#i might be forgetting some context. it is rather late you see. please ask me questions about this! ;P | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 3/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,292

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They still don’t talk about it. Thomas is beginning to suspect that this is causing a lot more problems than it solves. And by now, enough time has passed that it almost feels wrong to address it, any of it, feels like it’s too late, like he’s let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

So, he decides to try a different approach.

“Really?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow. He appears entirely unimpressed, like a teacher about to explain for the millionth time that he’s not going to give out the answers to the homework.

“Yes, really,” Thomas says. “I just can’t figure him out, and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Logan sighs, taking a seat across from him at the dining table. He clasps his hands in front of him, folding his fingers delicately. “Very well,” he says, “if only because the matter will continue to distract you if you don’t resolve it sufficiently. Where would you like to begin?”

He frowns, tilting his chair back until the two front legs lift off the floor. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I guess I just want to know why he acts the way he does. ‘Cause he seems to have no problem approaching me as a snake, but he’s so standoffish as a human, and I can never figure out exactly what he wants from me, like, ever. He’s just… confusing, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to talk to him.”

Logan inclines his head. “In that case, it may be prudent to reflect on how this conundrum began in the first place,” he prompts, and Thomas thinks on it, casts his mind back to that day, and the snake in the sunshine.

“That’s the first question,” he agrees. “He started coming up here for the sun, right? To be warm?”

“It is rather fascinating that he possesses so many traits of a creature that is truly cold-blooded,” Logan says. He leans forward. “It does seem to me that acquiring warmth was a primary motivation for him, at least at first. However, there is another question to be considered, which is that of why he felt the need to do so here, rather than anywhere in the mindscape. Though it is true that there are some circumstances in which it is difficult to find a simulation of sunlight, such as when the twins insist on rainy weather in the Imagination, it is by no means impossible, and he should have the capability to summon a heat source for himself. A heat lamp, for instance.”

“But instead he came up here,” he says slowly. “So, you’re saying he wanted to be here. That he wanted to be… what, near me?” The idea sounds preposterous, though all the evidence points to it being the correct conclusion. Because if Janus didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. It’s that simple.

Logan nods. “Remember, the first time he was faced with a lack of warmth both inside the mindscape and out, he immediately accepted your offer of sharing body heat. Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that he would have behaved in such a manner if no part of his motivation involved being close to you, in some way.”

“Okay, maybe,” he says. “But I still don’t get why he’s doing it like this. He always seems so embarrassed when I try to bring it up to him, like he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Virgil says. “You can’t possibly be that oblivious.”

Thomas starts violently, a yelp escaping his throat. He nearly overbalances, nearly sends himself and the chair crashing to the floor, but he corrects himself in time, clutching at his chest as he wrests his heart rate back down to something approaching normal levels.

“Holy smokes, Virge,” he says. “A little warning, next time?”

From where he is perched on the chair between them, Virgil shrugs, looking vaguely apologetic.

“Ah, Virgil,” Logan says. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he snipes, not sounding sorry at all. “I was just making sure that, you know, Janus wasn’t listening to you guys talking about him behind his back. You can’t honestly think he’d be happy that you guys are having this conversation, can you?” Thomas blinks, and Virgil must sense his sudden increase in nerves, because he shakes his head. “He’s busy with Remus right now, so you don’t actually have to worry about it yet, but a little bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.”

He sounds annoyed, but not overly angry, so Thomas relaxes a bit. “Right,” he says, “sorry, Virgil. Wasn’t really thinking about that.” He pauses. “I have been wondering where you’ve been, actually. I really thought that you’d, uh, have a little bit more to say about the whole letting-Janus-basically-cuddle-with-me thing. But you’ve been kinda quiet.”

Virgil exchanges a glance with Logan, shifting in place. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got Logan to thank for that,” he says. “Look, I don’t like the guy. I probably never will. But—” He pauses, hunching his shoulders— “even I’ve got to admit that he’s not gonna hurt you, so honestly? I have a lot more problems with the things he says and tries to get you to do than the, uh. Whatever the hell this has been.”

He gestures broadly, leaning back. Despite his typical disaffected tone, there is an odd gravity to his words, and Thomas knows that there’s something he isn’t saying. But he won’t press the issue; not yet anyway. Virgil is entitled to his secrets, and though he has long speculated on what, exactly, his relationship to Janus is and was, he is content to leave it alone for now.

“Fair enough,” he says. “So, what do you mean about me being oblivious?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t figure it out?” he asks. “Janus is the embodiment of lies and deceit, Thomas. He’s the opposite of trustworthiness.” Thomas opens his mouth to interject, since he really doesn’t see how this is relevant, or even remotely helpful, but Virgil holds up a finger, forestalling him. “And I’m not just saying that in the context of him not being trustworthy. Which he’s not, by the way, just to make that clear.”

“Yeah, no, I know exactly where you stand on this,” he mutters, and Virgil glares at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“All I’m trying to say is that he’s got some fucking trust issues, alright?” Virgil snaps. “He’s—” He breaks off, looking away and reddening slightly. He seems to struggle with himself briefly, his face twisting into some undefinable expression: a heavy reluctance, mixed with something Thomas can’t put a name to. “He’s kinda like me, in that way. You remember how long it took me to believe you when you started telling me you actually wanted me around?”

Guilt floods him, then, the memories of how he used to treat Virgil rushing back. These past couple of years have been good, so much so that he rarely thinks back on where they started. He knows Virgil so well that it is easy to forget that he feared him, once, pushed him down and tried to ignore him rather than working with him or trying to help him.

“Virgil—”

“No, listen.” His words come insistently, once again verging on frustration, so Thomas shuts up. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, or whatever. We’re past that now. We’re good. And god knows I fucking hate comparing myself to him in literally any way. But what I’m trying to say is that being a, a ‘dark side’ or whatever you want to call them, it’s not exactly conducive to believing that you care, or that you value our opinions. So even though you’ve accepted him, and you’ve started actively listening to his contributions, he probably doesn’t trust you not to, like, reverse positions, or some shit like that.”

“But Thomas hasn’t shown any desire to do so,” Logan interjects, “nor any indication that his stance will change in the future.”

“Maybe,” Virgil returns, “but Janus is self-preservation, not logic. He likes to pretend that he’s all cool and confident and rational, but he’s not. So he’s gonna act out of self-defense, no matter how stupid a move that might be.”

“You’re saying he thinks I might hurt him,” Thomas says. A strange sort of horrified numbness settles into his chest at the very thought, because that is the last thing he wants. It has always been the last thing he wants. And now, so much time has passed, and they haven’t addressed it at all, and maybe it really is too late. Because Virgil is right; it only makes sense that Deceit himself would be hesitant to trust, and he’s not sure there’s anything he can say or do to convince him otherwise. If he doesn’t trust him at this point, who’s to say he’ll ever trust him at all?

Would he be right not to?

“I’m saying he’s scared you might hurt him,” Virgil says bluntly, breaking him from his thoughts, and that’s even worse. He finds it hard to picture Janus being scared, but Janus lies as easily as breathing. What’s one more emotion to mask?

He doesn’t want Janus to be scared of him.

“I’m not sure how much sense that makes,” Logan says. “If Janus truly has the trust issues that you are describing, it wouldn’t be rational for him to seek out Thomas as much as he has. If he fears being hurt, it would be more logical to stay away, rather than actively searching for his company.”

Virgil shrugs. “Exactly.”

There is a beat of silence. Thomas looks at Logan, and has the gratification of seeing that he appears as confused as he feels.

“What?” Logan asks.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says. “Do I have to be the one to spell this out? Janus has trust issues, yeah? He’s afraid of getting close to you, because he thinks you might hurt him. But he’s been spending time with you anyway. What does that tell you?”

He furrows his brow, trying to sort through the words. There is something there, a conclusion that Virgil is attempting to lead him, to, but it’s not quite—

Oh. Wait.

“That doesn’t follow,” Logan says. “You’re saying he doesn’t trust Thomas, but now you’re trying to imply that he does?”

Virgil shrugs again, this time looking remarkably self-satisfied, a smug smile forming on his lips. “I guess,” he says. “I’m not saying it has to make sense. Trust… isn’t always based on logic. Sometimes it’s just emotions, or even just a gut feeling. Intuition. And like I said, Janus pretends not to be emotional, but at heart, he’s just as much of a dramatic theater kid as Roman is, if that tells you anything. He’ll be snarky and prickly and dickish all day long, but just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean that’s actually what he wants.”

His voice lowers at the end, becoming something soft and bitter and laced with experience. Thomas exchanges another glance with Logan, but once again decides not to force the issue. Virgil will come to him when he’s ready and not a moment before.

“So, you think that he does trust me, on some level at least,” he says, working through the information as he goes. “But not enough to approach me openly, or to talk to me about it, so maybe he doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of that trust? Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to trust him, or maybe he doesn’t trust me not to reject his trust.” He pauses, considering. “Hey, do you ever say a word so many times that it starts to lose its meaning? Trust. Trust, trust, trust. Truuuust. See? Gibberish.”

Logan exhales through his nose, sharp and pointed. “Focus, Thomas,” he says wearily, and Thomas forcibly brings his head back down to earth. “Have you come to a conclusion as to what your next step should be?”

Thomas looks at him, and then looks at Virgil. They are both staring at him, twin expressions of expectation on their faces, and his heart warms to see them like this, working together so easily, united in their purposes. Logic and Anxiety, Logan and Virgil. They really do make a good team. He doesn’t know where he would be without them.

He hopes they know that.

“Yeah, I have,” he says, and laughs. “I guess I should’ve been doing it all along. I need to talk to him.”

Logan’s face relaxes, and he nods. “There you have it,” he says. “Working through this with us is fine and good, but you’ll never be satisfied until you can figuratively ‘clear the air’ with him.” He unfolds his hands, bracing them against the table as he stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. “If that is all you need from me, I believe I will be on my way.”

Thomas smiles at him, helpless to do anything but. He really does love his sides. “Sure thing,” he says. “Thanks a lot, Logan.”

Logan sinks out, but Thomas is sure that a matching smile plays about his lips.

And then, he looks to Virgil, still crouched in the other chair, shoulders hunched and fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. His brow is creased, his eyes narrow, and it is a far cry from the open posture of moments before.

“You good?” he asks, and then stops to reconsider. Virgil is rarely completely good, so to speak, and clearly, there is something else on his mind now. “With all of this, I mean,” he clarifies. “I know you said that you were okay with me and Janus hanging out, but I know that there’s some kind of past between the two of you, and I. Uh. I mean, I want all of you to be happy, and that includes Janus, but that includes you, too. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

Virgil sighs, gaze shifting to meet his eyes. He looks tired all of a sudden, drained.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately,” he admits. “And yeah, when he first showed up and started doing this? I was freaked. I’m sure you felt that. Logan’s had to talk me down a lot. But I—” He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve realized something recently, and that’s the fact that a lot of my problems with Janus are pretty personal. Not all of them, but more than I really thought. And I don’t think it’s fair to you to push my view of him onto you when really, I’ve just been projecting my own feelings.” He shakes his head ruefully. “My private issues with him don’t necessarily mean that he never makes any good points. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against hearing him out in the first place, we could’ve avoided a lot of bullshit. So, I’m sorry. From here on out, I’m gonna try to be better about that.”

Thomas blinks. And then blinks again. He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest, a weight that he didn’t know was there at all. It’s only now that it’s gone that he realizes how worried he has been about this, about Virgil and Janus and the relationship between them and how he is supposed to keep them both close when their enmity is so strong.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow, uh. That’s really good to hear.” His words stumble over each other, but the smile that softens his tone is completely genuine, and he hopes that Virgil picks up on that. “I’m proud of you.”

Virgil jerks, his eyes widening. Under his foundation, his cheeks flush red.

“Cool,” he says. “Um, thanks. Whatever.” He salutes, his typical two-fingered motion landing just shy of casual, and he sinks out from the chair, leaving Thomas alone at the table.

Well. Not truly alone. When is he ever? Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t present, doesn’t make them any less a part of him.

He breathes deeply, in and out, and feels more balanced than he has for a long time.

-------------

He gives it a day. A day to rest, a day to formulate a vague plan of how to go about this, of what to say. Though he now feels secure in this course of action, knows that this conversation needs to happen, he is still nervous about stepping wrongly. Janus has a temper, and more defenses than a temple from Indiana Jones, and if this meeting goes off the rails, he isn’t sure how to salvage it. Better to try to keep it running smoothly from the very beginning.

He wishes he were more confident in his ability to do that.

He sits on the couch, tries to get comfortable. His heart is beating quickly, though just as much from anticipation as from nervousness. He inhales deeply, and then stretches out his arm, motioning like he’s trying to raise someone from the floor.

“Janus?” he calls out, and stops to wait.

And then, he is there, stepping smoothly from the shadows. It’s totally unlike the way the others rise up, but it’s not like how Virgil does it, either. Virgil appears suddenly, like every jump scare in every horror movie, quick and forceful and undeniable. But Janus strides forward as if he was there all along, and something in Thomas’ mind insists that he was, that he has been there this whole time, even though he knows very well that he only just arrived.

“Thomas,” he says, voice level and collected. Looking at him now, it is difficult to believe that he was ever injured, that Thomas has seen him bleeding and shaking, that Thomas has felt him cling to him in his sleep. He appears nothing less than completely put together, gloves immaculate and hat perfectly balanced, and just for a moment, Thomas loses his nerve.

But just for a moment, and that is all.

“Hey, Janus,” he says, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. “Do you have a minute?”

Janus lifts an eyebrow, and the set of his eyes shifts, just slightly. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching, but there is a flash of— something. Dread, perhaps, though he can’t be sure, and whatever it is, it doesn’t show in his voice.

“I suppose,” he says, somehow managing to sound both agreeable and incredibly put upon, “though I am terribly busy, you know. I can’t imagine why you would assume I’d make time for you.”

As always, it takes mental gymnastics to figure out which parts he means and which parts are sarcasm, but Thomas tries not to dwell too much. He pats the couch next to him, gesturing for him to sit, and after a second of hesitation, Janus does, sinking into the cushion with a fluid, graceful motion, crossing one leg over the other. For all the world, he appears completely at ease, but Thomas isn’t convinced that’s the case. There is something in the tilt of his head, the tension in his hands, that suggests discomfort.

He hopes it’s just discomfort, and not anything stronger than that.

“Okay, well,” he says. “I’m glad you could.” He pauses, trying to figure out if there’s a delicate way to start this, but he thinks that Janus would see right through any attempt at prevarication on his part. So he soldiers ahead, bracing for the fallout, whatever that may be. “I’d like to talk to you about the snake thing that you do.”

Janus blinks, lifting his chin slightly, and Thomas can’t help but wonder if it’s a conscious decision for him. Blinking, that is. Snakes don’t blink, after all, so does that translate to his human form? Does he choose to blink? Does he have to think about it?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Janus says coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at least partially a snake at all times, so you’ll have to tell me which ‘snake thing,’ exactly, you’re referring to.”

He sighs. “I think you know,” he says.

Janus’ shoulders stiffen minutely.

“And what about it?” he asks. “I don’t see what there is to discuss. Unless this is you asking me to stop.”

He sounds defensive, far more so than Thomas would like him to be so early in the conversation, and he struggles to quash his alarm.

“No, I’m not asking you to stop. Definitely not,” he says, meeting Janus’ eyes squarely. “I’m happy to spend time with you, Janus. And if you’re a snake during that time, then that’s completely fine. But I wanted to ask you why, I guess.” He hesitates, but Janus doesn’t interrupt, just continues to study him with wary eyes. “I mean, at first I just thought you wanted to get warm. And that’s cool! I’m one hundred percent cool with that! But the thing is, I’m pretty sure that there are other ways you could do that, if you wanted. So, I wanted to see if maybe there was another reason.”

Janus looks away at that, a scowl twisting his lips.

“Snakes are cold-blooded,” he says, his words short and clipped. “You’re a convenient source of heat, that’s all.”

Thomas has never been so sure that Janus is lying in all his life.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna push you to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, you can. I really would like to know.”

And because the moment seems to call for it, he gently reaches out and places a hand on Janus’ arm. Janus’ eyes widen, and he tenses, but makes no move to pull away, so after a moment of indecision, wondering whether this touch is welcome or not, Thomas maintains the contact. After a second or two, Janus turns his head toward him again, eyes flitting back and forth between his hand and his face, and his expression is unreadable, but Thomas is fairly sure that some kind of emotion is trying to make itself known, though he can’t be sure exactly what it is. Shock, perhaps, but he doesn’t think he’s said anything too shocking, unless—

He remembers that day, Janus bleeding all over his bathroom sink, and the fading look of surprise on his face when Thomas told him that he wanted to take care of him.

And he wonders: does Janus know he can have this?

He tries to recall whether he’s ever touched Janus as a human. Besides that one incident, he doesn’t think he has. Even when he placed Janus in his own bed and sat next to him, he put distance between them, a gap that was only closed after they both fell asleep. And in the morning, Janus was gone, almost as if he was fleeing the scene, and Thomas thought it was because he was embarrassed, but what if that’s not all of it?

What if he was worried about how Thomas would react?

“Janus,” he says slowly, “you do know that I enjoy your company, right? And not just when you’re a snake. When you’re human-shaped, too.”

“Of course,” Janus says, but it’s too quick, too shaky for Thomas to even begin to believe him.

“I’m serious,” he presses. “Is that… is that why you only hang out with me when you’re a snake? Did you think I wouldn’t want to otherwise?”

Janus glances away again. “Right, because you’d definitely understand,” he mutters, and Thomas makes a negating gesture with his free hand.

“Then why don’t you help me understand?” he asks, somewhat desperately.

Janus stays quiet for a long minute, and as the silence stretches on, he fears that he’s messed it all up, somehow, that he had this one chance to connect and he blew it, made a mistake somewhere without realizing, and Janus is about to reject him and sink out and he will never have this opportunity again—

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Janus says softly. He still doesn’t look at Thomas. Thomas wishes he would. “An honest conversation isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas says, and Janus closes his eyes and nods. Once, sharply, almost as if to himself.

“It is about warmth,” he says. “At least partially. I’m not sure why your mind decided to assign me scientifically accurate snake traits, but—” He shrugs— “I’m more than used to it by now. I… never really needed to come up here, though. I have heating lamps of my own, and if that doesn’t suit, I can usually find a warm spot in the Imagination. But, that first day, the mindscape seemed so crowded, like I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. So I decided to try up here instead. I told myself that if you spotted me, I would leave.”

“But I did,” Thomas says. “And you didn’t.”

“I was dozing. You caught me off guard, and then… to be frank, I didn’t expect you to let me stay,” Janus admits, and Thomas feels a pang at the confirmation. “But then you did, so I kept doing it, and it became a routine.”

He nods. So far, there have been no surprises. He remembers all of this very well.

“And then there was that rainy day,” he prompts, and Janus winces slightly, his eyes sliding back open, staring out into the living room, unfocused.

“Yes,” he agrees, whisper-soft, and Thomas leans forward to hear him better. “I knew it was foolish of me to stay here when I could have just as easily gone to my room and been warm there. But I didn’t want to.”

The last sentence carries the weight of a confession.

“Why is that?” Thomas asks. He barely dares to let the words pass his lips. Even now, when Janus is clearly trying to open up to him, he is still scared of saying the wrong thing, of making him clam up again, pull away.

Slowly, Janus uncrosses his legs, letting his hands splay out against his legs. For a moment, Thomas’ eyes are drawn to the contrast, yellow on black.

“I—” Janus pauses, his expression pinched. He shakes his head. “In the mindscape, it’s somewhat difficult to ensure a moment of solitude. It’s quieter up here, and even besides, that, I—” He cuts off suddenly, a violent shiver running through him, so intense that it almost seems like a convulsion.

“You?” Thomas prompts, trying not to show his worry. But Janus refuses to reply, and as Thomas watches, he slowly brings a hand up to cover his own mouth, an unsettling parody of when he silenced the others. And something in Thomas’ heart breaks to see it, to see this, to see the way Janus retreats into himself, the way he presses his hand against his face as if trying to hold back a flood.

The posture reminds him of something. The posture reminds him of Virgil. Of Virgil, anxious and afraid of judgment, and Thomas never really expected that from Janus, but he remembers thinking, way back when this first started, about how Janus and Virgil are alike. And that thought gives him the courage to continue, because he knows how to get through to Virgil when he gets lost in his head, so maybe he can get through to Janus, too.

So, he reaches out. One hand still rests on Janus’ arm, but he gently curls the other around Janus’ wrist, though he doesn’t try to pull his hand from his face, not yet.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can tell me. I swear, I won’t betray your trust.”

Janus’ face spasms, and gently, Thomas guides the hand down from his jaw. The skin around his mouth is red from the force of his grip, except for where the scales glitter, and his lips are drawn into a thin line, pressed together tightly. But there is something shining in his eyes, something that Thomas can’t interpret.

“Won’t you?” Janus asks. It should be a challenge, but it isn’t, not quite, because it’s not nearly aggressive enough for that, not nearly as aggressive as it was probably intended to be. There is a quietness in the words, a sort of defeat, and all of that is mixed with an odd desperation, like Janus thinks he knows the answer but wants to hear it anyway. “You hardly have a reason not to.”

Thomas is beginning to wonder if they’re having the same conversation here.

“No,” he says. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I do have a reason not to, and that reason is that I care about you.” He wants to scrub a hand down his face, to let a bit of his frustration show, but doing so would mean letting go of Janus, either his arm or his hand, and he doesn’t want to do that yet. “Look, I get that trust is hard. And I’m not asking for anything that I haven’t earned. But what I do earn, I’m not going to abuse. I promise you, Janus.”

Janus shudders at the sound of his name.

“Can you promise that?” he asks.

And Thomas does the only thing he can think to do and draws him in for a hug.

“Yes,” he says, resting his chin on Janus’ shoulder. “Yes, I can promise that.”

Janus freezes up, and for a moment, it’s like hugging a stone statue. But Thomas holds him close, so close that he can feel his heartbeat beneath all his layers, beating rabbit-quick and scared, and he doesn’t let him go, and incrementally slowly, Janus melts into his embrace, inch by inch, as if he’s fighting it, fighting himself.

“It’s about safety,” he murmurs, and Thomas has to strain to hear him. “I feel safe, with you.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, and hopes that Janus can hear just how much he means it. “I’m really glad. But why do you feel like you have to hide that?”

Janus doesn’t answer, but Thomas thinks he can guess. Virgil’s voice still rings in his ears, reminding him of how long he’s pushed the dark sides away, how long it has taken for him to acknowledge them as parts of him at all, much less important parts, parts deserving of respect in their own right. Really, what reason does Janus have to assume that Thomas won’t hurt him, won’t shove him to the side, back down into the dark? Why would Janus discard his caution in favor of trust when it has taken so very long for Thomas to be receptive to him at all?

Janus conceals so much, all the time. It’s a part of his function. So how can Thomas possibly expect him to admit what he truly wants?

“It frightens me,” Janus whispers suddenly, and Thomas pulls his attention back to the present, startled. “I never allow myself to trust anyone, and yet… I want to be close to you. I always have, I suppose, but I never really expected it to be possible. I never expected it to be a problem—”

“Whoa, hey, no,” Thomas says, because he definitely needs to cut off that line of thinking right away. He pulls away from Janus, gripping him by both shoulders and holding him in front of him so he can make eye contact. “Your feelings aren’t a problem. You feeling safe isn’t a problem, and it never will be, you hear? The only thing that’s a problem is that I refused to accept you for so long, and I’m trying to fix that now. But that’s not your fault.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, he keeps his voice low and measured and as sincere as possible, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Janus’ face.

“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he says. “I know there’s a lot about you that I don’t understand. But I’ve really liked spending time with you these past couple months, and not because you’re a snake. You don’t need to be a snake to spend time with me. You’re not intruding, or, or bothering me, or whatever. I want to hang out with you, no matter what shape you’re in.” He smiles wryly. “Really, the only reason I didn’t say so sooner was because I wasn’t sure what was going on, or if maybe you actually didn’t want to be around when you’re, uh, human-shaped. But, Janus, I really mean it. I want to get to know you better. I want to be friends. There’s no conditions attached to that.”

He pauses.

“You’re always welcome to be close to me,” he says. “Always.”

They stay like that for a moment, like time has frozen around them, frozen this moment, and Thomas scarcely dares to breathe. Either this was the right thing to say, or it wasn’t, and he can only hope for the former and not the latter, because there is no taking it back. He’s spoken his mind and his heart with nothing less than complete sincerity, and he couldn’t renege on that even if he wanted to.

Janus makes a choked noise, and then, with one gloved hand, reaches out and snags Thomas’ shirt. And he pulls himself close, tucking himself against Thomas’ chest, burying his face into his shirt. His hat slides off his head and to the ground, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care if he does. His shoulders are shaking, and Thomas can feel the growing dampness of the fabric against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, because he’s said all that needs to be said. He knows it, and he thinks that Janus knows it, and he hopes that now, Janus will finally, finally be able to believe him.

So Thomas just wraps his arms around him, and holds him steady.

------------

It’s movie night. It’s movie night, and Thomas is feeling good, great, even, because there are no pressing deadlines or moral crises, and he’s making popcorn in the kitchen, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders while he listens to everyone affably bicker in the living room. And that’s what it is: bickering, not arguing, not fighting. Roman is advocating for Disney, surprise surprise, while Virgil is groaning about how “that’s literally all you ever want to watch,” and Patton is chiming in with a desire to watch something with animals, anything really, he’s not all that picky, and Thomas can’t help but smile as he walks in to join them.

Logan is the only one not particularly invested in the conversation, and he greets him with a nod. Thomas hands him the popcorn bowl, trusting him not to make a mess of it, and settles against his side. The others pile in in short order, Patton on the floor and leaning against his legs, Virgil tucked into his other side, and Roman dramatically splaying himself out along the rest of the couch and putting his head in Virgil’s lap.

Remus is here too, behind the couch. Thomas has told him that he’s free to join in if he puts some clothes on, and though Remus swiftly turned him down, there was an odd gleam in his eye that told Thomas to expect a change in the future.

“Was Janus going to join us?” Logan asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the others’ discussion, which has continued uninterrupted, entirely too intense for something as simple as picking a movie to watch.

Thomas grins at him, and lifts the blanket so he can see Janus, draped across his shoulders. Janus lifts his head and flickers his tongue out at Logan, but makes no move to leave or hide. Virgil glances over briefly and frowns, but doesn’t comment, giving Thomas a short nod.

“The Lion King it is!” Roman bursts out, and Thomas settles in.

They watch The Lion King, and when that’s done, Virgil insists on Hocus Pocus, and it’s getting late after that, but Patton quietly asks for Princess and the Frog, and even though Thomas can tell that everyone is close to nodding off, he puts the disk in and lets it play. His own eyelids are drooping before Tiana even meets Naveen, and he is close to falling asleep before Janus begins to shift in place, rousing him a bit.

And suddenly, Janus is in his lap, human-shaped, snuggling up against his chest with a sigh of contentment. Thomas adjusts automatically, shuffling so that everyone can stay comfortable. Virgil mutters something along the lines of, “Get your damn snaky elbow out of my face,” but his sleepiness undercuts any venom the words might have.

“You good, buddy?” Thomas murmurs, too tired to say much of anything else.

Janus hums, taking off his hat and casting it to the ground before tucking his head under Thomas’ chin.

“Shhhhut up and go to ssssleep,” he slurs, and Thomas smiles.

Besides the movie still playing on-screen, the living room is dark. But before Thomas closes his eyes, he thinks he sees Remus staring at him, thinks he inclines his head in… what, approval? And then he is gone, and Thomas doesn’t think too much more about it.

Because he has Janus, and he has all the rest of his sides here, gathered around him, at peace, and all is well with the world.

-------------

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfordshysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety @maybedefinitely404 @arya-skywalker @thefivecalls @nerdy-emo-royal-dad

Fic Taglist: @5am-the-foxing-hour @idkanameatall @i-fear-no-god @dwbh888 @why-do-you-care @astraheart04 @lonceallivander @im-a-creepy-cookie @imma-potatoo @bunny222 @a-small-batch-of-dragons

#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic thomceit #character!thomas #janus sanders #ts janus #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #my fic #long post #that's a wrap folks!

353 notes · View notes

panharmonium · 4 years

Text

the edge of seventeen [fic]

summary: Daegal forgets his own birthday. Merlin has a conniption. Daegal has a crisis.

context for newcomers: This is the next installment in an ongoing AU that @once-and-future-gay and I have been playing around with, wherein both Will and Daegal survived into Season 5. The background for that AU can be found here, and the associated fics (plus one art post) are at the following links: be good / persistence / tournaments / daegal post-carpentry (art).

a/n: @once-and-future-gay, this was actually written for your birthday XD I started it that Tuesday intending for it to be a very short snippet that I could post the same day, but I quickly realized that it was turning into a bigger piece, and now, a week and a half later, it’s a 10k story. I apologize for how belated it is, but I hope you'll accept it as a birthday gift anyhow - I figured that if it were up to me, I’d rather have ‘more fic’ than ‘on-time fic,’ so - happy (belated) birthday to you, and here’s some more of this AU for you, featuring Daegal and a wide supporting cast! ✨

“Are you trying to slice that thing or just beat it to death?”

Will stared incredulously down the table at Daegal, who continued to hack at the seedpod held between his fingers even though his aggravated chopping did little more than squash the unyielding capsule down into the wood of the table. “It’s my knife,” Daegal muttered, stabbing at his botanical nemesis. “It’s dull.”

“So sharpen it.”

“I did,” Daegal replied. “It’s old. It doesn’t hold an edge.”

Will beckoned for the knife. Daegal scooted it down the table to him like an innkeeper sliding drinks down the length of the bar, even in defiance of Merlin’s exasperated, “Don’t - !” But Will caught the knife easily, handle-first, and gave it a disapproving once-over.

“Use mine,” he said, and slid one of his own blades down the table.

“Don’t - !” Merlin bit out again, then sighed and returned to the text he was copying after Daegal intercepted the blade without injury.

“Careful,” Will warned Daegal. “It’s - ”

Pop. Daegal startled out of his seat at the first enthusiastic slice of the knife, as the capsule burst and sent hundreds of tiny black seeds scattering in every direction, the dried granules rolling off the edge of the table and pouring onto the floor with a rain-like hiss.

Merlin sighed and rubbed his forehead. Will picked up his own half-finished carving again and gestured at Merlin’s face. “You’ve got a bit of ink on you, you know.”

Merlin shot him a flat look. “Have I?”

“Yeah. Just over your nose there.”

“Maybe it’s because you keep doing things that make me want to pull my hair out.”

Will gave Daegal a knowing grin across the table. Daegal, doing his best to contain the spilled seeds, couldn’t help feeling pleased, even if the smile he offered to Will in return was slightly sheepish.

“Do I?” Will asked Merlin, utterly unconcerned. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Stop giving him knives!” Merlin burst out, gesturing broadly at Daegal’s end of the table.

“He’s fine!” Will said. “He’s a big lad.”

“And he’s making a big mess.”

“I’ll clean it up,” Daegal assured Merlin, scooping the runaway seeds into uncooperative piles. “I didn’t think it would cut so well, is all.”

“You need better tools,” Will declared. “Merlin, the man works for you. Why haven’t you got him outfitted properly?”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a rap at the door. “It’s open,” he called, frowning. It was a bit late for visitors.

The door swung open, revealing Gwaine, who took only a single step into the physician’s chambers before pausing at the loud crunching sound under his boot. “Hallo,” he said curiously, lifting up his foot. “What’s all this, then?”

“Seeds,” Daegal supplied helpfully, at the same time as Merlin grumbled, “Never mind. Don’t come in; you’ll track it all over.”

Gwaine obliged, bowing at the waist in deference to Merlin’s directive. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “I only came by to see if you lot fancied an excursion.”

“What sort?”

“The lads and I are off to see the sunrise. Thought you might like to join us.”

It was only after a moment’s confusion that Daegal realized Gwaine was talking about the tavern, in some sort of post-curfew, plausible deniability-laden way. Daegal wiped seeds from his palms and looked hopefully between Will and Merlin, not daring to believe that they would say yes. It wasn’t often Gwaine heard the word “no” from someone he’d propositioned, Daegal was willing to bet, but Daegal knew trying to drag Will and Merlin out of their nest two whole bells after curfew, especially when the weather had frosted all the windows, was an extremely optimistic maneuver, even for Gwaine.

Will, predictably, snorted, not even bothering to pretend he was interested. Merlin did a better job of feigning regret, holding up the heavy text he was copying as if it explained everything. “Can’t,” he said simply. “Sorry. Too much work. Too late. Too tired. Too cold.”

“Any other excuses?” Gwaine asked, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“Pick whichever one you like best,” Merlin said, returning to scratch away at his manuscript. “I’m comfy in here.”

Gwaine gestured amicably at Daegal. “How about you, lad?”

Daegal’s eyes widened. Merlin always made tavern nights with Gwaine sound legendary, and the fact that Will groaned every time they came up in conversation made them even more intriguing, but Will, in a surprisingly swift intervention, interrupted before Daegal could even open his mouth.

“Not a chance,” he said, when Daegal tentatively started to rise from his chair. “Sit down.”

Gwaine did not seem offended, but simply leaned against the doorframe and grinned in that careless way of his. “Can’t the lad have a bit of fun?”

“Not with that lot. Not at this hour.”

“I’ll look after him.”

“You? By the time you’re done drinking you won’t know him from Bruta.”

Gwaine shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He pointed at Daegal. “Invitation stands, lad. Another time, maybe.”

Daegal nodded wistfully, and Gwaine bade them farewell, departing. Will, shaking his head, returned to his whittling, muttering, “Not ruddy likely.” He brushed wood shavings off his knees, adding to the mess on the floor. “Lunatic.”

“He’s a good lunatic,” Merlin said, absorbed in his copying.

“If you say so.”

“I could still go, maybe,” Daegal said. “I could look after myself.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “At the Rising Sun? After curfew? You’d wake up with your head in a snowbank.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would,” Will said, not budging. “Don’t go courting trouble. You’re too young for that crowd.”

Daegal scrunched up his nose. He knew that in a contest of stubbornness, Will would win by a mile, but still - “I’m not too young. I’m seventeen.”

Merlin’s head snapped up from his book, his copying abruptly forgotten. “You’re sixteen.”

“No,” Daegal said, bewildered by Merlin’s sudden bizarre intensity. “Seventeen.”

“Since when?”

“I had my birthday last month.”

“You what?”

Daegal, confused, looked between Merlin and Will, the latter of whom sighed. “Oh, lor.”

“What?” Daegal asked. “Have I - is that bad?”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Merlin demanded, ignoring Daegal’s question.

“I don’t know,” Daegal replied, taken aback. He hadn’t even thought of it at the time. What was there to think about? It was just another day. Sometimes he didn’t even remember his birthday had happened until it was already over. Once he hadn’t remembered until the last week in January, when he’d taken a courier job and been forced to lie about his age.

Merlin looked incensed. Will, by contrast, looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Right, then,” he said, getting up and tucking his carving into his pocket. “I’m off. You two have fun.”

Daegal had an absurd urge to beg Will to sit back down, because Merlin was starting to get a frankly loony look on his face and Daegal did not understand what was the matter. But Will just patted Daegal on the top of the head on his way out - tap tap - and let the door swing closed behind him.

Merlin, his hands on his hips, assessed Daegal with narrowed eyes.

“I’m sorry?” Daegal ventured, unsure what he was apologizing for.

Merlin pressed his lips together. “You and him,” he said, pointing to the door where Will had just exited, “you’re two of a kind, you know that?”

Daegal did not know. He had no idea what Merlin was talking about, in fact, and he was afraid to ask. He did not exactly want to apologize again, though, because that felt sort of like apologizing for being like Will (although why Merlin seemed to think this was the case was a mystery).

“Right,” Merlin said after a moment. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Daegal hesitated. “Take care of what?”

Merlin sighed and shook his head, but did not answer. Daegal decided that perhaps it would be best if he did not needle Merlin with further questions right now. His mentor was acting very strange, and Daegal could not possibly imagine what had gotten him so worked up.

He would just have to ask Will about it later.

As it turned out, Daegal did not have a chance to ask Will about it later.

The next day, Will did not come by. The day after that, Merlin sent Daegal out to collect more dried seedpods to replace the ones Daegal had mangled, which took all afternoon and was exhausting enough for Daegal to go straight to his little chamber in the servants’ wing and flop into bed after supper.

The morning after that, he woke to find a smiling Elyan hovering barely two inches above his face.

Daegal stifled a gasp and only just barely stopped himself from whacking Elyan across the nose. He scrambled upright in the bed, his back pressed against the wall. “El - Sir Elyan! What - ”

“Good morning,” Elyan said, as if he could not possibly have been happier to have gotten almost-smacked in the face. “Merlin sent me down. Said it’s your birthday.”

Daegal goggled at him. “My what?”

“Your birthday,” Elyan repeated. “Isn’t it?”

Daegal shook his head, certain that he was still asleep. “No.”

“Merlin said you might say that.” Elyan whipped the covers off Daegal’s legs. “Up you get. It’s time for breakfast.”

Daegal shivered violently, his sleep clothes providing little protection against the cold. “I don’t normally - I’m supposed to go and help Gaius - ”

“Not today. You’ve been given the day off.”

Daegal stared. “What for?”

Elyan chuckled. “Still asleep in there, I see,” he remarked, tossing Daegal a shirt. “It’s your birthday. Haven’t I just said that?”

“It’s not, though,” Daegal said, feeling as if he were speaking a different language. “My birthday’s in November.”

“Not this year, it isn’t.” Elyan grinned. “Get dressed. We’ve got all sorts of things do today.”

When Elyan had said ‘all sorts of things,’ Daegal had not expected one of those things to be a full breakfast served in the King and Queen’s personal chambers, catered by the King and Queen’s personal serving staff, and attended by the King and Queen themselves.

“I didn’t know,” Daegal whispered frantically to Merlin, as Elyan ushered him inside the room. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I would have worn something else!”

“You don’t have anything else,” Merlin shot back under his breath. “Relax. Arthur put his undershirt on back to front this morning; he’s hardly Sir Stylish.”

Daegal gave Merlin a panicked, pleading stare, but Merlin just plunked Daegal down in a seat and left to pour the drinks.

“We’ve been meaning to do this for ages,” the Queen told him, sitting down next to Elyan. “Merlin keeps you very busy, doesn’t he?”

Daegal’s mouth was too dry to formulate any sort of reply. Only a few short months ago this very same woman had been standing at Morgana’s elbow, plotting Arthur’s assassination, and at the time, Daegal had not even realized there was anything wrong with her. There was, after all, nothing hard to believe about a servant-turned-queen who’d gotten a taste for power and decided to keep climbing the ladder, and while Merlin had always been very adamant that Daegal would never have believed this of Gwen if he had ever met her previously, it was hard for Daegal to look at her and not remember how she had willingly embraced the woman who��later tried to murder Merlin and threatened to do the same to Daegal, if he didn’t keep his mouth shut.

Merlin, busy setting out the ewery on a sidetable, heard Gwen’s comment and spared Daegal the necessity of replying. “Arthur keeps me very busy,” he said, directing a pointed look at the king. “If you’d like me to arrange your subjects’ social schedules on top of my other duties, Sire, perhaps you ought to hire someone else to look after your washing.”

Arthur waved a hand. “Guinevere likes that funny thing you do with my socks.”

“Guinevere,” corrected the Queen , “thinks her husband is perfectly capable of rolling his own socks, thank you.” She smiled encouragingly at Daegal. “But enough about the laundry. We’d been meaning to have you round for a meal, to say thank you, and Merlin mentioned that it was your birthday, so we thought now would be the perfect time.”

Daegal barely even heard the bit about his birthday, instead fixated on what had come just before it. Thank him? What for? He had nearly gotten the king killed.

“Merlin tells us you’ve been helping Gaius?” Arthur prompted.

Daegal nodded.

“He’s a fine physician. If you’re pursuing a path in the healing arts, you couldn’t ask for a better teacher.”

“Is that something you’re interested in?” Guinevere asked, warm interest written across her face.

Daegal’s eyes darted helplessly to Merlin, who nodded encouragingly. Daegal cleared his throat. “Er - I think so. Maybe. Merlin says I’m picking it up quickly.”

“Well, you’ve already saved one life,” Arthur said with a grin, gesturing at himself, “so if that’s any indication of your capabilities, I expect you’ll do well.” He offered Daegal a platter of pastries. “Tell us about your studies.”

The meal continued on in much the same fashion, with Gwen and Arthur asking Daegal questions and Elyan occasionally putting in a comment or two of his own. Daegal did his best to answer honestly, even as he was plied with heaps of food, most of which was comprised of dishes he had never had the chance to try before and all of which flavors he was certain he would never be able to remember later, given how worked up he was. Arthur was gracious and charming throughout, very unlike the man who often featured in Merlin’s grumbling suppertime complaints. Elyan talked to Merlin as much as he did to either of the royal guests, which was probably a breach of some kind of protocol, though nobody seemed to mind. And the Queen - the Queen looked exactly the same as she had when Daegal had first met her, minus the cloak and surreptitious glances, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought nothing had changed.

Except -

There came one moment, towards the end of the meal, when Merlin put a goblet down in front of Gwen with a playful and very exaggerated “Your Majesty,” and Gwen jabbed his knee with a fork under the table where Arthur couldn’t see, all the while both of them keeping their eyes locked on each other as if daring the other one to laugh first, and it was then that Daegal knew with absolute certainty that this was not the same woman he had met that night in the woods.

“I hope you’ll accept this token of the Crown’s appreciation,” Arthur said to Daegal later, when they had finally finished their meal and risen from their chairs. “You’ve done this kingdom a tremendous service, and I’m indebted to you.” He passed Daegal a very official-looking bit of folded parchment stamped with the royal seal, which Daegal knew it would not be appropriate to open now. He took it and bowed the way Merlin had shown him.

“And there’s something from me, too,” said Guinevere. “Only it would have been a bit difficult to get it up the steps - Elyan will take you to see it instead. I think you’ll find it useful, given that you’re apprenticing to our physicians.”

Daegal could not possibly imagine what on earth could have been so unwieldy that she could not get it up the stairs, but he bowed to her as well. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” she said, in a more solemn voice. “For helping, when I couldn’t help myself.”

Daegal straightened, hesitant. Her eyes - it seemed ludicrous to Daegal, now, that he had not recognized the enchanted version of her for what it was. That hollow shell had had no soul.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he blurted out. “I wish I could’ve done more.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Arthur said, wrapping a steady arm around his wife’s shoulders. “For both of us. We owe you a great deal.”

Daegal bowed to both of them again, and Elyan escorted him to the door. “Oh, and Daegal?” Gwen added.

Daegal stumbled over his own feet trying to turn around. “Your Majesty?”

She smiled at him. “Happy birthday.”

“What did Arthur give you, then?” Elyan asked, once they were out in the street.

Daegal fingered the mystery envelope. He did not know, and honestly, his head was spinning too much for him to even think about puzzling out a jumble of words right now, especially when he was only just learning his letters to begin with.

“Can I have a look?” Elyan asked, and Daegal willingly handed him the parchment. Elyan slipped a finger under the seal and unfolded the document, parsing it with a speed Daegal had pretty much despaired of ever achieving for himself.

“Mm,” Elyan said. “Thought so. Typical kingly stuff.”

“What is it?”

“Land grant,” Elyan said, handing back the parchment, and then, as if this were nothing to worry about, he turned and ambled into the stables.

Daegal stared after him. “What?”

“Land grant,” Elyan repeated. “You know, like a knight’s fee. For services rendered to the Crown.” He wandered deeper down the central aisle of the stable, stalled horses on either side of him lifting their heads. “Come on. It’s through here.”

Stunned, Daegal followed him, his fingers clutching at the incomprehensible slip of parchment. “I can’t own land,” he protested. “I don’t own a second pair of shoes.”

“You do now. Or you can afford to, at least.” Elyan glanced back at Daegal. “Don’t worry, it’s a small plot. Just a little square out in the Sprawl.”

Outside the city walls, then. “I don’t - what am I supposed to do with it?”

“You could live there.”

“But - ” Daegal stared at Elyan’s back uncomprehendingly. “I live in the Citadel.”

“Rent it?”

Daegal’s head was going to explode. “Will says landlords are leeches,” he said faintly.

Elyan laughed. “Herb garden?” he suggested. “Merlin’s always sending you off to gods know where, searching for things you could grow yourself.”

Daegal hardly knew what to say to that, but Elyan stopped walking before Daegal could think of anything coherent. “Here we are,” Elyan announced, clapping a hand down on top of a stall door to his left.

A wave of misgiving flooded Daegal, temporarily wiping away the lingering shock of the land grant. “Are we riding somewhere?”

He had not considered this, and he did not want to admit that the only way he was going to be able to ride anywhere at all was on the back of someone else’s saddle. He had never had access to a horse himself, and had only had the opportunity to ride twice in the past - the first occasion had been extremely brief, and the second had ended in him being thrown, so he was not quite sure that it counted.

“Not today,” Elyan said. “Unless you count the training ring.”

“Sorry?”

“Merlin says you don’t know how to ride.”

“Yeah,” Daegal said. He could feel himself turning red. “I mean - no, I don’t know how. Not well. I don’t need to. I don’t have a horse.”

“Didn’t have a horse,” Elyan said, as if making a correction.

“What?”

Elyan gestured at the stall they were standing next to. “Couldn’t get her up the stairs.”

Daegal’s mouth popped open. The creature Elyan was pointing to was a dark bay with an irregular, splotchy white blaze down her muzzle, her smooth coat appearing nearly black in the dim light of the stables. She was stout and smoothly muscled, watching them with a calm, composed energy, and even as Daegal stared, she stretched her neck over the stall door and sniffed at Elyan’s hands, perhaps searching for any remnants of his recent breakfast.

“My sister,” Elyan said proudly, scratching the horse’s cheek, “is aces at presents.”

“She’s not for me,” Daegal croaked disbelievingly.

“Of course she is,” Elyan assured him. “She’s the same stock as Merlin’s. Steady temperament, friendly, not likely to spook. Not like Arthur’s beasts.”

A horse, Daegal thought numbly. A horse.

“I can’t take this,” he mumbled. “It’s too much.”

“Of course it’s not too much. You saved the king’s life.”

I almost killed him! Daegal wanted to shout, but Elyan would not understand.

“And you’ll need transportation, anyhow,” Elyan continued. “You can’t be jogging along behind Merlin on foot. Apprentices in the royal household have mounts, or they can’t do their work.”

Daegal bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t even know how to ride her.”

The horse cocked her ears in Daegal’s direction and swung her blocky head around to inspect him, her dark brown eyes sedate and trusting. “What do you think we’re here to practice?” Elyan asked cheerfully, retrieving a halter and lead rope from a hook on the wall. “Go on, say hello to her.”

Daegal’s hand came up of its own accord, hovering in the air below his new mount’s nose. She lipped at his fingers curiously. “Hello,” Daegal breathed.

He didn’t deserve her. He knew he didn’t.

But he was falling in love with her anyway.

It was a very windswept and breathless Daegal who climbed off his horse later that day and ran to greet Merlin at the fence.

Evening was coming on, and the temperature had sunk as quickly as the sun, but Daegal did not even notice the stiffness in his fingers or the tightness in his cheeks. He was too carried away with the elation of riding, and the dizzying knowledge that he now had the means to go anywhere he wanted, anytime, without begging for rides in the back of strangers’ wagons. Months ago he would have killed for this kind of ability to roam.

It was strange, now that he finally had the freedom to run away whenever he pleased, that he no longer felt he had anything to run away from.

“Having fun?” Merlin asked, elbows resting on the fence.

Daegal did not think fun was the right word. There was just no good way to explain that he felt like a menagerie bear whose shackles had slipped, or a noblewoman’s bird escaping out a cracked window. “It’s brilliant,” he said, settling for a completely inadequate adjective. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“And he’s good at it!” Elyan put in, walking Daegal’s horse over to the gate. “We’ve only been out here one day and he’s got her cantering already - I think this beast is talking to him.”

If Daegal’s cheeks had not been whipped rosy by the wind already, they were certainly turning pink now. “No,” he said to Merlin, “not - talking to me. Obviously not. Just - I sort of feel like I understand her, is all.”

Merlin did not seem to think this was strange at all, and produced a chunk of some sort of winter root vegetable from his coat, offering it to the horse. She snapped it up eagerly. “Animals talk,” Merlin said, shrugging. “It’s people as don’t know how to listen that get kicked in the nethers.”

He untied the gate for Elyan, who led the horse through it and started up the path back to the stables proper. “How was your day?” Merlin asked Daegal, as the three of them walked, Elyan leading the horse on one side, and Merlin and Daegal on the other.

Daegal had to think before answering. It had been, by a wide margin, the strangest day he had ever experienced in Camelot, starting with Elyan’s surprise appearance that morning and punctuated by a number of other unexpected visitors. Leon had arrived in the stables not long after Elyan and Daegal, bringing with him a collection of exquisitely embroidered tack (“Part of Her Majesty’s gift,” he’d explained), and then he’d spent the next hour walking Daegal through the various bits and pieces, guiding him through the process of putting them on his mount and taking them off again. Percival had dropped by with his own mount and accompanied Daegal on a slow ride outside the ring, along the edge of the woods - Elyan had ridden in the saddle behind Daegal, just to be safe, but he had not had to take the reins from Daegal once, and they had gone on a nice plodding walk around the frostbitten perimeter of what would be fairgrounds, come summer. Even Mordred had made a brief appearance, in his oddly intense way - apparently out for a ride of his own, watching Elyan and Daegal lungeing Daegal’s mount for a few minutes, before nodding to the both of them and continuing on his way, his own horse cresting the hill so smoothly that it appeared as if it were not touching the ground.

“It was strange,” Daegal decided.

Merlin walked along beside him, his boots crunching on the frostbitten grass. “Why?”

“I don’t know. All these people - ” Daegal paused, brushing a hand against his horse’s flank. “I don’t see why they’re taking an interest.”

“It’s your birthday,” Merlin replied. “People are supposed to make a fuss.”

Daegal was not sure about that. It had not ever been his experience in the past, at least. “It’s not really my birthday, though.”

“Only because I didn’t know about it.”

They continued walking, Daegal worrying at his lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said abruptly, after a minute.

“You’re not enjoying yourself?”

Daegal shook his head quickly. “I am.” Too much, he thought. His exhilaration at being taught how to ride had driven it from his mind for a while, but now -

Elyan waved to someone up ahead, interrupting Daegal’s thoughts. There in the stableyard was Gwaine, lounging against the edge of the open doors, dressed not in his crimson surcoat but in plain clothes, and tossing a small pouch from hand to hand.

“You’re early,” Merlin called to him. “We’ve still got to groom and water this creature.”

“I thought I was supposed to be in charge of the watering,” Gwaine replied, which seemed like a very odd thing to say. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

“I’m talking about the horse.”

Gwaine pushed himself off the wall, joining the little group as they entered the yard. “Our guest of honor,” he said, indicating Daegal. “This fellow’s been doing our job for us, Elyan. Saving the king is knight’s work, isn’t it?”

Elyan led the horse past Gwaine with a smirk. “How would you know? You’ve never done a bit of it.”

Gwaine shook his head, glancing at Daegal in a comradely way. “Why does everybody think I only took this job for the food?”

Daegal, who had only rarely interacted with Gwaine before, did not know what to answer, but Merlin saved him the trouble. “Because we know you,” he said, and then smiled when Gwaine gave him a crooked grin.

That was utter nonsense. Even Daegal knew that Gwaine had nearly died during Morgana’s occupation, specifically while fighting to keep a number of his fellow prisoners from starving - but Merlin and Gwaine were a bit like Merlin and Will in that way, at least to Daegal’s limited experience, wherein Gwaine did not always want people to see him for what he truly was, and Merlin always chose to see him anyway, if only from behind a mutually agreed-upon smokescreen of affectionate teasing.

“Well, let’s hurry it up,” Gwaine said, tossing his little bag in the air. “I’d like to get on with my bit.”

His bit?

Gwaine paused in front of the empty stall while Elyan gathered what they would need for a post-ride grooming. “I hear it’s your birthday,” Gwaine said to Daegal, and then before Daegal could explain that it wasn’t, exactly, Gwaine handed Daegal the little leather bag. “There’s for you, then.”

Daegal, surprised, loosened the cinched string at the top of the pouch and tipped the contents into his other hand. Out tumbled four dice, the smoothly-carved cubes clacking against one another as they fell into Daegal’s palm.

Daegal looked up at Gwaine, confused.

“I thought you could use them,” Gwaine said.

“For what?”

Gwaine grinned and exchanged a knowing look with Merlin. “My bit.”

Daegal stared at at the dice in his hand, then snapped his gaze up to Merlin, suddenly seized by a burst of excitement. “Are we - ”

Merlin held up a finger. “On three conditions,” he declared, obviously trying not to smile.

Daegal closed his fingers tightly around the dice, trying not to appear too eager.

“One: you’re going to untack and groom your mount. The stablehands will do that for you, when you ride out with our party, but she’s your responsibility. You have to know how to take care of her.”

Daegal had no objections to that. He already loved this horse better than anything he’d ever owned.

“Two: weak drinks only.”

We’ll see, Gwaine mouthed behind Merlin.

“Three - ” Merlin held up a third finger. “You leave when I leave. Will’s right about the after-curfew crowd. That’s a sort of trouble you don’t need.” He looked expectantly at Daegal. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Daegal nodded fervently. “Is it - who’s coming?”

“Everybody!” Elyan supplied happily, uncinching the horse’s girth. “You saved our king. We owe you a night out.”

Merlin, who had perhaps understood Daegal’s question better, said, “Everybody who likes drinks and dicing and general uproar.”

This statement prompted appreciative, anticipatory grins from Gwaine and Elyan, and Daegal refrained from asking any follow-up questions, having understood the answer perfectly well. He had been working with Merlin long enough to know that if there were one thing Will avoided more assiduously than King Arthur, it was large groups of loud people losing their heads over absolutely nothing.

“Let’s get started, then,” Gwaine said. “D’you think you can untack this beast and learn the rules to Hazard at the same time?”

Daegal stuffed the dice into his pocket and grasped the bridle’s noseband buckle. “I can try.”

Gwaine grinned wolfishly. “That’s just what I like to hear.”

They ended up staying a bit later than they’d intended.

By the time Merlin finally had the sense to bring the evening to a close, Daegal had turned the single half-penny he had started with into several silver pieces (“Alchemy!” Gwaine had proclaimed triumphantly, knocking his cup into Daegal’s so that some of the drink had sloshed over), and Daegal had become very popular with some of the tavern regulars, who were beyond tickled to see a seventeen year-old boy flatten strangers’ smug expectations of victory. Daegal had not won every time, of course, but he had gotten extremely lucky at several critical moments and had at the very end miraculously thrown his chance number twice, after the odds had already been declared heavily against him (and thus after the other players had upped their contribution to Daegal’s stake with the expectation that he would lose).

Merlin had pulled Daegal from the game after that, sitting him back down at the knights’ table, which was piled high with food and drink. “First lesson,” he’d said, offering Daegal a very watered-down ale, “and one you won’t learn from Gwaine - quit while you’re ahead.”

They had stayed for a long time after that, socializing and eating their fill, until Merlin had finally seemed to take notice of the time (or perhaps of the slightly seedy-looking characters who had started to wander in through the back entrance). Merlin, at that point, had prompted Daegal to gather his winnings, say his goodbyes, and make his exit, pursued by a chorus of enthusiastic farewells from the knights, none of whom showed any sign of abandoning their seats anytime soon.

Stepping out into the night air was like diving into a frozen moat. Daegal drew his cloak tighter around his torso as he and Merlin wound their way through the town. The Rising Sun’s interior had been as stiflingly hot as its namesake, overflowing with a press of bodies and thrumming with a constant cacophony of conversation, and even from the outside its closed shutters leaked driblets of light and noise, as if the building were bursting at the seams. The town, by contrast, was stone-silent and frigid, everybody shut up in their homes waiting for the weak light of morning.

“You did well,” Merlin said, as they approached the citadel. “You’re sure you’ve never played Hazard before?”

Daegal shook his head. His mother would never have let him, before, and after -

He pushed that thought away, watching his breath mist in front of his face. He’d never had enough money to gamble with after that, that was all.

“You weren’t helping me, were you?” Daegal asked Merlin.

“No, you got lucky.” Merlin chuckled. “The look on that fellow’s face...”

Daegal smiled faintly, remembering. Daegal had taken rather a lot of money from a beefy, belligerent fellow who had been bothering everybody all night, which had resulted in a vastly improved tavern experience for all when the man had stormed out in a rage, and which had also earned a round of free drinks for Daegal’s table. “He wasn’t too pleased, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t. Not quite the sort of evening he was expecting to have, I don’t think.”

They walked on, approaching the retracted drawbridge, and detoured to the parallel pedestrian crossing instead, passing through the smaller door to the bridge’s left and entering the courtyard, Merlin offering a hello to the familiar guards as they went.

“How does it feel to be older?” Merlin asked, as they crossed the darkened square.

Daegal shrugged. “I don’t know. The same, I suppose.”

But that wasn’t exactly true, Daegal thought, as they entered the base of the North Tower. Last year, things had been very different. A few months ago, he could never have dreamed of the sort of day he’d been having today. And now -

He hesitated at the bottom of the stair leading to the physician’s chambers. Merlin, oblivious to the fact that Daegal was not right behind him, kept climbing.

“Why are you doing all this?” Daegal asked. His voice sounded strange in his own ears, or maybe that was just a function of the echo in the hollow space, his words bouncing off the stone shell on either side of him.

Merlin turned around, surprised to see Daegal still standing at the bottom of the stairs. “All what?”

Daegal made an uncertain gesture. “This. All these things today...I don’t understand.”

“It’s your birthday,” Merlin said, as if that made any sense at all.

“It’s not, though,” Daegal said. “Even if it were, I don’t see - I mean, it doesn’t matter.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Who cares?”

Merlin stared levelly at Daegal. “I do,” he said.

A long silence ensued. Daegal could not possibly have formulated a reply to this even if he’d known what to say, but Merlin did not ask him to respond, instead descending a few steps and putting a hand on Daegal’s elbow, nudging him up the staircase. “Come on,” he said quietly. “It’s late.”

Daegal followed him without a word, stunned and silent, seven stories straight up.

“Isn’t it a bit past your bedtime, old man?” Merlin said, immediately upon opening the doors to the physician’s chambers.

Daegal, trailing behind, thought this was a very unusual way for Merlin to address Gaius, but as he peered around Merlin’s shoulder, he realized it was not Gaius to whom Merlin was speaking, but Will, who was sitting by the little hearthfire at the left of the room with his feet propped up on a stool.

“No,” Will replied, though he did look like he was ready to doze off. “It might be a bit past Arthur’s, though.”

Merlin swore and stopped dead in the doorway. “He sent somebody up?”

“Several somebodies.”

“What did you tell them?

Will waved an unconcerned hand. “I don’t remember.”

“Will - ”

“Isn’t he waiting for you to turn down his sheets or something?”

“Did you tell them I was at the tavern?”

Will smirked.

Merlin, cursing under his breath, took Daegal by the upper arms and maneuvered him into the room. “Drink some water. Kip on the patient cot - you’re up early collecting pots with Gaius tomorrow; you might as well sleep here.” He tore off his outerwear and dumped it on a table. “You,” he said to Will, “on the other hand, can go home, you ass.”

Will tipped his chair back, cupping a hand to his ear. “What’s that? ‘Have my bed, William’? All right, if you say so.”

Merlin flashed Will a rude gesture before tearing out of the room. Daegal caught the door before it could slam and closed it carefully, so as not to disturb Gaius, who was sleeping behind the screens that had been drawn around his corner.

Will rose from his seat with a yawn, stretching. “So you had your evening out at last.”

Daegal did not answer him, his mind still trapped back there in the stairwell with Merlin. I do, he heard again, as he struggled to untie his cloak. I do.

“Was it everything you thought it would be?”

Daegal managed to undo the knot, his fingers clumsy with cold. He pulled his cloak from his shoulders and folded it slowly, first in half, then in fours, and then laid it aside before doing the same with Merlin’s rumpled jacket, single-mindedly focused on his task.

“I hope you at least took something off Gwaine. Fellow’s too cocky for his own good.”

Daegal, out of things to fold, stared at his hands. Will came closer, scrutinizing Daegal in the low light. “How much did you have to drink?”

Daegal stuck his hands into his pockets, avoiding Will’s gaze. Not much, was the true answer, but he couldn’t find the words.

He fingered the coins in his pocket, the silver pieces cold and clinking against one another.

“Oi,” Will said, frowning. He tipped Daegal’s chin up to see his eyes. “You all right in there?”

Morgana had given Daegal a sack of coins just like this, once.

Daegal yanked his hands out of his pockets as if he had been burned, jerking back from Will’s fingers.

“This is wrong,” he blurted out.

Will blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“I can’t do this. It’s - I can’t. It’s not right.”

“What isn’t?”

“Everything! The birthday, the money, the tavern, the riding - ” Daegal's voice was rising, but he could not rein himself in. He had been trying to tell this to someone all day. “The horse, the land, breakfast - ”

Will stared at him, confounded. “Breakfast?”

Daegal struggled mightily not to holler in frustration. Will, of all people, ought to have understood, but it appeared he was committed to being just as obtuse as everyone else. “Yes! I don’t deserve it; it isn’t right - ”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. He did not give Daegal another chance to wake Gaius, but planted a hand on Daegal’s shoulder and spun him around, muttering, “Go,” in a low voice, pushing Daegal away from Gaius’s sleeping area in the direction of Merlin’s chambers. Daegal allowed himself to be marched up the little staircase, Will following, until they were both in Merlin’s room, the small chamber chilly and cloaked with shadows, lit only by a single hanging candle.

Closing the door, Will turned back to Daegal. “Start over,” he commanded.

Daegal whipped out Arthur’s envelope. “The King - he gave me a land grant.”

Will snatched the piece of parchment out of Daegal’s hand, scanning it briefly. “So?” he said, discarding the envelope onto Merlin’s desk. “He can afford it.”

“But it’s - ”

“Nothing he’ll miss.”

“But - ”

“But what?”

“The Queen - ”

“What about her?”

“She gave me a horse.”

Will shrugged. “And?”

“It’s too much! I can’t - ”

“Are you planning to thank her for it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to take care of it?”

“Of course!”

“Then what’s the trouble? She wanted you to have it.”

“She gave it to me for the wrong reasons!” Daegal exclaimed frustratedly. “She kept saying I helped her, but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even know she needed help. I thought she wanted the throne for herself - ”

“You stopped her killing her husband,” Will said, interrupting. “You saved his life.”

“I didn’t save him. I almost killed him. I’m the reason he needed help in the first place. But all of them are acting like - ” Daegal thought back to earlier that night, to Elyan, who had shown Daegal how to calculate Hazard odds in his head; to Leon, who had spoken to Daegal like one of the adults; to Percival, who had taught Daegal the less savory lyrics to the tavern’s favorite drinking songs; and to Gwaine, who had murmured advice in Daegal’s ear while Daegal cast his dice. “They kept saying I’d done their job for them. They - ”

A horrible, hollow feeling bloomed in Daegal’s chest, strangling his voice. He pulled the coins out of his pocket and dumped them onto Merlin’s desk, not wanting to carry that cold weight for another moment. “They don’t know me. They don’t know what I’m like.”

Will watched him closely, his eyes narrowing. “What are you like?”

Daegal shook his head and sank down onto Merlin’s bed, staring at the floor. He didn’t want to say it. He shouldn’t need to say it. Will already knew the whole story; Daegal shouldn’t have needed to retread all the ugly details.

Will folded his arms, leaning back against the top of Merlin’s desk. The single candle did very little to illuminate his set expression, but the moonlight in the window behind him threaded his silhouette with silver.

“I shouldn’t have said anything about my birthday,” Daegal murmured, his voice thick. “I should have just kept it quiet. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Will frowned. “Who said that?”

“Merlin. When I didn’t mention my birthday - he said you were - well, he said we were two of a kind.”

Will shook his head. “I don’t hide my birthday.”

“I think you must,” Daegal said stubbornly, returning to his intense inspection of the floorboards. “Because I don’t even know when it is.”

“Neither do I.”

Daegal looked up, surprised. “What?”

“I don’t know when my birthday is.”

“Why - ”

Will lifted a finger repressively, and Daegal realized he was not going to be getting that part of the story tonight, or maybe ever. “It doesn’t matter,” Will said. “I don’t care. I don’t fancy it much, anyhow. It’s nothing to me. Merlin, though - ” He gestured at the room around them, at the mussed bedclothes and the stacked manuscripts and the sketched diagrams pasted to the walls. “He doesn’t like it when I say things like that. It bothers him. He’s got ideas about how these things are supposed to be done, and he thinks it’s wrong, not telling me happy birthday, even if I’d rather he just left it alone.”

Daegal had no trouble believing it, if Merlin’s reaction to Daegal’s skipped birthday were anything to go by. “But then - ” Daegal frowned. “He mustn’t know when your birthday is, either.”

“My birthday,” Will said, in a long-suffering way, “is whenever Merlin decides he wants it to be. He comes crawling into my cott at some godsforsaken hour of the morning on whatever personally convenient day he’s picked that year, and then he yanks me out of bed and feeds me too much food and drags me all over creation doing the sort of things he thinks I’ll like doing. I’ve been telling him to drop it for more years than you’ve been alive, but he never listens. It doesn’t matter how much I whinge about it. He never forgets. He can’t help himself. He thinks it’s important, telling people he’s happy they were born, even if they don’t think being born was such a fantastic thing themselves.”

Will gestured at Daegal. “If you’re going to be one of his people now, you’re going to have to get used to that. You don’t have to like it, but you’ve got to understand it. That’s who he is. That’s how he treats people. He won’t give you a pass on birthday fuss just because you don’t think you’re worth fussing over. He’s not built that way.”

Daegal heard Merlin’s words again, echoing against the frozen stones of the stairwell. Who cares? Daegal had asked.

I do.

He twisted his fingers together. Out in the physician’s chamber proper, Gaius was snoring.

“It’s not just Merlin, though,” Daegal said finally, in a soft voice. “Everybody - all of them are doing too much.”

“Too much how?”

“They keep thanking me. But the gifts are - I didn’t earn them. I don’t deserve them.”

“Who told you that?”

“I don’t need anyone to tell me; I know.” Daegal stared at Will, helpless to explain why Will’s inability to accept this simple truth made him feel so utterly lost at sea. “I don’t understand this. You’re the one who kept saying I did something wrong.”

“You did do something wrong,” Will replied, as if this entire line of discussion were so obvious that it did not need to be examined. “But you did something right, too.”

“I - ”

Will held up a hand. “Who was it nearly got themselves killed saving Pendragon’s gleaming hide? Who was it betrayed Morgana?”

“Me, but - ”

“Who was it came back to save Merlin’s life?”

“From something I did to him in the first place.”

“From something Morgana did to him,” Will corrected.

“I helped,” Daegal retorted. “You’re always saying - you said I need to take responsibility.”

“You do,” Will said. “For all your choices. Not just the shyte ones.” He gestured at the door, back towards the rest of the castle. “You saved two lives. You nearly got yourself killed doing it. That’s what they’re all thanking you for. It’s not about what you did for yourself; it’s what you did for everyone else, when you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to come back for Merlin. You didn’t have to follow him to Camelot. You could have just taken Morgana’s money and run.”

“I tried,” Daegal confessed, his mouth very dry. “I tried. I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” Will said, as if he already knew the answer.

“I just - couldn’t.” Daegal remembered it with a nightmarish clarity, hesitating in the thickness of the undergrowth as the encroaching night muddled his vision, knowing that Merlin was suffocating at the bottom of a muddy ravine where no one would ever find his body. “I felt like something was going to swallow me. I would’ve rather died than felt like that all the time.”

“That’s because you know what’s right and what’s wrong,” Will said, as if he had been waiting for Daegal to say this all along. “And you chose right.”

“I chose wrong first.”

Will shook his head. “Lots of people choose wrong first. Doesn’t mean that what you choose next doesn’t matter.”

Daegal played with the hem of his sleeve, wrapping a fraying thread around his finger. Will pushed himself up from the desk and dragged Merlin’s chair over to a spot across from Daegal, then sat down. “Listen here,” he said. “I can’t say I’d be too pleased to get a load of gifts that I didn’t think I ought to have, either. But you can’t give them back, and you can’t convince people that you don’t deserve them, either.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve got to just smile, and say thank you, and do your best to be worthy of everyone’s gifts.”

Daegal absorbed this, nodding slowly. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Will said. “And so does everyone else.” Will met Daegal’s gaze unflinchingly, his outline illuminated at the edges by the moon at his back. “Don’t you ever tell me that lot doesn’t know what you’re like. They know it better than you do.”

Daegal swallowed, not trusting himself to speak.

“Now then,” Will said, linking his hands behind the back of his chair and stretching out his arms. “This is rubbish timing, but you’ve got to start practicing sometime, so let’s just get it over with.” He withdrew a thin, utensil-sized package from his pocket, extending it to Daegal. “Don’t have a crisis, now.”

“Oh - no - ” Daegal moaned.

“Oi,” Will warned. “What’ve we just talked about?”

Daegal took the parcel.

“Smile and say thank you,” Will prompted, when Daegal did not say anything right away.

Daegal managed a wobbly smile, and an even wobblier thank you, which Will, to Daegal’s very great relief, chose not to comment upon.

Daegal untied the parcel. The cloth casing fell away, revealing a short and sturdy pocketknife encased in a plain leather sheath. Daegal picked it up and turned it over in his hands, knowing immediately that Will had carved the handle himself. It fit into Daegal’s hand as if it had been moulded from a plaster cast, and it was the only part of the knife sporting any decoration, inscribed as it was with an angular script that Daegal could not read in this light. Daegal removed the sheath and found that the blade had been sharpened to a dangerous edge, the point glinting in the moonlight.

“Elyan did that bit,” Will said. “It ought to hold an edge better than what you have now.”

“No more mashing seed pods,” Daegal murmured.

“Exactly.”

Daegal ran a finger over the symbols carved into the handle. He hadn’t learned all his letters yet, but he thought he ought to have been able to recognize a few of them, at least. “What’s this writing?”

“Oh, that,” Will said, as if he had almost forgotten. “It’s spelled.”

“Spelled?”

“Magicked. Against slips. To spare your fingers.” Will waggled his own fingers in the air, and Daegal had to laugh a little.

“Merlin?”

Will’s face took on a thoughtful look. “No, actually.” He pointed at the unfamiliar runes, his tone becoming more serious. “Mordred says that if you’re going to exploit his people for personal gain, then you’re going to learn something about the culture.”

Daegal froze. A chill ran through him. He had never even considered -

He gripped the inscribed handle with sweaty fingers, mortified. “He’s angry with me.”

“No,” Will said. “I don’t think so, at least. It’s hard to tell with that fellow.”

At Daegal’s dismayed look, Will added, “He offered to spell the thing himself, at least, so I can’t imagine he’s too upset with you. But he has every right to be, you realize that?”

Daegal nodded quickly.

“You’re going to go and see him,” Will said, his voice calm, but his tone brooking no argument. “And you’re going to apologize, and you’re going to listen to whatever it is he wants to tell you. You understand?”

“Yes,” Daegal said quickly. “I’ll do it.” He glanced at the door.

“Not now,” Will clarified. “Tomorrow. He might not be angry just yet, but he will be if you yank him out of bed a few hours before he’s supposed to be on patrol.”

Daegal’s shoulders sagged. Will was right, but Daegal could not stand the thought of waiting. Yet another guilt-monster was chewing a hole in his stomach, and he was starting to think those gnawing teeth would never let him sleep. He recalled, suddenly, with a fresh wave of horror, the outrage on Merlin’s face when Daegal’s falsified triskele had smeared away, how tightly Merlin’s fingers had dug into Daegal’s wrist.

Here was one more stupid thing Daegal had done. One more person he’d injured. One more wrongheaded decision.

His eyes drifted longingly towards the door again.

“No,” Will said, shaking his head. “You made that bed, now you lie in it for one night.”

Daegal sighed, and Will’s tone softened. “You’ll make it right in the morning,” he said.

Daegal traced one of the Druidic runes with a finger. He supposed that was the best he could do.

Will stood up and beckoned for Daegal to join him. “Listen,” he said, pushing Merlin’s chair back under the desk. “It’s late. I don’t want you up all night brooding over this, all right?”

“All right,” Daegal said, but he had a feeling he was in for yet another night of lying awake under a blanket of guilt he had woven for himself.

“And - not that this needs to be said, but let’s not tell anyone you’ve got a magic pocketknife, all right? Pendragon will think I’ve been messing about with enchantments behind his back, and he’ll have me booted out of this kingdom faster than you can say insufferable bastard.”

“But you don’t have - ”

“Yes, I do,” Will reminded Daegal, giving him a significant look. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to tell people, if anybody starts asking questions.” He opened Merlin’s door, ushering Daegal through it. “But let’s not give folk a reason to ask, all right? Otherwise the next person trying to kill the king might be me, because if Pendragon wants me out of this place he’s going to have to execute me and exile my corpse, no matter if I did sign a stupid promise ‘renouncing the practice of magic in all its forms,’ or whatever other rubbish that idiot asked me to agree to.”

Daegal followed Will across the main chamber, watching while Will pulled on his outerwear. “I’m guessing he never gave you a land grant, then?”

Will burst into laughter, leaning heavily on the door handle. He only remembered to clap a hand over his mouth when a slumbering Gaius snorted and rolled over. “Oh, lor,” he wheezed, trying to recover himself. “Don’t do that to me.”

Daegal smiled sheepishly. Will straightened up, his eyes creased with pure, undisciplined mirth. “You won’t let all those fancy presents go to your head, now, will you?”

“I won’t,” Daegal promised. “But - about Arthur’s gift, though. I don’t actually know what to do with a plot of land.”

“Neither does Arthur,” Will said, rolling his eyes. “But I do, and so does Merlin. We’ll work it out together, all right?”

“All right,” Daegal said, as Will unlatched the door. “Erm. Will - ”

“Yeah.”

Smile and say thank you. “Thank you,” Daegal said, trying on a smile for size, hoping it did not falter too much at the corners. “For the knife, and - everything else.”

Will regarded him in that way of his that was very off-putting when you did not want to be read like a book but somehow oddly useful when you were trying to communicate something unspoken. “You’re welcome,” Will said finally, surprising Daegal by reaching out and mussing his hair. “See? You’ve got the hang of things already.”

Will turned to go, but when he reached the top of the staircase he paused, glancing back. “And, listen - ” he said, his voice low enough not to wake Gaius, but somehow warm enough to push back the December chill. “Whether you like it or not - happy birthday, lad.”

Daegal sat tucked away in one of the window nooks, his cloak wrapped around him like a blanket and the glass casement leaching heat away from his side. Merlin was long since abed, and Gaius’s muffled snores filled the main chamber, a soft drone of sound behind the screens. Outside, the moon hung chubby and ovoid in the sky, like a pale seed on a black field of soil, like the bulbs Daegal would plant in his new garden, which was out there somewhere, nestled in the farming fields of the Sprawl.

He rubbed his thumb over the unfamiliar runes carved into the handle of his birthday blade. His sixteen year-old self would have thrown that knife away, just to be safe. There would have been no reason for him to believe that someone he’d injured would ever magick a gift for him just to be helpful, and sixteen year-old Daegal would have assumed that the spell “to spare his fingers” was in fact a curse to make sure they all fell off.

But seventeen year-old Daegal was determined not to think like that anymore. He was not going to think the worst of everyone who tried to help him, and he was not going to throw away gifts, whether he thought he deserved them or not. He was going to smile, and say thank you, and do his best to be worthy of what he’d been given.

He leaned his forehead against the cold glass, looking down at the flickering lights on the city walls and the dark countryside beyond. The Sprawl’s rolling jumble of cottages and fields melted into a shadowy sea of forest, and far away, the looming bulk of the White Mountains towered over the skyline, the peaks’ black silhouettes only distinguishable at this hour by an absence of stars.

It was a very big world, Daegal thought, following the craggy outline of the range with his eyes. And he had made plenty of bad decisions blundering around within its borders, that was certain. But there was something beautiful about it still, even in the dead of winter.

And it was not nearly as bleak as it had appeared to be, this time last year.

Seventeen was going to be different, Daegal told himself. Like Merlin always said. It won’t always be like this. Things will be better. Daegal could make them better. He had chosen wrong first, but he could choose right next. He could choose right from now on. He had made a mistake, but he could make it right in the morning.

And tonight - tonight, it was still his birthday.

It isn’t, his sixteen year-old self snapped.

“It is,” Daegal said. “It’s my birthday.”

Who cares, the voice scoffed.

Daegal wrapped his fingers around his unearned mark of forgiveness, the grooves of the rune-etched handle imprinting themselves into his skin. “I do,” he said firmly, putting every ounce of conviction he had behind the words. “I do.”

His younger self shut its mouth.

Daegal smiled slightly. “Happy birthday to me,” he murmured, and was surprised to find that for the first time in a long time, he actually meant it.

Curled up against the window, he tucked his knife against his side and fixed his eyes on the horizon, settling in to wait for the sun.

#bbc merlin gen #fic #also fyi i know we haven't discussed the broader worldstate of this AU and you're welcome to change anything i chose to use here #but just for the purposes of this particular fic - lancelot did still die; but elyan did not #because i don't acknowledge writing decisions that had no narrative integrity 🙃#the once and future slowburn #verse: offcut joinery #the physician's apprentice #no kings no masters

62 notes · View notes

sonnetthebard · 3 years

Note

if it's not too much to ask, could i request a continuation to the jane/linda switched at birth story? 😅

Absolutely! Y'all really like this, don't you?

Genre: Drama/ Fluff?

Words: 1588

TL;DR: Linda accidentally ends up telling Emma about he and Jane being switched at birth

TW: Swearing

Side note: if anyone has ideas/ sketches to elaborate on this headcanon... please do them and tag me. I wanna see them. I mean I’m kinda loving it.

______________________________________________________

Linda sipped at her coffee, sitting at one of the small tables in Beanies. She let her legs dangle a bit, blowing on her coffee to close it. For once it was piping hot. That probaby had something to do with the fact that she was now rather close with Emma Perkins, the barista who had made it. Jane's sister- her sister. And god, could she ever see it. How could her sister ever work in a cafe though? The cafe had technically closed about five minutes ago, but... the manager, Nora, was letting her and Emma Perkins stay a bit longer to have a chat alone. Emma sighed, bringing over her latte and siitting down with Linda.

"Your coffee okay?" Emma checked. "I know the coffee here isn't too great, but... I tried to make it a bit better. I put a pump of hazelnut in there, and-"

"It's wonderful. Thank you." Linda cut her off, sighing. "Was it a good day at work today?"

"Eh, same old same old." Emma chuckled. "People are assholes sometimes."

"Tell me about it." Linda scoffed, smirking. "Any fun stories?"

"Well... this one guy tried to actually make me *sing* for my tip." Emma rolled her eyes. "Because Nora mentioned while he as at the counter that she'd seen a cafe in god-knows-where doing it."

"Did you actally have to sing?" Linda winced.

"God, no." Emma snickered. "Listen, it's no official rule yet. There's no sign, and therefore Nora can't make me."

"Thank god." Linda laughed along with her.

"Hey!" Emma mocked offence. "I'll have you know that I'm a pretty great singer!"

"Really?" Linda quirked a brow, smirking.

"Oh yeah! I played Fiona in my high school production of Brigadoon." Emma smirked back, putting on the scottish accent for 'Brigadoon'. "I'm not really into theatre any more, but... I fucking killed that role."

"Interesting..." Linda sighed, just taking a look at Emma again.

Sometimes when Emma brought up these significant memories Linda couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt. Because... she was this girl's older sister. She should have been there toshare those kinds of important moments with her. Not... not phony Jane Perkins. Who wasn't her sister. She liked Emma. A lot. Sure, Emma's life might be a bit grittier than her own, but... they had the same spunk. The same wit. Emma's was slightly less refined, and maybe a bit more crude, but it was there. In a lot of ways, it was like looking in a mirror. Both in looks and personality. That was, of course, if she had been a brunette.

"Hey, Linda, I've been meaning to ask you something." Emma bit her lip.

"Hm?" Linda hummed, indicating for her to go on.

"Why... why the sudden interest in me?" Emma asked carefully. "I mean, not that I don't love getting to actually get to know you- because you're great- but... I don't know. You're... you. You're rich, and your life is fabulous. And I'm me. A thirty-year-old barista at fucking Beanies."

"Well... I suppose I just felt drawn to you." Linda lied.

"Okay, no offence, but... bullshit." Emma sighed. "That's total bullshit! There's gotta be a reason."

"I simply noticed you at work, and... you reminded me of myself." Linda told her, inching closer to the truth.

"Really?" Emma blinked.

"You did... and you do. More and more with every second I spend with you." Linda nodded.

"But like... I know I'm repeating myself, but you're, like, fabulous. And I'm... me." Emma furrowed her brows.

"We've got the same spirit." Linda chuckled. "The same... spunk, if you will. The fire, and the sarcasm. We're peas in a pod."

"Is the sarcasm really that obvious just by looking at me?" Emma smirked.

"In the best way possible." Linda teased. There was a beat of silence between them as both sipped at their coffees.

"So... there was nothing more?" Emma checked.

"No... no, only that you're my sister." Linda sighed. A moment later she realized what she'd said.

"Pardon?" Emma blinked.

"I meant soul sister... sorry, it’s been a long day.” Linda chuckled nervously, hoping that would work.

"Okay, I would've believed that if you hadn't said anything, but... now that you've said it, it sounds so sketchy." Emma shook her head, stunned and suspicious. "What do you mean I'm your sister?"

"It's nothing. I misspoke." Linda blushed, looking to her feet.

"You're lying." Emma stated plainly. "I'm a little sister and a trouble maker. I read body language."

"Emma..." Linda pleaded, a pit in her stomach. She'd never meant to tell Emma. She had planned never to tell any of them.

"No, Linda. I want some fucking aswers." Emma demanded.

"No, you don't." Linda warned her. "Believe me... things will be a lot better if you just forget what I said.”

“No... Linda, you just called me your sister and then completely eliminated the ‘she’s jus being friendly’ context from the situation.” Emma stammered, clearly freaked out. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Fine.” Linda relented. “I didn’t want to tell you because... it’s fucked up, Emma. It really is. And it’s nothing I did, but... I still feel immensely guilty.”

“Just get to the fucking explanation!” Emma urged.

“My parents- the people who raised me- paid a nurse off to switch me and your sister as babies... It was silly, really. They wanted a natural blonde baby.” Linda sighed. “All of that to say... Jane was never your biological sister. I was.”

“What the fuck...” Emma breathed, eyes wide.

“That’s what I said when I read it in their financial files.” Linda sighed. She gave Emma a sympathetic look. “Now do you see why I didn’t want to say anything?”

“Um... yeah.” Emma nodded, still trying to take it in. “You’re my sister?”

“We can’t tell anyone, Emma.” Linda warned her.

"Right...” Emma agreed.

“It would cause too much of a fuss.” Linda sighed.

“Yeah...” Emma sighed. “So... what, did you start up this friendship because you felt guilty that your parents were heartless assholes who dumped their problem on my parents?”

“No. I did it because... if I had a sister, I wanted to know her. Even if she couldn’t know what she was to me.” Linda explained. “But... now you do, I suppose.”

“Yeah... I do...” Emma blinked.

“Please... don’t be too mad at me?” Linda pleaded. “I genuinely just wanted to-”

“No, I’m not mad at you. You did nothing wrong.” Emma assured Linda. “Just... God. I always knew there was something fucking weird about Jane.”

“Really?” Linda quirked a brow.

“Yeah... yeah, not even my parents understood where she got all the ambition and cunning from.” Emma nodded. “She was like... a total Slytherin. And I was very clearly a burnt-out Gryffindor. I mean, I’ve gone a little more Slytherin with my sarcasm over the years, but...”

“I’m sorry, a what?” Linda asked, confused. “Slithering?”

“Like... Hogwarts houses.” Emma checked. Linda stared blankly at her. “Oh my god... tell me my big sister knows what Hogwarts is...”

“I’m...” Linda started, before blinking. “Big sister?”

“Well, yeah... if you were switched with Jane, you’re my big sister.” Emma shrugged.

“So... we’re alright, then?” Linda blinked. “Just like that?”

“Well... yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Emma chuckled. “Look, it’s a lot to get used to, but... you’ve pretty much handled everything right. And... I really appreciate that once you found out, you wanted me in your life.”

“And I want you to know that I really did make an effort to get to know you right when I found out.” Linda assured her. “I only discoved it when I was going through my parents’ financials while planning their funeral.”

“Yeah, I can get why they would never tell you.” Emma sighed. “I mean... god. That was terrible. No offence but... they kinda sound like terrible people.”

“Well... just like Jane, they were very ambitious.” Linda bit her lip. “And they had a weird thing about keeping the blonde hair in the family.”

“They sound like the Malfoys.” Emma whistled.

“The who?” Linda asked, not recognizing that name.

“Right. You don’t know Harry Potter.” Emma remembered. “Okay, you know what? I think Paul’s at D&D with the boys from work tonight, so I’ve got the house to myself. You should come over, and we’ll watch as many of those movies as we can cram in.”

“Oh... okay.” Linda agreed. “Harry Potter... that sounds familiar.”

“It’s kinda a huge thing.” Emma chuckled. “You’re free, right?”

“Gerald’s taking the boys night golfing tonight, so yes.” Linda smirked. “Is this going to make me finally seem like a cool mom to my boys?”

“Probably.” Emma smirked back. “Alright... do you need a drive to my place?”

“I would appreciate one.” Linda nodded, following Emma out the door.

Perhaps that day staying late at a mediocre coffee shop had been the start of something beautiful. Or perhaps it had already started before. It was, at least, the day that Linda and Emma fully embreaced their sisterhood. And it really was only the beginning of their story. They would continue to blossom and grow together, and navigate what whas a confusing but worthwhile journey. It’s funny how sometimes you don’t know how much you need something until it’s handed to you. That sentiment couldn’t be any truer than it was with the two new sisters. Emma was precisely what Linda had always needed, and Linda what Emma needed. Finally, at long last, they could embrace that.

#linda monroe #emma perkins #tgwdlm #black friday #nightmare time #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #jane perkins #switched at birth #tw: swearing #oneshot #one shot #fan fic #fanfic #starkid fanfiction #send more requests!

12 notes · View notes

bamon4bamily · 3 years

Text

TVD 10x02 - While My Guitar Gently Weeps (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to - Munich, Germany. Elena is in one of the lab morgues. She is leaning against the freezers, writing in her diary.

Dear Diary,

Today will be different. I will start fresh. Be someone new. New year, new life, new diary. I’ve come all this way, thanks to my father, but I need to step out of his shadow, and make it on my own. I have to stop doubting myself… As that cute guy Sam told me, I was chosen for a reason. It’s time I start believing in myself and become the Elena Gilbert I always wanted to be. Away from Mystic Falls, the drama, the supernatural, the pain…

But, just between us, I feel like something is off… I mean, I’m glad to feel different, it’s just that in a weird way, I don’t feel quite like myself… Maybe it’s because the nightmares have come back… They are so vivid, as if I were living through it once more. The freezing water, the air escaping my lungs, the despair of knowing they were with me. That horrible feeling, over and over again… I thought I had healed, as much as one can heal from something like that, but I can still feel her hand slipping away… At times I think my dad blames me for letting her go. If he only knew the real reason both of us survived, maybe he wouldn’t resent it so much. Regardless, I will forever be thankful to Stefan for saving us that night. Although he still blames himself for not being able to save my mother, there was nothing anyone could have done.

Okay, enough about the past, I need to move on, build a new life for myself, and maybe, even find a new love… No vampires this time! Whatever comes, I’m living my life to the fullest! Letting myself be free… No fear, no guilt, no insecurities… Project Munich, here I come!

Suddenly, she hears a noise. If it weren’t coming from one of the freezer drawers, she wouldn’t be startled, but since it clearly is, her heart starts pounding. She approaches cautiously…

Before she can even grab the handle, the drawer slams open…

SAM: Boo!

ELENA: Oh my god, Sam?! You scared me half to death!

SAM: (Smirking) Good thing it was just half way. Wouldn’t want you dying on me.

ELENA: Well, what if I had a heart condition?! I could have!

SAM: A heart condition, or died?

ELENA: Well, both… But you know what I mean! You are so weird!

SAM: This coming from the girl leaning against body freezers in the middle of the night…

ELENA: At least I wasn’t lying in one of them like some kind of zombie!

SAM: It’s surprisingly relaxing…

ELENA: (Mocking) Being a zombie or lying in the freezers?

SAM: I suppose, both… (they crack up).

ELENA: Anyway, what are you doing here?

SAM: I like to come here to think… It’s quiet. You?

ELENA: Same… Guess we’re a couple of weirdos…

SAM: A little eccentric is all. (They smile in complicity). I will confess though; I do have an alternative motive…

ELENA: Oh, god. Please don’t tell me you are a psycho killer. I’ve dealt with enough of those…

SAM: I’m not going to ask why, but I do want to ask you something…

ELENA: (With a suspicious face) Uhm, okay… what?

SAM: Do you like picnics?

ELENA: That question isn’t helping your psycho case… But, yeah, I do. Why?

SAM: How about you and me, tomorrow… Wine and cheese in the main garden?

ELENA: (Kittenish) Are you asking me on a date?

SAM: Depends… is it a yes, or a no?

ELENA: Depends… is it red wine, or white?

SAM: Red, of course! What kind of a psycho drinks white wine?

ELENA: Plenty… And, you literally just met me, so there is a risk I might actually be one of them.

SAM: (Flirtatious smirk) I’m willing to take the risk, if you are…

ELENA: What the hell! Life is too short to play it safe.

SAM: I like the way you think. It’s a date then!

ELENA: It’s a date.

SAM: Huh, I totally thought that was going to fail…

ELENA: You never know until you try, right?

SAM: (Smiles) I guess you don’t… Listen, it’s really late, do you want me to walk you to your dorm? I know this place is infested with military, but what if you run into a ghost? Pretty sure they would be clueless about how to handle that.

ELENA: (Laughs) Neither would you. But, you are not nearly as scary as they are, so I’d rather take my chances with you.

SAM: (Teasing) I happen to be a paranormal aficionado; I know how to handle a ghost.

ELENA: Oh, really?

SAM: I’ve seen all Ghost Busters movies a million times! I know what I’m doing!

ELENA: (Sarcastic) A Ghost Busters fanboy, that’s very comforting… (As they are walking out) Oh! And don’t think that just because I agreed to go on a date with you, I won’t get you back for the near heart attack you gave me … I happen to be a real horror movie aficionada; better watch your back…

Cut to – Mystic Falls Town Hall. Matt has been officially sworn in to take office as the new Mayor of Mystic Falls. Although he is worried about Edward’s abrupt decision, especially knowing the context behind his un-rational behavior, he can’t help but feel proud. This is what he had wanted all his life. And, given Edward’s current psychological condition, this decision was probably for the best.

COUNCIL SPEAKER: Mayor Donovan, I speak on behalf of all my colleagues, we welcome you to this body of representatives with open arms, and ensure you that you have our full support, respect, and commitment.

MATT: It is my honor to have been entrusted with this duty. I will work day and night to rightfully serve our town, my home town. I will forever be grateful to Mayor Powell for believing in me, and giving me the opportunity to give back to the people that have built this town from scratch. In my first order of duty, I hereby announce the newly appointed Chief of Police, Sheriff Jackson. A woman of honor, courage and morals. I am certain she will serve this town with honor, loyalty, truth, knowledge and commitment. Please, give her a round of applause.

SHERIFF JACKSON: Thank you, Mayor Donovan. I wear the badge with pride. I am humbled and honored to be given this responsibility. Trust that my team and I will follow the example you gave to us, and will serve and protect this community with the same passion and commitment you did. We might be in different offices now, but we will always be family.

MATT: Always! Thank you, Sherriff Jackson. I have no doubt that you will surpass both mine and my predecessor’s accomplishments. In closing, I’d like to say that although we face many challenges ahead, I’m confident that we can overcome any obstacle by working together, always prioritizing people. Mystic Falls is a town built by its citizens, for its citizens. It is our duty to ensure the wellness and prosperity of all. Once again, thank you. Time to get to work! (They applaud).

Cut to – The Mikaelson mansion. Abby and Klaus are talking about Hope settling-in at the Salvatore School, among other things.

ABBY: Hope looked so happy... And her dorm room is amazing! At the main house and a single! How lucky was she!

KLAUS: I had to “persuade” Alaric to make sure she was given the best accommodations.

ABBY: (Smiles) I’m sure you did…

KLAUS: And how is Bonnie settling in her new home? I honestly cannot comprehend how she could voluntarily agree to spend day and night with Damon Salvatore. Are we certain he is not compelling her?

ABBY: (Smirks) You know he can’t, although I kind of wish that was the reason (they laugh). From what she told me this morning; the house is beautiful. Guess we’ll have to wait and see, if she ever invites us over.

KLAUS: She will, love, give her some time. They just moved in together, they need their privacy. (Suddenly, the door opens, in come Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, Freya, Marcel, and Danae, suitcases and all). Uhm, excuse me, what is this unexpected visit about? Our family reunion isn’t until spring…

ELIJAH: Lovely to see you too, brother. Do pardon if our sudden arrival interrupts your tea time, but we are in a bit of a pickle. We have been cursed out of New Orleans; and, the last time I checked, this was also our home.

KLAUS: I am gone, for not even a month, and you somehow manage to get yourselves thrown out of what is rightfully ours? How exactly did that come to be?

MARCEL: Why don’t you ask Kol…

KOL: Oh, come on, Marcellus, it’s as much your fault as it is mine. And, don’t act so innocent, Elijah. You had your hand in this too.

ELIJAH: (Fixing his cufflinks) Maybe a little…

REBEKAH: While you boys decide who is to blame, I’ll go settle down in my bedroom.

KLAUS: You can’t. We turned it into a games room.

REBEKAH: (Indignant) Excuse me?!! How dare you!? Why my room?! Why not Elijah’s or Kol’s!?

KLAUS: Yours was better fitted for the purpose. Nothing personal, love.

REBEKAH: Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t… (Turns to Abby) And definitely nothing to do with you, right?

ABBY: (Sarcastic) Of course not, I wouldn’t dare! This was all him!

KLAUS: (Smirks) Traitor… Anyhow, dear sister, there are plenty of other rooms you can choose from.

REBEKAH: Whatever. I’ll go find myself a room you two haven’t ruined, yet.

FREYA: I’m coming with. You people forget I’ve never been in this house!

DANAE: Really? I thought you had. I mean, even I have stayed here.

FREYA: And, thanks for rubbing that in, my love.

DANAE: No ill intentions, hon. I’m just surprised.

FREYA: (Sarcastic) Guess being a Mikaelson didn’t grant me the privilege, but being Klaus’s best friend’s girlfriend sure did.

KLAUS: Oh, don’t be so dramatic, sister. You are here now, are you not?

REBEKAH: Forget him, sis, this is our house too. We’ll give you the grand tour. Once we get dibs on the best rooms (they leave).

KLAUS: So, dear brothers, care to explain to me exactly how you got yourselves into this “pickle”?

ELIJAH: We will. But we are going to need something stronger than tea…

ABBY: Oh, it’s not tea. We just pretend it is, so we don’t feel like we are day drinking.

KOL: Who cares about that! We are vampires, love; we can do whatever we want!

KLAUS: KLAUS: (Sarcastic) My loving brother Kol, can we please go back to the topic at hand? I’d like to know exactly how long I can expect to have you all around.

ELIJAH: It is going to be a while…

MARCEL: If not forever.

KOL: (Mocking) Look on the bright side, Marcellus, you’ll have time to get to know Mystic Falls. Despite what some believe, it is quite the charming little town… And, our home sweet home, for now… Better get used to it.

Cut to – Pietro’s mansion. Him and Darius are having a “secret” con-call after their board meeting.

PIETRO: I’ve had just about enough. We need to retaliate for this. You didn’t see the aftermath, this place looked like a slaughterhouse.

DARIUS: Courtesy of your ripper brother, I presume?

PIETRO: Not sure which one of them did it, or if it was the three of them, but I had to get a professional cleaner.

DARIUS: You should really consider getting video surveillance, clears these types of doubts right up.

PIETRO: Never, those things give me all sorts of peeping Tom vibes. Anyway, I’m sorry about your witch friends, I’ll make it up to you.

DARIUS: I warned you not to play games. Now we’ve lost a coven of very talented witches, three potential recruits; we are clueless as to where the others are, and made the rest of the board members believe everything was going according to plan… (Sarcastic) Kudos!

PIETRO: Don’t you dare give me attitude about this, you have messed up worse than I have.

DARIUS: True; fair enough. Let’s not enter into panic mode, it’s a minor misstep. We’ll find them soon enough. In the meantime, as per Augustus’s orders, it seems like I have to find a replacement for Kai…

PIETRO: That was certainly an unexpected surprise. I thought he would be pleased with his progress.

DARIUS: I’m beginning to think Augustus feels threaten, more so after I shared Kai’s recent achievements.

PIETRO: Did you sense something was off with him during the call?

DARIUS: Well, the Augustus I know would have had Kai killed if he wanted him out of the game, not fired.

PIETRO: And it’s strange that he was willing for this Tamara thing to take more time, as long as Kai was off the task.

DARIUS: (Teasing) Maybe he’s starting to like his hostage situation; Stockholm syndrome type of thing?

PIETRO: (Smirks) Perhaps… Regardless, both Kai and Katerina would have been excellent for the field battle; they have stamina, and are surely gifted in terms of the supernatural.

DARIUS: I know. But there are plenty of fish in the sea. From what Veritas showed us with the Munich project, and the “gadgets I’ve been working on with Kai, soon we might have even stronger pawns to play around with.

PIETRO: Hey, I had a lot to do with the Munich project. I’m not letting him take all the credit! I led that project for years, set all the ground work, and the money.

DARIUS: Don’t be so defensive, my friend. We all know you did an excellent job. But, you have to give him some credit, Veritas is hardcore when it comes to discipline. As soon as he brought in the military, voilà!

PIETRO: (Snarky) His leading style borders on dictatorship, I prefer a motivational approach.

DARIUS: I’m with you on that. He sure as hell can scare the shit out of anyone into doing anything. Just ask Aletheia…

PIETRO: He is the oldest vampire in existence, and a psychic one, nonetheless; of course he can. I’m not ashamed to admit it; he has almost made me “piss my pants” once or twice.

DARIUS: I can say the same. You know, it’s truly fascinating that the so called “Originals” are oblivious to the fact about their true origins… I’m sure Veritas would have a blast with them, if they ever manage to figure it out.

PIETRO: Oh, I’m sure they will, if not for their wits, definitely once our plans unfold.

DARIUS: I call dibs on first row seats!

PIETRO: I want the full behind the scenes experience! (They laugh).

DARIUS: Well, I have to run now. I need to go fire my star employee and the Russian spy…

PIETRO: Good luck. We’ll talk soon.

Cut to – The Bamon home. The gang is in the “Batcave” planning their next move.

SAGE: (Starting to worry about Pietro’s retaliation for their escape). We are 100% sure this place can’t be found, right? I’m not very familiar with the witch stuff; or the vampire stuff for that matter; I’m a newbie.

BONNIE: Don’t worry, there is no way anyone can find it.

SAGE: Not even that Darius guy?

BONNIE: Especially not him.

SAGE: Can’t they track your cellphones?

BONNIE: Not while the house is cloaked. Beauty of magic.

SAGE: This magic stuff is really cool!

BONNIE: You ain’t seen nothing yet… But, fair warning, it can get a little weird…

CAROLINE: (Teasing) Just a little? (They laugh) Don’t worry, you are in good hands.

SAGE: Sorry; freaked out for a moment… Pietro can be quite vicious when he’s angry, and I’m sure he’s fuming right about now.

DAMON: Don’t be scared, Stefan and I got years on him. Now, back to the mission at hand. How are we going to break into this place without Kai?

STEFAN: What if we give our brother a taste of his own medicine? He can be our way in.

DAMON: I love when your mind goes devious, brother. What exactly are you thinking of?

STEFAN: There is an upside to having an Original vampire in town, and one who just happens to be in love with Bonnie’s mom… I’m betting he’ll do just about anything to get on your good side, Bon.

BONNIE: Stefan, you are a genius!

And, he does owe me big time! But, let’s avoid the whole “being in love with Bonnie’s mom” thing; still freaks me out.

STEFAN: Not another word on that, Bon.

DAMON: Ah, blackmail, deceit, and compulsion, my kind of tactics!

BONNIE: I’ll call my mom to invite them over for dinner, then we’ll guilt trip them into their part of the plan.

SAGE: Bit lost again, what’s an Original vampire?

CAROLINE: Oh, Sage. There is so much for you to learn about the vamp world. Stick with us, and you’ll learn everything you need to know.

SAGE: That would be amazing! Been pretty much self-taught since I was turned, which was literally just weeks ago.

CAROLINE: I know firsthand how important it is to have a mentor when you are new at this. We got your back.

SAGE: Thank you, I’ll take all the help I can get.

CAROLINE: We’ll help you with the supernatural, you’ll help us with the Science; win, win. The sooner we get these guys, the sooner we can go back to our normal lives.

SAGE: Deal! To be honest, I was thinking about fleeing back to Germany the moment I got away from Pietro’s claws. Forget all this craziness and just return to being a student, with a new blood craving. But I think academia is pumped up to be more than it really is. What good are all the fancy titles without being on the battle ground? I’ve done my fair share of studying, it’s time I apply my knowledge for the common good, and this seems like the perfect cause to do so. Now that we know they are okay; I have no reason to go back. (Turns to Bonnie and Damon) Don’t panic, I’m not planning to stay here. As soon as we take care of this, I’m going back home to NYC; I really miss it.

BONNIE: (Smiles) We’re not panicking. And you can stay here for as long as you need.

CAROLINE: Okay, just so we are all aligned. We’ll get Klaus to compel Pietro, but how exactly are we going to get to Pietro? We can’t have Klaus show up at his house and be like: hello, I’m going to compel you now…

STEFAN: We’ll make sure he’s alone and lure him outside. Then Klaus, Damon and I, will take it from there. Three against one, should be a piece of cake.

DAMON: Sounds like a plan. Now, on to a crucial matter. (Turns to Bonnie) First time having my mother-in-law over for dinner, what should be the menu?

BONNIE: (Smirks) Whatever you want will be perfect.

DAMON: How about Italian? Play it safe...

BONNIE: Ooh, gnocchi arrabbiata?

DAMON: Perfetto!

CAROLINE: (Giddy) Aw, I love domestic Bamon!

DAMON: Don’t think you are just going to stand and watch, you are all helping!

The only one that gets a free pass is Bonnie, she has somewhere to go.

BONNIE: Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that…

CAROLINE: Bon, are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you?

BONNIE: I’m sure. Thank you, Care. I’m gonna head out now before it gets late. I won’t be long (kisses Damon).

I love you...

DAMON: I love you too. Head message me if you need anything.

BONNIE: I will (she leaves).

STEFAN: (To Damon) Are you okay?

DAMON: I’ll be fine when I know she’s fine…

CAROLINE: I still can’t believe he’s back! He better have a damn good explanation, otherwise I’m going to send him right back where he came from!

DAMON: You and me both, Blondie...

Alright, I need to keep my mind busy, so let’s get to work. Making gnocchi is a mission on its own!

TVD 10x02 (part 2) coming soon. Hope you stop by, read, and enjoy! =)

12 notes · View notes

bjy-on-ao3 · 4 years

Note

Reader is a noob sexually (and her body is sensitive), is a shy introvert, and is a bit petite. She and Adachi have become lovers recently. One evening after Adachi comes back from work he finds reader in his apartment horny and turned on. She begs him to relieve her. I'd love if it had dirty talk, degradation, some biting, and rough sex. Omg please please please

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

This checks off most of the boxes for the request if I understood it correctly. Also, I don’t really think Adachi would be the type to give someone a key to his place, but the alternative is ‘Reader is a bit yandere and picked the lock’ and I didn’t think that matched up with this well. Thank you for your patience, I know it’s been a while since this request was made! Summary Reader invites themselves into Adachi’s apartment while he’s away at work. Adachi punishes them for their shameless, though it might just be encouraging the bad behavior. Tags/Warnings Biting, Creampie, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Established Relationship, Misogyny, Name-Calling, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Sex

Mercy (F! Reader/Tohru Adachi)

“Ugh, what a crap day.”

Adachi approached the door to his apartment, feeling tired and bitter as ever. On one hand, he was happy to be off shift and not have to worry about behaving like the overly nice guy society demanded. On the other, he knew it wouldn’t last long.

His train of thought and speech screeched to a stop as he noticed a light shining from his apartment window. “Did I leave that on?” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. It wasn’t like him to forget something like that. He didn’t need to be paying extra for power he wasn’t using.

Torn from his thoughts, Adachi was on guard now, focused on the apartment. He decided he hadn’t left the light on, so who had? Had someone broken into his apartment? Out of all those they could have chosen, the home of a police detective seemed the poorest choice. Neighborhood hooligans causing trouble, maybe? He couldn’t be sure.

He crept to the door, finding it still locked. The befuddled look on his face deepened even further. Had it been him after all? Unless… He shook his head, finding his key and unlocking the door before pushing it open tentatively. He cast a wary glance around the kitchen the door opened into. No one. Not a soul to be seen, and nothing in the room looked awry. At least, not until his eyes swept over the sliding door adjoining the kitchen and his bedroom, which he noticed was barely ajar.

He moved toward the sliding door with a long, purposeful stride, though quietly. He slid open the door with a loud noise and a flourish. His eyes widened when he spied a figure sitting on his bed that popped up as the doors slammed open. He wiped the surprise from his face when he realized who it was that had made themselves so comfortable on his bed.

“Tohru, you’re home. Finally,” you greeted. You stood there, looking genuinely glad and relieved to see him, dressed only in a loose shirt and panties. Adachi was as perplexed as ever, abruptly remembering the key he had given you to his apartment. “I’ve been waiting for you,” you confessed happily, though something desperate lingered beneath the cheer.

“Waiting for me?” He asked. He reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, expecting to see a missed message or something stating your intent to come over and wait for him to arrive back from work. No missed calls, no unread messages. Nothing.

“I...I couldn’t stop thinking about last time.” Your voice was low, meek almost, as if it were embarrassing to admit, and you cast your eyes to the floor. Adachi said nothing, feeling as if you weren’t finished speaking, despite your hesitant tone. Not that Adachi wasn’t used to you being shy, especially admitting certain things. “It’s been driving me crazy,” you finished, looking him back in the eyes.

When Adachi observed the noticeably wet spot in your panties, it hit him what you were alluding to. The confusion took a backseat to pride, and he couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh? Is that right?” He asked pressingly, willing you to go on.

You swallowed nervously, hesitating as if trying to pluck the right words from the air before you spoke. “Y-yes. Whenever I try to go about doing something else, the memory... just comes right back to me,” you explained. There was a neediness creeping into your tone. “I tried, um, taking care of stuff by myself, but…” you stopped, unsure how to continue. Stating it so plainly was a mortifying idea.

But Adachi wasn’t going to let you off easily. Especially when you had come over to his apartment just to wait for him because you needed him so badly. You were going to fess up one way or another what you wanted from him, even if he already knew from context.

“But what, baby?” His speech had some of the warmth you heard when he was in town, in public, but the cool and alluring tone beneath it belied a very different mood.

The fake warmth soothed you enough to confess more. “It’s...it’s not the same. It has to be you. It has to be your hands… has to be your cock.” The words coming out burned as hotly as you knew your face did. “I need you, please… Tohru,” you trailed off again, the words getting stuck in your throat.

Your heart pounded even faster in your chest. It had already been screaming, protesting your brazenness and warring with your desire. But you needed relief and only Adachi could give it to you. You recalled the saying about it being easier to ask forgiveness rather than permission, but now standing there feeling like your face was on fire, when there was no taking it back, you weren’t so sure. Adachi never had been the most forgiving person in the time you’d been together, after all. But he didn’t seem mad now. Perhaps that should have been more frightening.

“C’mon, keep going. I wanna hear more about what a needy little whore you are,” Adachi insisted. The mocking tone and degrading term was something you were familiar with from him. It excited you as much as it unsettled you.

You took in a steadying breath that rattled in your chest. Speaking lewdly so boldly was new to you. Hell, so much of what you’d learned from being with Adachi was new to you. “I… touch me, Tohru, please. F-fuck me, I need you so bad,” you finally said. It amazed you that you hadn’t spontaneously combusted by now.

Adachi, crooked smile inching wider, stepped further into his bedroom, closing the sliding doors with a shuffling sound and moving toward you. You made to meet him in the middle of the bedroom, but he brushed past you to stand by the bed, leaving you looking on in confusion. “Hmm, as hot as that is, I don’t think you’ve earned it,” Adachi concluded, turning to face you.

Protests sprang from your lips immediately, unthinking. “B-but, Tohru, please, I—”

“Shut your mouth, dumb cunt,” Adachi snapped venomously. You licked your lips anxiously and did as you were told. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. You come over late at night, uninvited, without a single word, and expect me to fuck you?” There was an indignant incredulousness in his tone, but something else just beneath. “I think you need to be taught a lesson,” he said. The previously surprised and then neutral gaze he had given you had turned narrow and cold.

“W-what do you mean?” You asked genuinely.

“Come here.” The command was short, providing no room for negotiation, but that didn’t stop you.

“Tohru, I just—”

“ Now , you stupid bitch,” Adachi snarled, his patience wearing thinner. You hastily made your way back to the bed until you stood beside him, watching keenly, a light tremor coursing through you. Of fear or excitement or both, you weren’t sure. “That’s better,” Adachi said, tone much less sharp.

He raised one hand to the curve of your hip, letting it lay there almost gently, and you sighed. His other hand lifted to your mouth where he absently pressed his thumb to your lips. You gave in to the pressure quickly, letting the digit slide past your lips and swiping your tongue over it, before sucking at it.

“Now, just how should I punish a selfish little whore?” He stroked over your enthusiastic tongue, pressing down hard and thrusting his thumb further back, making you nearly gag. “Ah, I think I’ve got it,” Adachi declared, a glee trickling into his voice. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and his touch abandoned you altogether, making you whine. “Get rid of those,” he demanded, prodding at your clothes.

“Yes, Tohru, anything,” you agreed, eagerly stripping and discarding them onto the floor in a heap. Your trembling was even more evident when you waited before him fully bare, though the chilly air of the room didn’t help.

“Now bend over,” Adachi commanded, with a nod of his head to his bed. “I want to see that tight little ass.”

You nodded dumbly, stepping around him and bending over the mattress, burying your hands in the sheets. You didn’t look back at first, trying to regain some control of your pulse and the shudders that wracked your body. Adachi pressed close behind you, and you squirmed ticklishly away from the hem of his blazer and tie as they trailed over your skin.

He lay one palm languidly on the swell of your ass, caressing reverently for a moment and enjoying the heat and softness of your skin. His other hand imitated it, before rolling over and clamping onto your hip opposite the first.

“How much did you touch yourself while you waited for me, huh?” Adachi asked casually, as if it were a simple, not absolutely embarrassing question to answer.

“I-well, I—” Your voice cracked and rang out in a surprised yelp when Adachi lifted the hand groping your ass away and brought it down harshly onto the sensitive skin. “S-so much! But it wasn’t—” Adachi’s heavy hand broke your speech again as he swatted your ass a second time, making both cheeks tingle and sting. “But it wasn’t enough! I need you . I had to come see you!” You cried out, voice shaking, the spankings only making more wetness pool between your legs.

“Yeah? And you couldn’t be bothered to tell me?” Adachi seemed most upset by your audacity. He raised his hand in another smack, sharper this time, the sound of skin-on-skin resounding in the bedroom and you shouted. “Guess I shouldn’t expect a whore like you to have the brains to think straight,” he degraded in a hiss, giving one cheek a harsh squeeze.

“I wanted to s-surprise you—aah, fuck!” You cursed when Adachi struck you again, the spankings coming quicker, giving you less time to recover.

“Is that so?” He sounded unconvinced.

“Yes, Tohru. Please, I just want you, I need you,” you begged. “I ca—” The next slap on your ass was the hardest yet, ripping a strangled sound from your throat. “I can’t cum without you!” You shouted, desire and pain straining your voice.

Yet giving Adachi what he wanted was as much of a bane as disobeying. It just made him more cocky, invigorating him to torment you and draw out even more lewd confessions. “Oh yeah? And what if I didn’t want to let you cum?”

The spankings paused as he spoke, as if he wanted to allow you the clarity to take them in. A particularly violent shiver rocked you at the obscenity of his words and the thought of being left with the burning need between your legs untended and ignored. “What if I just wanted to fuck your cute little mouth when I’m done here and send you home?: He threatened. He punctuated the sentence with another hard smack to your ass and you whimpered.

Tears burned in the corner of your eyes, frustration and pain and something vaguely pleasurably smoldering beneath both. Already your ass stung and throbbed, and you knew it would bruise luridly the next day. Beneath you, despite the brace of your arms supporting you, your thighs quaked, your knees threatening to buckle and dump you face first into the sheets.

“No, Tohru please, you have to—” you started, but Adachi cut you off again with another vicious spanking.

He grabbed a fistful of hair in the hand that had held your hip, jerking your head back and making you wince at the strain of the angle. His lips met your ear, and his words made the hair on the back of neck stand on end as yet another shiver seized you.

“I don’t have to do anything, slut.” he said nastily. “You’re my little toy and you’ll take what I give you and thank me when I’m done.” He stopped, and his grip loosened. “Maybe if I feel good enough, you can even cum.”

Adachi let his fingers slip from your hair, the hand on your stinging ass moving away, too, and he shifted closer. The cool fabric of his pants and even colder metal of his belt buckle against your burning skin was a relief, though you still squirmed from the sensation. Past the press of the fabric, you clearly felt how hard Adachi was despite his angry demeanor.

You didn’t realize he had been expecting you to respond until he seized your chest in his hands, tweaking both nipples cruelly and leaving a hard bite on the curve of your neck and shoulder, growling in your ear again. “Well? Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Tohru. I-I’ll take it all. Anything. Everything,” you agreed demurely, your voice shaking along with your body. All the cruel stimulation set you on edge, rattling your words even more than your nerves normally might. “F-fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured under your breath as Adachi continued to roughly toy with your breasts.

Adachi stood straight, his palms leaving your chest and retreating to your ass again, His fingers snaked down to your soaked lips, spreading them open and admiring the slickly glistening pink within. His eyes flickered for a second to the wet spot left on his slacks from where they had been pressed against your slick.

“Look at you. Dripping wet already and I’ve hardly touched your pussy,” he shamed. He was careful not to let his fingers slip further in, as much as he wanted to. “What a pathetic little whore,” he spat out, and you made a soft, desperate sound that only confirmed his words.

“You should be happy I don’t just leave you high and dry right now,” Adachi supplied, as if you ought to thank him for his mercy. But I’ve had a long day and I could use the relief. So consider yourself lucky.”

His touch abandoned you again altogether, and you heard the distinctive sound of his belt buckle clinking, coming undone, and the rustle of his slacks as he disposed of them. Adachi let himself indulge finally in the wetness pooled between your thighs, seeping down them. He slid two fingers easily between your lips, gathering the fluid there and making an appreciative noise as it glistened on his fingers. He raised his fingers to his lips, quickly cleaning them before pressing himself up against your ass.

You winced, the skin still stinging, but you couldn’t help but feel excited all the same at the touch of his hot, bare skin on yours. You cried out again when Adachi grabbed your sore cheeks in both hands, kneading savagely. He thrust himself between your pussy lips, but not inside, coating his cock with your essence. You gave a soft moan, a mixture of hurt and relief, and whimpered pitifully. His cock was so close to where you wanted him, yet with the mood he was in, you wondered if Adachi intended just to antagonize you.

One indecisive hand moved away and back to your chest, pinching a nipple so hard more tears sprang to your eyes and you let out a gasp. “Aaah, Tohru, that hurts,” you complained in a wavering voice strangled by tightness in your throat.

“Good. Maybe it’ll teach you something,” he said, a mean, husky undertone of excitement edging into his voice. “Next time you touch yourself, thinking about me, you tell me,” he warned, bucking his hips and sliding slickly through your lips again.

The tears broke, rolling over your cheeks, feeling cool in contrast to your burning face. “Yes, yes, I swear I will next time, Tohru. I swear,” you promised. Anything to end your punishment and persuade Adachi to bury himself in the needy place he was already so close to. But he wanted to be crystal clear you understood.

“You wait until you’ve got my permission before you come barging in here,” he started. “I’ll fuck your brains out when I want. You’re my shameless whore to use when I want to get off. Have I made myself clear, baby?” There was that gentle term of endearment, mixed in again with the mean names. And yet it felt the most biting of them all.

You nodded your head frantically in compliance, biting your lip and fighting back the sting and the desperate need assaulting your nerves. It wasn’t enough to satisfy Adachi though, and he prompted you to speak by once more by squeezing your ass and your chest sharply. You nearly yelled your answer, obeying the ache, “Yes! I-I’ll only come over when you want me.”

That seemed to be enough. “Good. Now that we’ve got that cleared up and you’ve got me all worked up…” Adachi stopped, pressing his cock more firmly against your dripping heat to emphasis the effect you had on him, “I think it’s time I fucked that needy cunt of yours.”

“Please…” you whined in a pitiful, breathy tone. Despite all the torment, the crude names and rough treatment, you craved him.

Adachi moved against you roughly, cock slipping through your folds again until the thick head pressed against your entrance. He didn’t bother taking his time or savoring the stretch, entering you, fast and rough, all at once. You groaned and shuddered again, the need burning higher the satisfying relief of feeling him hot and hard inside you. You whimpered his name, fisting the sheets tighter and arching back into him.

When he drew back, taking the wonderful fullness with him, you could have cried all over again, but you weren’t left wanting for long, and he slammed back home and filled you to the brim. The motion repeated, his hips rocking against yours carelessly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, melding with obscene, wet noise from your cunt and the raspy, shaky moans pouring from your mouth. Adachi’s low groans and numerous swears under his breath joined your voice as he pushed himself as far as he could go, relishing in the soft heat clenching around his cock.

“Shit, you’re so goddamn tight. Did you need my cock this bad?” He groaned, giving one ass cheek another light slap. It was enough to make you gasp and squirm again, but not nearly so hard as your punishment before.

Eventually his other hand joined its twin on your breasts, filling both palms greedily and toying with the nipples. He leaned down, pressing his clothed chest into your back so he could drive himself even harder into your cunt and bite harshly at your shoulders and neck. His growling, excited words were closer now, adding to the fire bubbling in your belly under your skin.

“Pathetic… needy… little… bitch.” His words were broken, interrupted by pants and the force of his hips each time he bucked into you. You moaned louder, your cunt clamping down even more around him at the humiliating words. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for? To be used like a worthless little cock sleeve?” He degraded, his pace slowing, but not the force behind it, his words coming out lower, clearer.

He didn’t need to spur you to answer this time, not with his hands kneading your chest and his cock filling you up over and over so deliciously, making the knot in your gut tense and heat.

“Aaah, y-yes! It’s amazing,” you breathed, voice wavering but thick with the arousal that made you feel near mindless. “You feel so, so good,” you continued, the praise catching in your throat as Adachi touched something inside you that felt especially good.

“Such a good little slut.” The depraved praise was just another catalyst for the fire in your abdomen that strung your body tight. But in it you could hear the way your body affected Adachi as well. A strain dawned in his voice, and his breathing became more ragged. “Tell me, baby, does a fuck toy like you deserve to cum?”

“O-only if you, fuck , want me to, Tohru,” you nearly purred, and Adachi stiffened even more within you at how unexpectedly easily you responded that time.

“That’s right,” he confirmed, picking up his pace, until each deep, hard thrust rocked ythe bed and the frame groaned in protest.

Your mouth fell open, each moan and whimper and gasp coming out full and unimpeded, raising in pitch each time Adachi’s hips pressed flush against yours and his balls slapped against the backs of your thighs.

“Shit. You sound so fucking hot.” The strain in Adachi’s voice was clear as a bell now, and you knew he was close, even distracted by your own pleasure. “I’m gonna fill up that shameless cunt of yours,” he promised bawdily.

“F-fuck, please, Tohru, I-I want your cum.” You surprised yourself with how filthy the words sounded as they fell past your lips, but your face and body could warm no further with embarrassment.

When his rhythm stuttered, Adachi reached one hand down from your breasts, fumbling but quickly finding your swollen clit and rubbing feverishly as his heavy, panting breaths fanned over the back of your neck. Already so overstimulated, it didn’t take long before the tantalizing stroke of Adachi’s fingers burst the coil of heat in your gut and sent you over the edge.

Your cries peaked so loud, you were sure the neighbors nearby could hear, but with the waves of molten pleasure webbing out from your core, you had no mind to care. No mind to be even more humiliated. Adachi’s fingers didn’t stop as you met your climax, and tears ran down your cheeks again; though you weren’t sure if they had ever really stopped. This time, it was from the touch of his fingers and stroke of his cock, quickly becoming overwhelming and almost unpleasant, despite the way your cunt contracted around him and the volume of your moans.

The eager, constant clench of your cunt around his length seemed to be the last push Adachi needed. A positively feral sound met your ears as Adachi stiffened against you, his cum filling you in thick, hot spurts that made you feel even more full. “Fuck, take it all, you dumb slut,” he growled, voice wild and husky as he pumped into you

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, your voice quiet when compared to the sound of your moans.

At last, Adachi’s hips went still, and his fingers on your clit halted, pulling away and wiping the sticky slick coating them onto your thigh. You panted heavily, eyelids fluttering as you strove to keep them open, and you heard Adachi panting as well. There was a pause where neither of you said anything, bent only on the afterglow and regaining your breath.

“Well, what do you say?” Adachi asked expectantly. “C’mon, speak up. I’m sure even a dumb bitch like you can remember.” Though his words were cruel, his tone had mellowed, sounding more exhausted than harsh or demanding.

“T-thank you, Tohru. Thank you for fucking me… a-and for letting me cum,” you mumbled. Your face had cooled while you recovered, but with those words it was on fire all over again.

Satisfied, Adachi pulled out, and his cum leaked down your thighs in the absence of his cock. He stepped away, and you remained bent over his bed, until finally you thought yourself steady enough to stand straight. You turned to look for your clothes - including those you had discarded before Adachi had arrived back - but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Oh, don’t bother getting dressed, baby. You’re not going anywhere,” he informed you, giving you a light push so that you tumbled back onto his bed.

“B-but I thought— don’t you want me to leave?” you asked in confusion. More often than not, when Adachi was in that sort of mood, he wanted you gone afterwards.

“Not after your little stunt,” he said, shucking off his jacket and hanging it up, before taking off his tie and dress shirt, folding them surprisingly neatly in a stack. “You’re going to stay over and make it up to me again in the morning before work,” Adachi decided, coming back to the bed.

“You didn’t think just that was enough, did you?”

#writing #fanfiction #tohru adachi #persona 4 #ao3 #archive of our own #fic friday #weekly update #nsft #n/s/f/w #mind the tags #asks #not anon #requests #answers

18 notes · View notes

azrielsribbon · 4 years

Text

I have always wanted to talk about the topic of Nesta, and how certain things led up to her clear signs of depression and ptsd, has been talked about a lot lately (as it should).

So after seeing lots of amazing discussions (from many amazing people such as @stardustsroses & @nestaarcher0n) I’ve gathered up my confidence, thought a lot, and here’s my spiel on her current situation and how her upbringing made her into the Nesta we know today. More specifically, the possible impact of her mother.

Nesta has gone through a lot. We cannot expect her to just change her attitude after she went through the events of the war and saw her own father get decapitated. She can’t even go in a bath without having horrid flashbacks for gods sake.

She isn’t going to cope the same way her sisters did. Forcing her to interact with a type of people she has feared her whole life isn’t going to help. Especially putting her in the mountains with a male that is possibly her mate.

Before I start, yes, she’s mooching off of Feyre even if she isn’t living with the Circle, yes she puts her heavy bar payment on their tab but Elain doesn’t have a job either. Let’s not forget Elain Archeron when we talk about Feyre and Nesta. Just because she’s sweet doesn’t mean she isn’t in the wrong.

The mortal worlds have always feared the fae. You know to stay away from the Faerie. Then one day, you and your sister get thrown in some thing called a cauldron and you can’t go back. You become the thing you’ve feared. The people you were once apart of now hate you.

Even before she joined the fae world, she had to gon through her mother’s lectures on how they’d grow up to marry and produce heirs. She thought Tomas Mandray was going to be her fate because of the morals implanted in her by her mother. She thought the only way to life as a woman was to marry, have children and host guests. The way her mother did it.

Yes, she didn’t step up when her mother died or when her father was in debt, but let me remind you Elain didn’t do anything either since everyone wants to forget about the sweet Archeron. I don’t see anything about her being called out??

Nesta is a person who is more action than words. She has shown her guilt, her regret for not helping Feyre by looking for her when Tamlin left with her. She helped out during the war, cut up bandages when she wasn’t asked to. She waited until she got the word that Cassian was ok after he was injuried. She has always been protective of both her sisters. Elain, however, seems to want to stay in the world where she doesn’t have to help others and see through their problems. She’d rather smile through it all then bring attention to the situation or fix it. Both Nesta and Feyre are not like this.

It’s no secret that the firstborn child has the most troubles as they are the guinea pigs (I can unfortunately attest to this), but here is an excerpt, in the narrative of Feyre, describing their late mother.

“My mother. Imperious and cold with her children, joyous and dazzling among the peerage who frequented our former estate, doting on my father—the one person whom she truly loved and respected. But she also had truly loved parties—so much so that she didn’t have time to do anything with me at all save contemplate how my budding abilities to sketch and paint might secure me a future husband. Had she lived long enough to see our wealth crumble, she would have been shattered by it—more so than my father. Perhaps it was a merciful thing that she died”. (Said in the first book of the series.)

Not the average mother, is she? Mrs Archeron does not involve herself with her children much and pays lots of attention to her status, and parties. Feyre mentions how she lectured her on how painting might secure her a husband. So if she spent the very little time she did with her daughters about husbands, we can pretty much develop a scene on how she raises her children and what she thought was “motherhood”.

For context, the age gap between each Archeron sister is around 1 to 2 years. Mrs. Archeron died of typhus when Feyre was 8. This would mean Elain was around 9/10, and Nesta was around 10/11.

If she’s talking to Feyre about husbands at that young age. she’s probably talking to Nesta and Elain about their maidenhoods, their first bleed and even children. She’d probably be expecting of Nesta to prepare herself for a prospective marriage.

She isn’t a dotting mother. She cares to spend her days showing to her friends and is said to care only for her husband.

Parents like this don’t raise children who are secure of themselves. These children have trust issues, attachment problems, overthink everything to the max and believe they will never be enough no matter what. They raise children who will do anything to get their mothers (or fathers) attention and anything they think will please them.

Her daughters (save for Feyre) are taught by the most prestigious tutors in the most prestigious subjects but this doesn’t teach them how to cook, how to sew or how to clean. It gives them the ability to marry rich and be the lady of a house, who has maids.

Mrs. Archeron is a rich and most likely a well-known woman. Her husband is the Prince of Merchants. This could lead her to engrave it in her own daughters that they need to be proper, ladylike, marry rich and to be a wife first, and even give many heirs to their husbands.

This hits the firstborn children harder than anything else. Because they are the experiments. The parents are new to things, they don’t know what is right or wrong. Nesta would’ve been expected to ready herself for any future suitors.

On her deathbed, she makes her youngest daughter promise to do everything to take care of them. Even she knows that Elain and Nesta do not have the characteristics to take control and keep the household smooth. Feyre has shown more leadership and bravery in any situation than both of her sisters and THAT IS OK!! NOT EVERYONE IS A BORN LEADER! THAT IS WHY WE HAVE LEADERS!

So please, please do not attack Nesta for being a raw person. If she was a male this would be completely different. She is trying to recover and cope in her own way.

Now, I’m not saying Nesta is flawless. Because she isn’t. And I’m saying this as a person who feels that if I were to be put in the series, I’d be the Nesta. I think about my attitude and my outside picture everyday. Don’t think Nesta probably doesn’t think about her image each day. Anyone like her, myself included, think about this every minute of the day. And while I do smile through the mental pain everyday like Elain, Nesta is the only character I can relate to in the series. Her walls, her rawness and her ability to detect the lies and the bs are also engraved in me. It’s hard to trust and form life long friendships when your mindset is like this.

Thank you for reading if you have come down here. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart. I do not expect anyone to read after the first sentence.

Stay safe, sound and healthy! 🧡

#nessian #elain archeron #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #acofas #acowar #acotar #acomaf #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #amren #night court #tamlin #spring court #feysand #a court of frost and starlight #illyrian #velaris

245 notes · View notes

xingplytwelve · 4 years

Text

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝟪 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒷𝓈

Author’s Note: It’s quite funny, this prompt came to me while I was doing Muay Thai in the gym. If only I have a hot-ass instructor like zyx! Pairing: Yixing x Reader Genre/ AU: Fluff, Smut, Gym AU Rating/ Warnings: NC-17 Word Count: 4.6k

Epilogue

‘What the fuck, y/n! What have you been doing?!’ Your boss raged as he slammed the deck that you’ve been working on, burning the midnight oil for the past few days. You flinched at the impact of his anger, as you looked at him blankly. You did exactly what he had told you to, but he must have forgotten what he had mentioned to you, for the nth time. You had been in this creative agency for the past two years, and sometimes, you don’t even know how you managed the time you spent here. Your boss, though not the worst boss ever, but definitely not the best either. You were getting sick and tired of how you had to handle his ever-changing moods, and how he always told you one thing but expect the other. You remained silent, while your boss shouted over to your colleague, ‘You do it instead!’ She gave you the ‘he’s being crazy again’ look before acknowledging your boss, and you gave her a faint smile. Luckily for you, you knew exactly how to relief your stress through the art of the 8 limbs. Not to mention, you were also crushing on one of your instructors as well. But that’s only normal right? Who won’t have a crush on zhang yixing, the best-looking muay thai instructor around. The girls in the gym were always talking him, about how he’s the hottest and the most attractive. There were even some who joined the gym because of him. But unlike the rest who were head over heels for him because of his good looks and physique, you were secretly crushing on him because of how he’s always so focused, serious, and attentive to each and every student during classes. The way he helped and cared for the students was what caught your attention, and his looks were really just a bonus. You just couldn’t wait for the day to end, so that you can head to the gym and smash some pads, not forgetting to also take a look at yixing.

‘Hi y/n! How are you?’ Yixing greeted the moment you stepped into the gym, as he walked past you to go for a quick break. You nodded at him as a form of acknowledgement, knowing that he was simply being courteous, greeting the regular students. Though you knew that very well, but you can’t help but to feel heebie-jeebies whenever he talked to you. Not to lie, but the way his training attire showcases his lean body was definitely breath-taking. An hour of drilling cardio ended fast, and you started to packed your things lazily, staring into space at times. You had vent out all your frustrations through the bags earlier on, leaving you with little energy to barely do anything. Very soon, you were one of the few students left in the gym, since it was getting a little late. You then gathered your remaining strength and took your belongings, heading to the changing room to take a quick shower before heading home.

You undressed yourself, and drips of water started falling on your skin. This has got to be one of the best feelings in the world, taking a shower after a workout. As you immersed yourself in the shower, you started to think about what happened in class earlier on. As if intensity of the workout wasn’t enough for your heart, you could have sworn your pulse was racing double its pace when yixing looked into your eyes, his soft skin brushing against yours while correcting your techniques. He was simply oblivious to the effect he had on you, or rather, women in general, or so you thought. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a voice saying, ‘the gym is closing soon!’ You then got out of the shower reluctantly and prepared to head home, when you saw yixing stepping out of the guy’s changing room. Your heart skipped a beat, not expecting to see him still here. He gave you a charming smile, which you returned with a tight lipped one, trying to hide how flustered you were to see him dressed in casual clothes, which made him even better-looking. You left the gym quickly, and were waiting for the lift when someone tapped on your shoulder. Your heart might have stopped beating for a second when you turned around, to realise that yixing was the one who tapped on you. ‘Hey y/n, are you okay?’ He started off, leaving you puzzled at his question. ‘You were really smashing the bags just now, doesn’t your feet hurt?’ He added, pointing at your legs which were still a little reddish from the impact earlier on. You blushed a little at his attentiveness, as you answered while avoiding his gaze, ‘Just a bad day, I guess.’ ‘You wanna talk about it?’ He then asked, taking you by surprise. You were lost for words, not knowing what is the best answer you could give. You wanted to say yes, so badly, to talk to someone about your problems, and also to spend a little bit of time with yixing. But at the same time, you wasn’t sure if he was just being polite, or was he really extending an invitation to you. You didn’t want to sound silly and desperate for him, even though you were in fact, silly and desperate for him. ‘I’m actually heading for a pint of beer before heading home, do you want to come with me?’ He prompted, seeing that you’ve yet to give him a response. Oh my gosh, he’s not just being polite, you thought to yourself as you try to formulate an answer that doesn’t expose your inner thoughts. ‘I would really love to, can I?’ You answered, as you mustered up your courage to look at him, trying to hide a grin. ‘Of course! Would be nice to have some company,’ he said with a bright smile, showing off his sweet dimples.

‘You know, you’re the type of girl that I won’t expect to see in the gym,’ yixing said, as he took a sip of his beer, leaving some of it’s foam on his lips, his seemingly tasty lips. You can’t help but to stare at them, after which letting a chuckle escaped. ‘I’m sorry, what do you mean?’ You then asked, as you looked at the slightly embarrassed yixing who was wiping his mouth with a napkin. ‘I’m not going to tell you after you laughed at me,’ he responded, as his brows drew together to form a tiny frown. ‘So, what happened?’ He asked, shifting his attention to you. You wasn’t sure how did you managed to feel more at ease with his presence now, perhaps it was that he had abandoned the context of a instructor-student relationship, and the fact that you guys were just chilling at a bar like normal friends, so you started sharing more about yourself with him. You told him how your day went, and how you anticipated to hit the gym everyday just so you can get rid of your stress, leaving out the part where you actually looked forward to seeing him. Time flew past and it was getting pretty late, as yixing took a look at his watch and exclaimed, ‘I’m sorry y/n, I didn’t know it was this late already! Is your boyfriend coming to pick you up? It’s dangerous for you to go back by yourself at this hour.’ You shook your head, answering, ‘It’s fine, yixing. I didn’t realised the time too. And don’t worry, I can go back on my own, I don’t have a boyfriend.’ A familiar expression soon came into your sight, when he asked while frowning, ‘what? Why?’ Why? You knew the answer to his question, but simply shrugged it off. How could you tell him that you’ve been single because you were having a crush on him? Though you did not answer yixing’s question, he was actually pleased with it. He just had to ask, to make sure, before he make any more moves. He stood up, and yanked you off your seat by tugging your wrists. Not knowing how to response yet again, the most you could manage was a, ‘Where are we going?’ Yixing simply ignored your question, till he reached his destination. You guys were at a carpark near the gym, in front of a bike. ‘I’m sending you home, silly,’ was his delayed answer to your question. ‘You don’t have too, really…’ you mumbled, but yixing, as usual, simply disregard whatever you were saying, as he put on his extra helmet for you. ‘Oh, I see that you’re scared of riding bikes,’ he teased, as he gently adjusted the helmet to ensure that it fits you, then clipping the sides together. ‘I’m not, ok!’ Your answer came in a rush. You were always a sucker for such goads, and yixing knew exactly that. He could tell from the way you were when you had your gloves on in the gym. A small smirk appeared on his face, barely noticeable. He hop onto his bike and started the engine, while you carefully got on, placing your hands underneath the seat.

He laughed at your actions, without you knowing since you could only see his back view. But he was determined to make your hands leave the seat, and he knew exactly how to do that. He started off slow, but soon speed up when it was on the expressways, making you tugged onto the hems of his leather jacket. You could feel your heart thumping almost out of your ribcage, at how fast he was going, instantly making you regret your answer earlier. Maybe you should have admitted that you were just a teeny weeny afraid of riding bikes. As he made a sharp drift once the roads hits a turn, you hugged his waist tightly, fearing that you might just fall off the bike if you did not do so. ‘You should have done this earlier on,’ yixing shouted, his sentence disappearing into the strong wind that was blowing against y’all. Fear soon disappeared, since you felt safer holding onto him, and you were starting to enjoy the ride back. He soon arrived at your place, and helped you to take off your helmet once you got down from his bike. He smiled, showing you his lovely dimples as he patted your head, before bidding goodbye and speeding off again. You stay put, looking at him before he completely disappear within your sight, before finally heading back home. You threw yourself down onto the couch, and replayed every single part of the night you spent with yixing in your mind. Not only did you had a proper, and in fact, deep conversation with your crush over a beer, he had also sent you home, and you had also held onto his waist so tightly. Not forgetting that you had also shamelessly exchanged numbers with him earlier on, as you took out your phone and contemplate if you should drop him a text. But what are you going to say? You started crafting your message, but edited it repeatedly over and over again. You just couldn’t think of a way to express yourself without sounding that you were overly infatuated with him. Just as you were about to give up, a notification popped up.

Yixing Z

Don’t worry about me (if you are, even). I just reached home

You stared into your phone unbelievably, and was consumed by your own thoughts before another message appeared.

Yixing Z

I’m guessing you’re asleep already?

It brought you back to your senses as you quickly typed away, and finally pressing send on your carefully crafted reply, hoping that you won’t regret it.

Y/N

I’m still awake, haha. Thank you for the night, I had a really great time just now. And thank you for sending me back too!

Yixing Z

You’re very welcome ;)

What does that wink even mean, you wondered as you looked at his reply. You soon head to bed, and giggled inevitably when yixing flashes in your mind again. The bad day at work turned into a great one after all, you thought, and soon drifted into deep slumber.

Since then, you had undoubtedly gotten closer to yixing, and it was getting pretty obvious among the people in the gym. He was always disturbing you during classes, and you knew he was seldom like this to other students. You didn’t know exactly how he felt towards you, but you had always assumed it to a normal friendship that had blossomed by chance. Even so, you felt contented, and happy, that your crush had somehow became a part of your life, not only as your crush, but as a friend. This whole twist of fate was simply, bittersweet.

You had ended work especially late this day, and since you had already brought your training stuffs out, you figured that you should probably go for the last class, even though you were pretty exhausted from the crap that you were getting from your boss. It was a rather quiet day in the gym, there were barely any students when you stepped in. Typically, there would still be a few students who would still be here, but today, you were the only student taking the last class before the gym closes. Yixing, who had just woken up from his nap, walked out of the resting room reluctantly, but a bright smile soon appeared on his face at the sight of you. ‘Ended work late?’ He asked, as he walked towards you and patted your head gently. You nodded, as you said coyly, ‘I’m so tired, let me off today ok?’ Yixing looked at you in surprise, before asking, ‘How about some light sparring today?’ You returned him with a pout, hesitant about his suggestion before finally agreeing to it since it was a good chance for you to apply the techniques that you’ve learnt during classes. ‘Great! We can take all the time in the world, I’m also the one closing the gym today,’ he added. What you didn’t know was that he actually had some other plans in mind to make full use of the empty gym, though you were pretty certain that you saw a tiny smirk escaping his lips when he ended off his sentence.

You were sure that you were going to get owned by yixing the moment you guys started sparring. You found it hard to focus on the swift movements of his body, when all you could see was the entire universe beneath those beautiful eyes. Yixing noticed that, which he then questioned, ‘Are you okay, y/n? You’re not focusing that well.’ You nodded sheepishly, as you snapped out of your thoughts. You were getting more and more fed up as the minutes passed, no matter what you threw, be it a jab, a hook, or a roundhouse kick, yixing seemed to have predicted everything, in which he dodged all of your attacks perfectly. You, on the other hand, were unable to foresee what he was going to throw. Though he was very soft in his attacks, the fact that you wasn’t able to get a successful hit was beyond frustrating. He then threw a jab that you didn’t managed to dodge, causing his gloves to brush against your cheeks lightly which made you flinched a little. ‘Oh my gosh I’m so sorry y/n, are you alright? That must have hurt,’ he apologised, after which taking off his gloves and placed his hands on your cheeks gently, examining if you’ve been hurt by him. ‘It’s nothing, you didn’t really hit me. I’m alright!’ you replied. Your cheeks were getting heated up, and it wasn’t from the jab, but from the way he was caressing your face. In that instant, all your frustrations were gone and you actually regretted avoiding some of his attacks earlier on, if you had known that he would have done this. That was how much you were craving for his touch. ‘This will lessen the pain ok,’ he said as he stared into your eyes, before giving you a soft peck on your cheeks quickly. Your blood were streaming with hormones by his actions, your pulse racing, as your cheeks gave out how flustered you were with shades of pink. Yixing chortled at his sight, making you extra embarrassed, while your mind went into fight-or-flight mode, in which you fled. You ran off to the changing room, and looking at your reflection made you want to vanish into thin air immediately. Your body had totally given you away on how you’ve felt towards yixing, despite trying to hide it all these while. You took off your gloves and splashed a few drops of cold water on your face, hoping that it’ll ease the blush, still evident on your cheeks. Just then, you heard a knock on the changing room’s door, and yixing’ voice. ‘I’m coming in,’ was what you heard. You remained still nervously, as yixing walked towards you. He took a few steps closer, while you took the same number of steps back, until you found yourself up against the wall of one of the shower cubicles. Great, you don’t even have anywhere to flee off to right now. Yixing had one of his hands up against the wall, while the other one on your chin, raising it up so that you’ll stop avoiding his gaze. ‘y/n ah, you’re so oblivious, do you know that?’ He started off. What does he mean by that? You thought he was the one who had zero idea of the effect he had on women. ‘I know there are many girls who were nuts over me, I just didn’t care. Because I liked you,’ he whispered, looking at you fondly. You almost couldn’t believed your ears, it was as though you were living in a fairytale, whereby the prince that the princess loved so much, loved her back too.

Before you had the chance to even said anything, yixing had playfully lifted the lever right next to him, and warm water was soon pouring on the both of you. You shut your eyes at the impact of the water droplets, and felt yixing’s lips crashing on yours. You were now tasting his lips that was like honey, and that answers your question of how those lips would have tasted like, which had probably came across your mind countless times. The kiss was gentle and affectionate, and you found yourself getting lost in it while drips of water continued to soak the two of you. You opened your eyes the moment he parted your lips, and the sight in front of you was simply mesmerising. His rash guard, already tight-fitting, was now damped thoroughly, allowing you to see how defined his body was. Noticing that you had your eyes fixated on his body, yixing then said, ‘you’re quite a sight yourself too.’ He meant what he said, you were just as soaked as he was, and your top had sank into your skin, allowing the outline of your sports bra to be seen. You could tell that he was extremely pleased with what he was looking at. He then leaned in, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you again. You were expecting him to go soft like earlier on, but instead, he was demanding and harsh. He was literally tasting your lips, and was taking over your mouth like it was his property. You eventually gave in and returned his kisses, releasing soft whimpers along the way. As the two of you broke away, you saw a smirk on yixing’s face. He already had his hands on the curves of your waist, and his touch had set your hormones on fire. His sneaky hands were slowly creeping up to your breasts, followed by him asking, ‘May I, princess?’ You wanted to scream yes, so damn badly. You wanted him to continue whatever he was doing, leave traces of himself all over your body, and to have him inside you so bad. But the way he called you princess so delicately made you weak, causing you to only manage a nod. ‘I swear, I’ll make you feel good princess. So good, that you’ll forget everything else but me,’ he added seductively.

You could already feel your knees weakening merely by his dirty talks, and you just couldn’t wait for yixing to take you however he wanted to. You had your hands tugging onto his rash guard, which you then helped him to remove the moment he ended his sentence. His body was simply a splendid result of his consistent workouts, his abs were so well-defined, and not forgetting his deep V lines. ‘You wanna touch it?’ Yixing asked, extremely satisfied with the way you were thirsting for him. ‘Yes… yes yixing,’ you answered softly, as you reached out for them, but your hands were gently slapped away by him. ‘You have to please me first. Take off all your clothes, now’ yixing ordered. The way yixing switched between his traits of a complete gentleman and a dominant alpha was driving you fucking insane, and you did whatever you were told immediately. ‘Good girl,’ yixing said, as he checked your naked state out, before grabbing onto your hands and placing them on his V lines, as he promised. ‘Yixing, please… take me already,’ you begged, as you bit your lips in desperation. Yixing sneered at how helpless you were, before pressing his body against yours, making sure that you felt his hardening cock, to let you know how much he wanted you, before showering you with sloppy kisses all over. You started moving your hands down his hips, when yixing whispered, his face only inches apart from yours, ‘you have the honour, princess.’ You then helped him to remove his satin shorts, pulling them down entirely with his underwear, as you watched his thick cock being released. ‘How will you like to be taken?’ Yixing asked, as he started nibbling your damp skin, his rock-hard dick rubbing against your entrance. Just as you were enjoying that, he started to suck on your nipple gently, in which you returned with a moan. You’ve yet to answer yixing’s question, which got him to pinch your other nipple that he was playing with with his fingers. You whined, as you ran your fingers through his wet hair when yixing said, ‘I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.’ ‘However you want, yixing,’ you answered breathlessly.

Hearing that, yixing then shoved himself into you immediately without wasting much time, causing you to mewl at the impact of his length. ‘Trust me ok?’ Yixing said softly, as he gave you a light peck on your lips, before carrying you up by the underside of your thighs. You grabbed onto him naturally, and then swing your arms around him so he could have a better grip, in the position that he wants to fuck you in. Yixing then started thrusting inside you slow and gentle, making sure that you’re comfortable. Having his cock inside of you had became very much pleasurable as your clit soon got used to him. ‘Mm yixing…Keep going mm,’ you moaned right beside his ear, which you then hid your face in his neck. Yixing grinned, as he started to intensify his pace by rocking you upwards and down with his masculine arms. Your hands were starting to run wild on his bare back, your nails leaving markings of yourself and your mouth, biting into whatever was available uncontrollably. Yixing groaned as you bit into his flesh, but he clearly enjoying it. He’ll gladly take in anything, as long as it’s from his little princess. Your walls were clenching onto his dick, as you started begging yixing to go even harder. It was exactly what he had been waiting for, to fuck you rough straight up against the wall. He smirked, as he teased, ‘Is that what you want?’ You had your face up to look at him, as you nodded excessively. Yixing then gave you a heated and possessive kiss, before placing you down gently and said, ‘turn around please, princess.’ He had no idea how aroused you get all over again whenever he calls you that, as you obeyed obediently. Yixing had his arm over your stomach, preparing you for the impact as he penetrated into you in one powerful stroke. You squealed from his thrust, as you held onto his arm, your grip tightening as he continued thrusting inside you hard from behind. His name was escaping louder and louder from your lips as you grew closer to your orgasm, and had your other hand up pressing against the wall. ‘YIXING,’ you screamed in pleasure the moment you felt tingling sensations all over your body, and yixing wasn’t too far behind as well. He went even faster, while you were still trying to catch your breath from your high, the sound of his hips slapping against your butt cheeks were nearly as loud the splashes of water that hit the floor. ‘Ahh,’ yixing moaned, and you felt him filling up your insides with his thick, hot cum. He rested his chin on your shoulders for a few seconds, hands running up and down your curves while the two of you overcome your euphoric state, before planting a soft kiss on your nape as he took a few steps back. He took your hand, turning you around so that you were facing him. Tucking your damped hair back so that he could see the whole of your face, yixing then explained, ‘A hot girl like you in a martial arts gym full of boys, I’m a lucky one, aren’t I.’

‘Oh, so that was what you meant back then,’ you answered, as you tried to pinch his cheeks but had your hands slipped off from his wet skin. Yixing chuckled, as he pressed on the shampoo dispenser, and started applying them on you. You were extremely sweeten by his gesture, and noticing that, yixing then said, ‘when I call you princess, I really meant it, ok. It’s not a this only happens during sex kinda thing. Unless you don’t want to be mine?’ You looked at him in disbelief, how could this man even had thoughts like this going through his mind when he had just fucked the hell out of you. ‘Haven’t you just had me already?’ You answered, as you started poking his chest with your forefinger shyly. ‘I want to hear it coming from you,’ yixing said in a firm tone, as he tugged onto your wrist. He had made you giggled like a little girl, as you added, ‘I’m yours, yixing, all yours.’ ‘That’s more like it,’ yixing answered in delight, placing his forehead on yours as he gave you a peck on the tip of your nose. As you attempted to give him a hug, the slippery wet floor had given you the chance to fall into his arms. If he haven’t caught you perfectly, you probably would have been kissing the floor then. ‘Wow, you’re so eager to be mine huh?’ Yixing laughed, holding onto your arms to prevent you from slipping again, as you simply hid your face in his chest in embarrassment. ‘You’re hella cute when you’re shy,’ yixing confessed, before adding, ‘stay over at my place tonight ok?’ You nodded, and you could have sworn hearing yixing said, ‘maybe we could have another go at it, clean and dry this time.’

#exo fanfics #exosnet #exowritersnet #yixing fluff #yixing smut #yixing x reader #yixing fanfiction #yixing scenario #yixing #zhang yixing #exo fluff #exo smut #layonyixing writes

65 notes · View notes

suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

** Writing Challenge **

I know, I know, my next one isn’t quite wrapped up yet, buttttt this idea came to me when my cousin and I were taking a walk down a ridiculous part of Memory Lane and I got excited. I’m guessing this has been done before at some point -- that’s not stopping me from presenting to you:

I love fluff. And I wanna see more of it!

Below the cut you will find some prompts that, in the context of Twilight, are absolutely cringe-worthy. My challenge to you is to take that prompt and make it something we can love.

Disclaimer: I’m not Twilight-shaming ANYONE. I literally sat and watched all of Eclipse and now want to watch both Breaking Dawns. It’s more about sentiment, and the occasional girly giggle for me, but ... yeah. No judgement here, friends.

Guidelines, prompts, and tags are below the cut! (Yes, I copied and tweaked from my last writing challenge. I’m being efficient, thank you! :P )

Please read all of the information carefully!

Rules, Guidelines, Important Dates:

Sign-Ups start when this post is live and will go through to December 30, 2020. I will accept two people for each prompt, one prompt per author.

Please send your sign-ups to my ask box so they’re easier to keep track of. I will answer them privately so I’m not flooding anyone’s dash!

In your ask, please include your preferred prompt and a backup option, as well as your pairing (so I don’t take the same pairing for the same prompt). Also, please let me know if you’ll be posting from a URL other than one you’re asking from.

To be included in the challenge masterlist, please post your fic (or the first part, if it’s a series) by Decemeber 31, 2020.

Please include an author’s note tagging me and mentioning the challenge in your fic post; include #BetterThanTwilightWC in the first five tags. If the tag doesn’t work, you may DM the link to me, also. If you decide to write a series, please tag me in the masterlist.

Please give me up to 48 hours to read your fic before checking if I have seen it. If I have not liked it after 48 hours, please DO check. (You know, since we’re all aware of how unreliable tumblr is. And how unreliable my mind can be. Yikes.)

The challenge masterlist will be posted between January 1 and January 4, 2020.

There are no word count limits, but please use the Keep Reading feature if your story goes beyond 500 words. Additionally, if your fic goes beyond 5000 words, please consider splitting it into multiple parts. This is not a requirement, only something to think about.

Yes, this is a FLUFF challenge, so you MUST have fluff as your main genre. You’re more than welcome to include other genres, but you MUST have a happy and/or hopeful ending.

You’re welcome to think outside of the box! Just because I’m talking Twilight and love stories, doesn’t mean there has to be romance! Give me amazing friendships or strong family bonds or self-love. Or romance! Whatever you’d like.

You're welcome to change pronouns in the prompt as necessary! Heck, I tweaked a few of ‘em so they’re not Twilight-specific.

For personal reasons, I do not read and will not accept into the challenge (which means I will not reblog or add to the masterlist) stories that include: non-con/dub-con, underage sex, adult-child romantic/sexual relationships, spouse-bashing, child abuse – I could go on, but I think you get the idea. If you’re not sure about something, I’m always happy to answer questions!

Bring on the ships, OC’s, reader pairings – I’m trying to be more open-minded as of late, but I can’t promise that I will read everything. Again, for personal reasons. But I will reblog everything!

Characters and RPFs from Marvel/MCU are both welcome.

If you need an extension or need to drop out, please know that I am extremely flexible when it comes to that deadline/due date. In the words of Captain Barbosa, “It’s really more of a guideline.” Just shoot me an ask or a message and we’ll work something out, no worries!

Prompts:

1. “I have always loved you, and I will always love you.” 2. “The clouds I can handle. But I can’t fight with an eclipse.” 3. “I know what you are.” 4. “You held out your hand and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing.” 5. “You have a connection with her that I’ll never understand.” 6. “I’m glad she has you.” 7. “It will be like I never existed. I promise.” 8. “I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to help people. Brings me happiness.” 9. “That will take a while to get used to.” “We have a while.” 10. “What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” 11. “I’d rather hear your theories.” 12. (sarcastically) “Super. That makes me really happy.” 13. “You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.” 14. “Maybe I shouldn’t be dating such an old man. It’s gross. I should be thoroughly repulsed.” 15. “It’s an extraordinary thing to meet someone who you can bare your soul to and they’ll accept you for what you are.” 16. “I’ve been waiting for what seems like a very long time to get beyond what I am.” 17. “I feel like I can finally begin.” 18. “He’s totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently nobody here is good enough for him.” 19. “He did say I couldn’t step inside the door. I came in through the window.” 20. “I know things. Like how to hunt somebody to the ends of the earth. And I know how to use a gun.” 21. “Now I’m afraid.” “Good.” 22. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m only afraid of losing you.” 23. “About three things I was absolutely positive ...” 24. “You’re so stubborn.” 25. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” 26. “I can’t even think about someone hurting you.” 27. “The only thing that can hurt me is you, and I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.” 28. “Don’t antagonize her. She’s the strongest one in the house.” 29. “All right. That’s enough experimenting for one day.” 30. “It never made sense for you to love me.” 31. “I wish there had been someone to vote no for me.” 32. “It’s just a little baby.” 33. “How strongly are you opposed to grand theft auto?” 34. “I’m not missing another fight!” 35. “No one can hide like me.” 36. “If I asked you to stay in the car, would you?” 37. “I have one condition, if you want me to do it myself.” 38. “I had an adrenaline rush. It’s very common. You can Google it.” 39. “How did you get in here?” “The window.” 40. “I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” 41. “You should put your seatbelt on.” 42. “Can you talk about something else? Distract me so I won’t turn around.” 43. “I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.” 44. “After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?” 45. “Maybe that’s why they kicked me out.” 46. “All of my best nights have happened since I met you.” 47. “You know everybody’s staring?” “Not that guy ... no, he just looked.” 48. “She wishes she was that awesome.” 49. “Does he visit often?” “Yeah, all the time.” 50. “Lie ... Lie better.” 51. “I’m Switzerland.” 52. “That should have been our first kiss.” 53. “Would you like to hear my story? It doesn’t have a happy ending -- but which of ours does?” 54. “Another party?” “It’ll be fun.” “Yeah. That’s what you said last time.” 55. “You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. I will always be yours.” 56. “The way he watches you. It’s like he’s willing to leap in front of you and take a bullet or something.” 57. “Kill me! Not him!” 58. “Stay.” “Give me one good reason.” 59. “Yeah, it’s and off day when I don’t get somebody telling me how edible I smell.” 60. “Damn it! You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.” 61. “If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not afraid of it.” 62. “Do I dazzle you?” 63. “I’m tired of trying to stay away from you.” 64. “Bring on the shackles, I’m your prisoner.” 65. “You are my life now.” 66. “And then we continued blissfully into this small, perfect piece of our forever.” 67. “Nobody’s ever loved someone as much as I love you.” 68. “I don’t know what happened.” “You love him.” 69. “All of sudden it’s not gravity holding you to the planet, it’s her. Nothing else matters. You would do anything, be anything for her.” 70. “You really love her?” 71. “I don’t see the whole point of the rest of the world without her.” 72. “Then I found a promising site ... I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicked closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally, the screen finished -- simple, white background with black text; academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the homepage:” 73. “I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” 74. “I’ll be fighting for her, too, and I’ll be fighting twice as hard as you will.” 75. “It’s always been him.” 76. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” 77. “They’re coming for her.” “They’re not gonna touch her.” 78. “Doesn’t he own a shirt?” 79. “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that we’re enemies and that you’re also trying to steal away the reason for my existence, I might actually like you.” 80. “You have disappeared. Like everything else.” 81. “The absence of him is everywhere I look.” 82. “I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.” 83. “Your number was up the first time I met you.” 84. “We all like to drive fast.” 85. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.” 86. “I’ve never given much thought to how I’d die, but dying in the place of someone I love seems like a good way to go.” 87. “Don’t tempt me too far. My patience isn’t that perfect.” 88. “His tone questions my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfect delivered line by a skilled actor.” 89. “What’s he mad about?” 90. “No measure of time with you will ever be enough.” 91. “I promise to love you forever, every single day of forever.” 92. “We’re gonna be great friends!” 93. “If I had my way, I would spend the majority of my time kissing him.” 94. “Until your heart stops beating.” 95. “I touched the cool miracle of his ski, and I was home.” 96. “Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.” 97. “This isn’t the time to make hard and fast decisions. This is the time to make mistakes.” 98. “Leave it to you ... you have to start hanging out with the first weirdos you can find.” 99. “I love him much more than I should, and yet still nowhere near enough.” 100. “I refuse to be affected by territorial disputes.”

Tags for possible interest/signal boosting (if you’re so inclined):

@captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @shield-agent78 @jennmurawski13 @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too

#betterthantwilightwc #twilight writing challenge #prompt list #queue and i remember budapest very differently

43 notes · View notes

beca-mitchell · 4 years

Note

Can you give us another sneak peek of the mafia!au 🥺

here’s 3k words of it

i’m too lazy to upload to AO3 because it’s still incomplete but i might later. I’m sorry that it’s really bad and incomplete. I’ve just been too tired to really look at this AU for now.

for context: beca is the daughter of a crime lord and chloe is a university student. they meet by chance on a night out and fall in love.

Warning for smut.

* * * * *

You’re the fear, I don’t careCause I’ve never been so highFollow me through the darkLet me take you past the satellitesYou can see the world you brought to life

* * * * *

Oddly, the fear that rushes through Beca as she faces the plain wooden door is not because of the lingering adrenaline from just under an hour ago, facing down the barrel of a gun, but rather, what she knows lies behind the door.

Who she knows is behind the door.

She raises her hand to knock, wincing when her sore shoulder makes itself ever known once more. It is a reminder of being pinned against the floor wherein she had seen a brief segment of her life flash before her eyes. It isn’t necessarily a new occurrence, but these days—

Beca inhales deeply, steadying herself.

These days, Beca feels like there is so much more at stake.

(And, the pressing matter of Chloe not even fully knowing her entire history—all the reasons why Beca hates herself; why Beca hates that this is even her life at all—still lingers over Beca like an impenetrable cloud.)

She knocks, finally and keeps her eyes trained straight ahead, knowing that the wrath she’ll face from Chloe is likely going to be the most frightening thing she experiences tonight, but she kind of hopes it’s quick because all she wants is a warm shower and Chloe’s arms around her.

Chloe pulls open the door after a few moments—moments that stretch like eons for Beca—and it takes a few moments while Chloe rubs the sleep out of one of her eyes before peering at Beca in confusion.

“Beca?” she questions, voice rattling with tiredness. Beca realizes with a pang that she likely woke Chloe up unnecessarily. The reminder that the apartment complex’s hallway remains eerily empty and quiet is also an indicator that it is a lot later than Beca had expected.

“I—” Beca swallows when she feels the strangest tightness in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispers instead, forgetting what she had even intended to say. Likely something stupidly suave and not-at-all appropriate for the gravity of the situation at hand. She realizes how much she wants to step into Chloe’s arms, but something holds her back, like she recognizes that she is exceptionally tainted and unclean. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, but she just needs Chloe to—she needs Chloe to—

“C’mere,” Chloe rasps, pulling her securely into her arms when she takes in Beca’s rattled state. She pulls a little harder than Beca would like, but Beca reminds herself that Chloe doesn’t know of the aches and bruises littering her body. She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s fine, she reminds herself.

She’s alive and she came back to Chloe just like she promised.

Chloe’s heart pounds as she holds Beca, unable to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. Beca had mentioned that she needed to do some business-related things and that vague descriptor had been enough for Chloe despite all the questions she wanted to ask. The fear and curiosity still war with each other constantly in Chloe’s heart ever since learning of what Beca really did for a living.

All the demons in her closet.

All the horrors in her sleep.

Chloe wonders if she can pull some of that pain from Beca. If she can seep some of it away, somehow. She squeezes Beca a little tighter, sighing into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck as she does so. It is then that Beca stiffens and her back tenses uncomfortably, but she relaxes quickly enough. Chloe catches it however and pulls back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“What was that about?” she asks, pulling Beca further into her apartment. She debates whether to draw Beca towards the bathroom or towards her bedroom. Before she can really decide, Chloe notices the way Beca’s hand comes up to her shoulder almost unconsciously as her eyes lift up to Chloe’s in a guilty manner. Chloe’s small apartment seems even smaller as Beca looks up at her with nervous, anxious eyes. Incredibly even then, the bedroom, where she so desperately wants to cuddle with Beca now more than ever, feels too far away. “Are you hurt?” Chloe asks, reaching forward to cup Beca’s cheeks as gently as she can. “Did you hurt yourself? Did somebody—” the thought rattles her “—did somebody hurt you?”

Beca attempts a smile, but it’s weak. “I didn’t hurt myself…” she trails off, pretty much confirming every last one of Chloe’s fears.

(Since Beca’s big “reveal” just under two weeks ago, Chloe had spent many sleepless nights staring at her ceiling while she remained tortured by her own imagination.

It was difficult reconciling the fact that the woman she had come to develop very real feelings for in such a short period of time was also susceptible to the very awful reality of her own line of “work”—a life that she had been forced into more than a life that she had chosen.

It was heartbreaking more than it was terrifying, but the fear played a factor regardless.)

Chloe desperately wants to roll her eyes, but she refuses to take her eyes off Beca’s face. “Beca, you promised,” she whispers, her heart clenching with renewed pain and fear. “Is it bad?” She reaches up to run her fingers through Beca’s hair. She smiles, ever so slightly, at the very subtle way Beca leans into her touch. “Show me,” she urges. “I can help.”

“I don’t…are you sure?” Beca asks, looking like she’s afraid of something. Probably Chloe running away. “I don’t want you to be like…grossed out.”

Chloe would laugh at Beca’s ever-present hard-headedness if she weren’t concerned at the possibility of Beca legitimately needing some kind of urgent care.

“I’m not going anywhere…no matter how reckless you are,” Chloe declares. She draws back, placing her hands on her hips and stares hard at Beca, eyes searching across Beca’s face. Her stance doesn’t last long and Chloe deflates. “You promised, Bec. You weren’t going to do…that.”

“It…it got out of control,” Beca admits, thinking about the flash of fury that had slid across her father’s business contact’s face before her back had thudded hard against the ground. “But it’s not bad, I promise,” she assures quickly when Chloe’s eyes flash with emotion once more. A mix of anger and concern. “I just…hurt my shoulder and back really badly. And,” she continues, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket, showing Chloe her bruised wrist. “Just this.”

“I’m so mad at you,” Chloe whispers. She too is cognizant of how late it is—how thin the apartment walls are. Not for the first time, she wishes that she lived in a more upscale place—somewhere to call her own. Still, her actions contradict her words as she lifts Beca’s hand gently to press a kiss against her palm. “If you can promise not to injure yourself anymore, we can go take a shower.”

Beca’s heartbeat speeds up as she tries not to think immediately of what she so desperately wants to do with Chloe in the shower, still something they haven’t done together, but she’s still kind of unsure if she’s on the hook still or if she’s allowed to think about having sex with her girlfriend. Whether Chloe sees anything particularly telling in her eyes she does not make it known and instead dips her head to capture Beca’s lips in a soft kiss.

Beca pushes into Chloe immediately, responding in kind. She trembles at how tender Chloe’s lips are—how gentle Chloe is in the way her hand grips her waist, holding her firmly and securely against her body. Beca sighs, tilting her head to properly capture Chloe’s lower lip between her own and stepping further into Chloe’s space.

“I would love that, Chlo.”

* * * * *

“Don’t be scared,” Beca urges, tracing Chloe’s cheek with her nose. She parts her lips, dipping her head to kiss along Chloe’s jaw and neck.

Chloe shudders. “I am,” Chloe murmurs, grasping Beca’s jaw gently before tilting her head up for another kiss. “Only of losing you, though.”

Beca’s entire body warms—even more than it had been from standing under the warm shower spray. The heat is a result of the passion and desperation in Chloe’s voice. Beca has never been wanted quite so earnestly and honestly like this. She had never dared to dream of it either, especially

“Please,” Beca pleads. All she wants is to feel close to her girlfriend right now. “Can we…I just need to feel you, Chlo…” She wants nothing more than to be reduced to just feeling Chloe’s body against her—she wants to feel nothing except the sensation of Chloe breaking her and tasting her. She wants to forget in a way that only Chloe knows how.

Chloe muffles the almost desperate whimper that escapes Beca’s mouth by covering her lips with her own. The previous tenderness, while still present, is no longer at the forefront of Chloe’s kiss. Instead, Beca feels, with a surge of arousal, the insistent probing of Chloe’s tongue into her mouth and the warmth of Chloe’s wet body against her own. They’re entirely wasting water at this point, but it’s late and Beca intends on making full use of her private bathroom.

Chloe tears her mouth away eventually, breathing heavily against Beca’s mouth and chin as she gazes at Beca from beneath long eyelashes, water dripping off their ends. Beca trembles at the sight of Chloe’s excessively blue eyes, more gorgeous than ever. With her eyes still trained on Beca, Chloe begins to descend, lips trailing a blazing path down Beca’s neck, her collarbone, between her breasts—Beca whines unexpectedly when Chloe teasingly skips her aching nipples—then down the plane of her stomach before slowly parting Beca’s legs.

“Can you…” Chloe trails two fingers up the inside of Beca’s thigh. “Up?” she asks, breath hot and heavy against Beca’s skin. Beca nods, lifting her leg up over Chloe’s shoulder while she reaches down to sweep Chloe’s messy, wet hair away from her face. “So good,” Chloe murmurs, kissing the soft skin of Beca’s inner thigh closest to her. Her lips trail closer to Beca’s center, where she can see Beca throbs and wants for Chloe the most. The visual of Beca’s wanting, open center—all for Chloe—sends the headiest rush of arousal through Chloe, a visceral want that she attempts to alleviate by pressing her own thighs together. Pushing forward, she leans in for a soft, intimate kiss to Beca’s wet folds, committed to her show of affection and care for the woman pinned to the wall.l

Beca tilts her head back against the panes of the individual shower stall, groaning quietly when Chloe’s tongue flicks sharply against her clit. The aches in her shoulder and all along her back are all but forgotten as Chloe begins to thoroughly slice her tongue in and around her cunt, slowly building Beca further up from where she was before.

Chloe fucks her with a moderate amount of determination and excessive amount of precision. The firm grip she has on Beca’s thigh and the way her forearm is pressed across her lower abdomen as she tilts her head every which way to continue her ministrations between Beca’s leg—all of it feels especially excessive tonight as Beca rests against the wall, at Chloe’s mercy.

She slackens her grip in Chloe’s hair, groaning when Chloe begins to suck gently on her clit. The gentle pressure and warmth of Chloe’s lips and tongue and her mouth only make her clit throb more with the extra attention on it. She wants to feel all of Chloe, however—wants Chloe to possess her and make her forget.

She wants nothing but Chloe all around her and in her, filling her up literally and figuratively until her emotions well up and spill over, like all the desire, love, and affection she has for the woman down on her knees in front of her. Opening her eyes hazily, she tilts her head back down with a heaving gasp and a quick flex of her fingers in Chloe’s hair to get her attention. Chloe slows her kisses and pulls back, face glistening with water.

“Are you okay?” Chloe rasps thickly. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Beca murmurs quickly. “No, not at all. I just—” her breath catches in her chest as Chloe’s fingers trail a quick, succinct path between her legs where her fingers gently begin pushing through Beca’s folds. “Yes,” she moans out, unable to keep her leg up on Chloe’s shoulder any longer. Chloe adapts quickly and stands with shocking swiftness so that she is holding Beca’s body up against the wall with her own. With her free hand, she hikes Beca’s leg up around her hip, eyes trained intently on Beca’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“But you’d tell me if I hurt you, right?” Chloe asks quickly, puffing out quick breaths against Beca’s neck as she begins a slow, steady rhythm with her fingers. Beca’s eyes nearly cross as she nods weakly. Forgetting about the pain in her shoulder, she lifts both arms to wrap around the back of Chloe’s neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss.

The only way you could hurt me is by leaving.

The reality of Chloe one day leaving—by choice or otherwise—makes Beca’s eyes fly open. Her breathing stutters and she gasps along with Chloe’s thrusts. She grips tighter, nails scrabbling against the skin on Chloe’s back as she tries to prolong her impending orgasm. Chloe’s breathing is laboured against her ear and Beca’s sensitive hearing picks up the minuscule whines that Chloe emits every now and then, audible even over the sound of rushing water. She closes her eyes, reaching for whatever bit of skin she finds available, and finally sinks her teeth gently against Chloe’s shoulder to muffle the sharp cry that she knows will escape as she comes hard around Chloe’s fingers. She clenches tight, like her body is already desperate to keep Chloe inside her and pressed against her. She aches terribly, in both a pleasurable and painful way, but all of it is so, so worth it.

Chloe is pressing slow kisses against the side of her head and along her shoulder as she comes down slowly from her high. As Chloe moves to pull her fingers out, Beca shakes her head once before lifting her gaze to Chloe’s. “Stay,” she implores. “Just a bit longer.”

Chloe’s brow furrows before her expression softens and she leans in to nuzzle her nose against Beca’s before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Please don’t leave me, Beca thinks, but she does not say it aloud. She trembles at the weight on her shoulders, nestling closer to the one person who could very much break her altogether in a million different ways.

* * * * *

Back in Chloe’s room, Chloe closes the door, eyes trained intently on Beca’s movements as she settles back in Chloe’s bed comfortably. Chloe’s bed is significantly smaller than Beca’s bed at her father’s house—perhaps it might even be considered tiny—but Beca isn’t complaining as she settles under Chloe’s heavy comfortable and watches Chloe tidy up. She winces when Chloe gingerly picks up the small pistol that Beca had laid on top of her jacket and moves it carefully into her drawer for safekeeping. She hangs Beca’s jacket up in her closet among her own clothes. The simple act warms Beca’s heart long enough that she momentarily forgets about the worries clogging her mind. They return in full force however when Chloe’s gaze returns to her.

“Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?” Chloe asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

Beca tries to smirk. “After what we just did in the shower?”

Chloe frowns further. “Beca…I don’t…even know what happened to you, still.” She slowly climbs into bed next to Beca, cuddling in close. Beca can tell Chloe is still concerned with how carefully her hand comes up to rest on her chest. “Was…was what we did okay?”

Beca winds her arm gingerly around Chloe’s head, reaching up to tangle in Chloe’s damp curls. “It was,” she promises. “I needed to feel you, Chlo. You make it all…go away.”

Chloe worries her lower lip between her teeth. “I do?”

“More than you know. I’ve told you this,” Beca reminds her gently.

“Tell me what happened to you,” Chloe requests softly.

Beca swallows, flashes of pain and hurt returning to her with full force. The weight of Chloe’s head settles on her uninjured shoulder. She knows she ought to get it checked out as soon as possible, but she feels warm and safe in Chloe’s bed; in Chloe’s arms.

“I’m scared,” Beca admits finally after a few moments of playing with Chloe’s hair.

Chloe lifts her head slightly, propping her chin up. “Of what?”

“Losing you.”

It isn’t the first time that Beca has admitted it aloud—the first time, tears in both their eyes, still echoes in her head like a permanent reminder of the burden she has to carry with her forever. This is, however, a moment that Beca feels like it is more and more a reality.

“You won’t,” Chloe promises, as steady as ever. “Bec, I keep telling you—”

“I know,” Beca says hastily. “I just…this is my life,” she admits forlornly. “This is my life and how I have to live…and I don’t want you to get hurt, above all.”

Chloe leans up to kiss her, surprising her with how soft and passionate the kiss is. Beca cups the back of Chloe’s head tenderly, eager to let the conversation fade away and continue this if anything, but Chloe pulls back too quickly for Beca’s liking. She whines in protest, but quietens at Chloe’s expression.

“I’m an adult, Beca,” Chloe mumbles. She reaches up to trace Beca’s lips with her index finger. “I know how to handle myself.”

Beca closes her eyes. It’s what every person in her position would dream of hearing if this were some kind of romantic movie where danger was rather limited, but she knows that no matter how many assertions Chloe makes, Chloe has absolutely no idea what the reality is. Or how bad it is.

“I could have died tonight,” Beca admits. Chloe’s hand slows before it drops away. “I could have died because I was stupid and I wasn’t thinking…and that means something. But…” she inhales deeply at the frozen expression on Chloe’s face. “But all I could think of was you. And how I couldn’t bear to lose you. Or what it would be like to never see your face again.”

fin for now.

#bechloe #my fanfic #mafia!au #Anonymous #ask

96 notes · View notes

darkdevasofdestruction · 5 years

Text

God’s Snowdrop - Dio Brando (Non Vampire AU)

"Where were you?!" my father's drunk voice rasped from the living room as soon as I entered the house. "Mother's funeral..." I muttered, trying to slip away to my room. "That gives you no excuse to get home empty-handed! You think we can go by daily with no money?! You think I, alone, can support the both of us?! You are 10 years old, you should bring money by now too, you lazy bitch!" he yelled, before the sound of a stumble was heard, and I locked myself in my bedroom before he could reach me. "Honestly...Not even on her funeral day can you be decent...Fucking pig..." I growled, staying on the window pane and continuing my book reading.

The next day, after I was able to sell all the flowers and matchboxes, I was able to sit at the foot of a tree and study the same medicine book that I've been reading for this whole year... The one my mother bought me om my birthday, just before she died, as she knew my dreams were of becoming a doctor. Dreams... That's all they will be... Only far away dreams... But at least I can try.

It's not like I have anything better to do. I didn't realise how time passed, until a blond boy with a scowl on his face stood above me, snapping me from my studying.

"What can I help you with?" I asked in a soft voice, looking up at him with a tired expression. "You're in my spot! Move over!" he growled in rage, and I could only nod. "Okay, sorry about that, I didn't know." I picked up the basket near me and decided to leave home, before he grasped my wrist tightly, turning me around. "What are you? A sewer rat, or a rich bastard? I can't tell and it's annoying me!" he sneered, but in a way he seemed to be thinking something else entirely. "Something in between, I guess? My mother was a tailor and used to work for upper and middle class people, so she would always make pretty dresses for me and made sure to always look my best. On the other hand, I suppose with how the house is almost collapsing on us, we're not too far away from actual alley rats." I shrugged nonchalantly, looking up at the pink evening sky. "How old are you? You seem to have the audacity to speak like a much older and noble snob." he scoffed, glaring at me. "I am 10 years old. My name is Katrina Stark, since you seem to be asking quite a lot of questions. I'm nobody important, just the girl who sells flowers and match boxes so her father can have enough booze to pass out faster. Now, may I go home, Mister I-Have-No-Name?" I tiled my head to the side slightly, waiting for the seal of approval. "What an ill-mannered woman, you don't even ask for my name. I am Dio Brando, you better remember that name! Despite how rude you are, it seems you are capable enough to read? Whatever could someone like you be able to read? Nursery rhymes?" he laughed condescendingly as he snatched the book from my grasp. "Not quite what I would call nursery rhymes..." I muttered, looking away, slightly uncomfortable. "You...You...Read medical textbooks...? A mere 10 year old dumb little girl? And you wish to tell me you understand the words written here? And how these apply to the human body?!" he stared at me with a lowkey angered expression, shifting his expression from the book to myself. "My mother bought me that book. She suffered from an unknown illness and I vowed to discover a cure for said illness. Tell me what you want, it's not like I care in particular, but nobody's words are going to stop my ambitions and dreams. And, for the record, yes, I do understand what it is written here. I could read since I was 5, and I'm not that stupid as to not be able to corelate the text to real life." with a deadpan expression, I snatch the book away from the boy who seemed to be almost double my height, and turned around to go to my home, hiding the book at the bottom of the basket and counted the money.

I muttered a curse as I realise I could only buy 4, instead of the 5 bottles of liqueur that father wants, and I was short 1 coin... But I had no more flowers nor match boxes. Damn it. What could the odds of him being asleep be, I wonder? Maybe if I wait outside long enough, he will fall asleep? Or maybe I can somehow find something to sell? But what? I then realised that I kept 2 oranges in the basket, as a lunch, but I was much too absorbed in my lecture to realise my hunger, and I could sell them for that coin... But now... Who would want oranges? It's already dark outside and it's pretty dangerous on these dirty streets of London... And yet, it's much more dangerous inside. Soon enough, wandering the strewts, trying to avoid any drunk or scary men, I find a policeman, so I rush to him, tugging on his sleeve, with a puppy face.

"Mister policeman, please, would you please buy these oranges? Just one coin! I can't go home if I don't sell everything." I beg him, putting my hands together, fingers intertwined as if praying. "A little girl like you shouldn’t be wandering these streets at such an hour. Go straight home, alright?" the policeman smiled kindly at me as he put the coin in my hands.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thanked him and rushed back home - Home that was glued to a bar, and bought the usual delivery from the bartender since he knew I would just give it to my father, not without seeing the pity look in his eyes. When I arrived home, I put the 5 bottles next to his bed, but I had no idea where he was...Until a crash came from the kitchen and I knew I had to run to my room. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough, and he caught me by the neck of my dress, slamming me on the ground.

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO LATE?! DID YOU SLACK OFF AGAIN?!" he shouted at me. "P-People didn't want to buy today, I'm s-so sorry! But I got the 5 bottles! They're in your room!" I tried to stutter out defensively, but no excuse was enough for him to forgive me, so I bitterly accepted the beating...Not that it was anything new.

The next day, just as usual, I went to the field after making sure I got all the coins, and started reading, however, on my way there, I noticed a few kids playing, but one was on the ground, his pants torn at the knee, with his skin scraped, crying.

“Do you want me to fix that?” I asked simply, crouching down next to him. “Can you?” the boy asked, wiping his tears away, as his friends gathered around him. “Of course I can. Good thing I carry ointment and cloth with me, just in case.” I muttered, taking out the marigold ointment I made, I get the water bottle, water the cloth, cleaned the wound, then applied the treatment quickly on the wound and bandaged the kid’s knee. “There, all done. You should be fine by tomorrow.” I shrugged, gathering my things, ready to leave. “Thank you so much, miss! You’re amazing!” he cheered in glee, getting back again and playing with his friends. “Tsk...Lame.” I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn’t see, before I went to read again, careful not sit at the foot of the same tree, so the boy wouldn't bother me again.

What a joke, though. He would be bothered by something no matter where I'd be, I'll soon come to realise, as today, again, he was there.

This time, however, he sat down next to me and took the book in his hands, skimming through it calmly.

"Uhm...Hello...Dio." I mumble unsurely, looking at the boy who acted as if he owned the place. "It's one of the best books on the market. Must have cost a fortune." he speaks, completely out of context. "I...Suppose so. I wasn't able to step into a bookshop...Or a library, for the matter. I will trust your word for it." I shrugged, resting my chin on my knees. "Your mother knows her stuff well. Does she have nurses, midwives or doctors as relatives?" Dio asks, and I merely shrug once again. "I don't know. To be fair, I don't particularly know anything about my family." I spoke nonchalantly, humming slightly. "Why don't you ask her today? I am rather curious." he passes me the book back, but I could only stare at him with a dead expression. "She's dead." was all I said, as I noticed his eyes widen slightly. "I see." his voice went down in realisation. "Her funeral was 2 days ago. He didn't want to come. Said he'd drink in her honour...Tsk, what a joke. Men are such a joke...They charm a woman, steal her from her family, then get married, have a child...Then they stop working, while also demanding their wives to work to death, only to use the money on alcohol...Disgusting..." I took the book from his hands, but I didn't have the power to open it from all the pent up rage I held in my heart. "My mother's disease was actually just stress and body over-exhaustion. That much is obvious...Everyone knows...But nobody wants to say a thing. This society should just burn." I sneered, forgetting for a moment that there was someone next to me. "Your words are bold for someone so young and small." he praises lowly, turning his head to look at me. "...Words mean nothing if you can't do anything about it." I reply simply, tilting my head to look at him dead in the eyes. "Why are still here? You have nothing to gain from hanging around me. I have no way of benefiting you in any way. So, why...?" I asked in a firmer voice, yet it was still light and gentle. "You are right, I have nothing to gain from you. I shall take my leave." he started getting up, but I grasped his sleeve, not raising my head. "Won't you stay for a bit more? I haven't talked to someone in a while. I forgot how nice it is." I explain how I felt, and for some reason, he sat back down with a confident chuckle. "Heh! Of course you'd want to stay around the great Dio Brando! It is fine, I'm in a great mood today, I suppose I can indulge in some time wasting with some common girl." he spoke, pointing to himself, which made me giggle softly. "You're pretty cute, you know?" I smile softly, which earned a smirk from him. "Keh. So even someone like you can see how great I am. Who knows, Katrina, maybe when I become THE most successful lawyer, I might come back and even greet you." he boasted with full pride. "A lawyer, hmm? I can't say I'd see you as anything else. You seem that kind of person who wouldn't be stopped by laws, morals or ethics and would do anything to get what you wanted and be right. It'd be pretty fun, watching you argue until you win." I hum in amusement. "So even someone insignificant like you can recognise that I will be a flawless lawyer! Maybe you're not so bad after all." he held his head high in pride. “I see you like anyone who flatters you. Some may call you vain, you know?” I gave him a side smile. “I don’t care about others. I am the most important person in my life.” he scoffed with a frown. “That’s a nice life philosophy, you know? Maybe one day I’ll think the same too. Until then, I should still hold this wish to save others.” I hummed in amusement. “I saw what you did to that brat. What did you use?” he asked in curiosity. “Just some marigold ointment I made. It can heal wounds like that pretty fast.” I spoke as a matter of fact. “I see...Not bad, for some common wench like you. I guess you can be more interesting than I thought.” he praised, which made me look at him in surprise. “That’s...Very nice of you to say. Thank you, Dio.” I nodded at him, my cheeks becoming slightly pink. “Azaleas in your hair, hellebore in your eyes and roses in your cheeks. You’re like a nice bouquet of flowers that’s going to wither soon if nobody takes good care of you...Or can you prove me wrong?” he asked, getting closer to me, caressing my rosy cheek with the back of his hand. "Well...Unfortunately, I have to go. It's getting late and I don't want to get in trouble with that poor excuse of a father. It was great talking to you...Maybe we'll see each other again." I picked up my basket, hiding the book once again and waving him goodbye, before rushing to buy the bottles for my father, hoping that I won't mess up again for some reason.

Days passed one after the other, and Dio was nice enough to come see me daily. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't about to question it either. Unfortunately, despite how nice this day was, it ended horribly, as I noticed my father coming in my direction.

"Dio...Do me a favour and leave. And take my book too. I'll see you tomorrow, I think." my voice was trembling softly, glaring at the approaching figure. "What?! How dare you-" Dio glared at me, but I snapped my back at him with pleading eyes, which made him look at me with widened eyes. "Just go...I don't know what he'll do. That's my father there...And the worst he could do is burn this book which would ultimately kill me. Please...Just listen to me and go. I don't want to get you in trouble too." I bit my lip, looking back at the silhouette that was so close now. "Fine. But you haven't heard the end of this." he grumbled, taking my book and going in the opposite direction. "You, whore! So that's what you've been doing?! Whoring around with random boys and slacking off when you could be earning money?! You're a selfish and worthless slut, just like your mother! Get home right now!" father hollered, his voice echoed throughout the glade, yanking and dragging me by the hair back home.

The whole night was even more than what one would ordinary call a nightmare, but I could at least consider myself lucky to be alive. I guess. Who knows? Of course, the next day I was forced to make money anyway, and I wasn't able to stay more than an hour on the spot with Dio, which angered him quite a lot. When I was leaving, he quickly put his hand on my shoulder with a little more force than he realised, which made me yelp and jump in my skin slightly. "Why...Did you react like that? Are you afraid of me? You think I'd hit you? Think I'd step so low as to hurt a girl?!" he growled in anger, his grip tightening on my shoulder. "No...It just hurt. Sorry to make you feel bad. Last night was...Not the best." I tried to explain in a way that I wouldn't have to say more. "He beat you?" he spoke bluntly, and I could only look away from him.

He then got furious and lowered my dress from the neck back, revealing the whip marks on my back, still pink and vivid from last night, spreading down my back like the tangled web of a spider.

"He did this to you, didn't he?" he muttered, close to my ear. "Do you really need confirmation?" I ask, looking down at the ground. "Why do you do nothing about it? There’s one thing to beat up a man, since that’s how you assert dominance, but doing it to a woman is simply unforgivable." he asked once again. "Do what? I'm nothing more than a useless little girl in a society led by men who think they're so powerful. I have no power. No way to save myself. I have no idea how I could even get the money to get myself into Med school." I gritted my teeth, putting back my dress over my shoulders. "Kill him and keep the money for yourself. You can sustain yourself from the money you earn already. There are still a few years before you can apply for University, it's plenty of time." he explains, and I merely shrugged. "Maybe..." I spoke, barely audible. "I came here to tell you that my father died today, and from tomorrow on, I will be living out of London, with a rich family that is going to support my dream financially. Once I become a Lawyer and can afford sustain myself, I will come back for you. Will you wait for me, Katrina?" he asked, getting in front of me and putting his hands on my face, lifting it up so I would look at him. "Why would you come back for me? I'm a nobody." I ask, frowning in confusion and blushing softly. "Because you believed in my greatness." he kissed my forehead gently. "You are mine now, little Snowdrop, so better not let anyone else touch you, got it?" he spoke in a voice that borderlined possessiveness. "I promise." I put my own hands over his own, closing my eyes and enjoying the last few seconds of serenity.

- 10 years later -

I was able to get into Med school 2 years ago thanks to a legacy that my mother hid away from my father in her Will, at the bank. The down part was that I had to pretend to be a man for the whole duration of the University, but my diploma will be written with my actual name on it.

One day, during my practice at the hospital, we heard that a group of law students in their final year were to visit and see how practices happen around, so they would understand the laws, ethics, morals and how patients fare.

Being one of the top students, in my 4th year already, I was allowed to present the most ethically challenging cases to the law students, what we ought to choose, and what the other side of the coin is, all while going in clear medical detail.

My long red hair was tied with a ribbon and draped over my shoulder, while my fringe was framing my face and the large lab coat was hugging my frame as if I was almost trying to hide.

By the end of it all, after hearing discussions and debates between the students, some of them bound to absolute rule and others bound to be less ethical and moral, I listen carefully to what each of them has to say, particularly the blond boy who spoke with great confidence as if he was unstoppable and untouchable by anything around him. He was beyond everything. I wonder...

Could this be the boy I used to know long ago, when I was still very young and fragile?

The whole day I ran around the hospital all day, and at evening, I was finally able to go home, tired out of my mind. And yet, as I was walking down the wet, cobbled stone streets of London, I heard a voice call out for the "redhead", and since I knew I was the only one around, I fix the deerstalker hat to hide my face and feminine features, turning around, only to see the blond man from earlier.

"Yes? How may I help you" I ask in a voice that was desperately trying to be lower than usual. "You're a woman, aren't you? I know who you are." he spoke with a smirk, as he flicked the front of my hat with his fingers, making it fly away and fall on the ground. "Then, my suspicions were correct. You really are Dio Brando." I nodded, my face still passive, and yet, a smile was creeping rapidly on my face. "It has been 10 years, and you can tell that I am the great Dio Brando. Of course, only someone like you would be able to. And to think you were able to study Medicine, just as you dreamt." Dio chuckled, crossing his arms and looking down at me. "I thought you were tall before...Now I really look up at you as if looking for God. Your name truly fits you." I burst into laughter, trying to stifle my giggles with my hand, as Dio was towering over me like an elephant next to a little Corgi pup. "And you look as frail as a Snowdrop, just as you used to before. You barely changed...Yet you at least look like a woman now. And your hair grew beautifully...Soft like velvet..." he muttered, his hands on my hair, as he untied the ribbon and let it cascade down my back. "Do you really fool anyone with this façade?" he hummed in amusement. "I'm not sure. I enrolled as a man, I will graduate and practice as a woman. It's just formalities...I don't know for sure, but it doesn't matter as long as it all works in my favour, in the end." I shrugged, fixing my hair. "I haven't let it down in quite a while." I smiled softly, unconsciously braiding a small streak of crimson. "I told you, didn't I? I would come for you. I always keep my promises. And what a pleasant surprise to see that you're almost done with your studies as well. Where do you live?" he asks, pulling me closer to him. "At home. I can't afford to live anywhere else." I shrugged simply. "What about that bastard?" he sneered in disgust. "Well, what do you think happened?" I smirked, provoking him. "You killed him? Did you really have it in you to kill him, Snowdrop?" he pulled me away to look into my eyes. "I won't say anything that could possibly incriminate me, Mr. Lawyer. However, should you want to pursue a detective path, I might be persuaded to...Drop a few hints?" I smirked, challenging him. "Now I'm intrigued. My University education is almost over and my foster father said he'll buy me a nice house here, in London. Once I no longer have to live in those wretched student halls, you'll come to live with me, got it?" he smirked proudly. "Oh, and what privilege, Monsieur Dio. Is it because you are burning with curiosity to find out how I got into Med school?" I tilted my head to the side with a foxy expression, but next thing I know, I'm being pulled in a deep kiss that left me shocked, breathless and wanting more. "I love it when you challenge me. The fire in your eyes is as powerful as your hair. It's so lovely that I could break you any time, so easily and nobody would notice." he smirked, stroking a strand of my hair. "This Snowdrop thinks you're beginning to talk like a sociopath. Not that I'm surprised in the least, to be fair. Well then, Dio, till we next see each other again. Good luck with your last year of University...Though, luck is the last thing you need." I wink at him with before turning around on my heel, flipping my long hair back, letting it flow graciously in the wind as I walked home, waving lazily at the blond boy who became a man.

A year went by faster than I expected and before I knew it, I went to see the graduation ceremony, only to see, not surprisingly, that Dio was the top of his year, with top marks, always got scholarships and now he got a ton of job opportunities in London, all of them extremely well paid.

His speech was very Dio-like, full of pride and confidence, which also inspired everyone to believe in him and go to him for any need. After he got off the podium, receiving his diploma, awards, after shaking hands with all the important people there, he walked to where his class was, receiving praises even there. It was obvious that he managed to get everyone to be his little minions.

After they all threw their hats in the air, they decided to go celebrate, so smiling, I was going to go home, before a hand stopped me, and turned me around, only to see Dio himself.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in confusion "Am I not allowed to congratulate you for being the best, as usual?" I shrugged, with a sly smile in my face. "I wasn't expecting to see Snowdrop around. What a nice surprise. But were you going to leave without even greeting me?" he raised his eyebrow, getting closer to my face. “You were pretty busy, I didn't want to disturb you or anything. Today is your day of ultimate glory. Go out, have fun, do whatever men do when they celebrate and...I don't know, enjoy your day with your minions-...I mean classmates." I quickly cover my mistake with a low chuckle, looking down humbly. “Don’t look down when around me! You’re not like the rest, so don’t act like them. Don’t act like some meek, submissive sheep! It pisses me off!” he growled in annoyance, grabbing my face and making me look up. “It was a plant.” I smirked at him, before I pulled him down in a kiss. “What...?” he blinked in surprise, his cheeks becoming rosier. “What are you acting all blushy for, dear? You wanted a challenge, I gave you a hint. Go ahead and figure it all out, will you?” I winked at him, leaving him awestruck, as I went on my merry way back home with a satisfied smirk on my face.

Not too much time passed and we moved in together and he began working, while I was working and studying all day long, both of us making good money and soon enough, he wanted to bring me to meet his foster father and brother for some formalities. Apparently, Jonathan - or JoJo, shorter - asked Erina to marry him and he wanted all 5 of us to have a nice dinner together.

It was pretty awkward, to say the least, especially since I wasn’t the best when it came to socialisation, but Dio and Jonathan talked enough so that I didn’t really have to say anything.

“Congratulation, JoJo, you found such a beautiful and gentle girl! She will make a great wife and mother for your children.” Mr. Joestar praised, making both of them blush, and I could feel my heart falling, realising where the conversation was going. “Thank you, father. Erina is the best woman I could ever have the pleasure of meeting. I’m really happy I got to meet her and have her be my wife, and I hope I will make her the happiest person alive, just like she does to me.” JoJo confessed, holding her hands. “Aww, JoJo, you’re so sweet. I love you so much!” she smiled bashfully, blushing furiously. “And you, Dio, this young lady is gorgeous! Did I understand correctly from JoJo that she’s an intellectual?” he asked, smiling at us. “Of course she is. I wouldn’t be courting just any common girl that’s only good for cooking and sewing.” he declared proudly, playing with a strand of my hair. “That’s very rare, but commendable. What is it that you do, dear?” he asked me directly. “I’m a Med student in London and I also practice at the University’s hospital.” I managed to speak in a firm voice, not wavering in any way, thankfully. “You practice medicine? Do you wish to become a midwife or a nurse?” he asked, intrigued. “No. Next year I will get my diploma and I will be a fully-practicing doctor.” I explained, which made him raise his eyebrow. “I didn’t know Universities and Hospitals allowed women to train and become doctors! I can’t believe how fast years passed by me! We truly live in a revolutionary era!” he praised, despite sounding like a double-edged compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Joestar. I suppose when you’re good at something, nobody can turn you away.” I spoke with a bit of acid, which made Dio smirk next to me. “It is a wonderful career to be pursuing, dear, but will you have time for the children? Such a profession isn’t easy for a woman, you know? It’s usually either one or the other.” he smiled fatherly at me, but it only pissed me off. “That’s something for the future, father. We’re still very young, we have the whole life ahead of us. It’s the 19th century, after all.” Dio saved me from this conversation. “You’re right, you’re right, how silly of me! I suppose I miss having you two as children around this place, that it only made me think like an old man, wishing to see his grandchildren running around!” Mr. Joestar laughed nostalgic, and I could only sigh in relief.

The dinner didn’t last long after this, and we were allowed to go to our rooms. I stood by the vanity in my nightgown, braiding my long hair in a side tail, not wanting it to bother me while sleeping, but Dio had other plans, as he picked me up and threw me on the bed, stealing away the ribbon from my hand.

“Uh...Dio? Do you want me to tie your hair with my ribbon, or what?” I asked, looking at him in confusion. “Why would you tie your hair without brushing it?” he asked, shaking his head. “Because...I was tired? I don’t know, I don’t usually brush my hair before bed. I only do it in the morning.” I shrugged, getting in a sitting position, looking up at him. “You’re doing a terrible job at taking care of your hair, Snowdrop. Stay still and let me do it.” he said as he sat on the bed behind me, pulling me closer to him, as he started gently brushing my hair. “You could just say that you want to play with my hair, I don’t mind. In fact, I quite like it.” I giggled teasingly, which only made him pull at my hair. “Don’t be silly.” he muttered lowly. “He was declared dead by heart attack.” was the 2nd hint I gave him. “Asian medicine?” he asked suddenly, and after a few seconds of silence, I spoke up. “Is it how you killed your father?” I asked softly, not moving an inch. “How do you know I kill my father?” he sneered as he pinned me down on the bed. “I didn’t...Until you confirmed it.” I smirked in victory, seeing his wide eyes. “I’ve had my suspicions since that last day when we saw each other years ago, when you suggested killing my father, while also having yours dead all of a sudden, and you getting this opportunity to live with the Joestars. You merely confirmed my theory.” I explained to him, which made me sit on his knees, no longer standing above me, yet still looking down at me. “You’re too smart for your own good, Katrina. He deserved it. He deserved to die an even more painful death than he did, but it can’t be helped.” he sneered in anger, as I got up, putting my hands on his face, no longer trying to provoke him. “Do you want to talk about it, my love?” I asked in a gentle voice, not wanting to anger him. “There’s nothing to talk about. He was nothing more than a fucking waste of space who killed my mother. He was a fuckass, just like yours. I spit on his grave before coming here, that’s how much I loathed his existence. I’m glad I was the one to get him out of this world. He’s the reason my mother died. He overworked my mother to death...Just like your shit head of a father did to your father.” he growled in anger, which made me pull him down on the bed, cradling his head to my chest, stroking his hair soothingly. “You did the right thing, Dio. He deserved to die...And you avenged your mother too. You did really good, my dear.” I tried to sooth him. “So what did you use?” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Belladonna berries. I squished them and put the juice in his wine. They cause involuntary muscle paralysis, including the heart, which is why they thought it was a heart attack. Correlated with the fact that he was a drunkie...Nobody suspected poisoning.” I explained everything that happened, which made him raise slightly, resting on his hand to look at me with a proud smirk. “Can’t believe my little Snowdrop was capable of pulling such a nice trick at that age. I’m proud of you.” he praises, kissing me tenderly, raking his fingers through my hair. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Kitten. Don’t listen to that old fart, he can’t tell us how to live our lives. Together, we’re unstoppable and that’s all that matters. Just finish your education and I’ll make you mine, officially. If JoJo has a well paid job, mine will be a hundred times better. If JoJo has a nice wedding, ours will be a thousand times more fabulous...And if JoJo thinks he has a nice wife...Then he should have realised by now that my girl is an infinite times better than his boring housewife Erina. You are mine, Katrina, and there’s never been a person alive who could excite me the way you do.” he kissed me once again, even more passionately than before, rolling himself so he was on top of me. “I don’t know what’s gotten you in such a soft mood, but honestly, you praising me like that really does things to me that I can’t explain. Do it more.” I smiled at him, bringing him closer to me. “You have to deserve it, sweetheart.” he muttered against my skin, as he started kissing my neck, slowly revealing my shoulder. “You still have those marks from years ago. If I could, I would beat that disgusting cockroach to death...But I promise you, nobody will ever even dare of treating you any less than they would treat a Princess. I am a man of my word, and you know it by know.” he growled against my skin, before he kissed my knuckles and made his promise by putting his forehead against mine. “I trust you, Dio. You know I always have and always will.” I intertwined my fingers with his, squeezing his hand, before kissing him once again, letting all the love flow.

111 notes · View notes

nonie-star · 4 years

Text

The sad demise of Daphne Louise

A small short story about the demise of one of my OCs. I’m practising writing darker scenes and I’m actually kind of proud of this try, so I wanted to post it.

It is about the final hours of my OC Daphne Louise.

I feel that for context it is important to mention that she was born deaf, but acquired some hearing through illegal trials of a spell, that also came with some side effects of special healing powers that no one can truly explain.

Word count: 2.599 words

Contrary to popular believe, this was not Daphne’s first time on the battlefield. She did not like to fight, she really did not. Usually, she played more of a supporting role rather than an offensive one, but today she did not care.

Today was different.

She had only learnt about the huge fight at Hogwarts half an hour ago and had wasted no time to jump in and help. Try to help at least. She could not just stand by as all her friends were getting hurt.

With her anomaly, her gift, she could help. She could really make a difference in this fight...

But first she needed to find her friends that she knew to be somewhere in the middle of things. They had gotten here before her, so long before her... how much had she missed? Had something happened that she could have helped with had she been there?

Could she have prevented someone’s death had she been around?

Daphne cursed herself for having shown up late, but she hadn’t known... it had been a day like any other, how could she have...?

Daphne kept running- she just wanted to find one of her friends, any of them. Almost all of them were here, what if they had all- no, she could not think like that. Not before she had actually found any of them... Then all of a sudden, she came to a halt. She just froze. She could not believe what she was seeing, no it couldn’t be...

Lupin and Tonks were kneeling in front of a small body. A woman with white-silverish hair, a small frame and scars covering her face and arms... It was Chiara.

Daphne gasped. “I- I don’t know what happened...” Lupin stammered. “She just... jumped in front of me, I... he was about to hit me with the killing curse, I-” he fell silent. Daphne looked down at her best friends' lifeless body in horror.

No-

She wasted no time and knelt in front of her friends’ body. She grabbed her hands and closed her eyes, preparing to start healing her.

“Daph, it’s not... going to work...” Tonks murmured, tears forming in her eyes. “We both know it won’t, you’ve tried before, and it didn’t...”

Daphne knew what she meant. She had previously tried to bring the dead back to life, but it had never worked. She had always passed out before making any kind of difference... But it had to work this time, she couldn’t just let Chiara die like this, she deserved so much better!

So, she took a deep breath, getting ready. “I know... what you feel for her, everyone does but that won’t change anything. You are just going to put yourself in danger.” Tonks said, wiping her tears.

But Daphne wasn’t having it. “Let me do it!” she said. “Just cover me!” Tonks got up, pulling Remus with her. If Daphne talked instead of using sign language, she meant business. There would be nothing stopping her from trying to bring her friend back. Usually, she used sign language. The only one that heard her talk semi-regularly was Chiara.

She closed her eyes, tightly holding her hands. But it didn’t work. This was not the time for her powers to fail, why...? Tears welled up in her eyes. No! She couldn’t just let her die!

Chiara had been Daphne’s first ever friend, the one person that had always understood her, both literally and figuratively.... the one person she had ever truly loved, even if it was unrequited. She could not let her die; it just couldn’t happen.

“Please work!” she pleaded. “Please!”

Sobs were shaking her entire body. She just couldn’t be dead, she couldn’t be... Tonks placed a hand on her shoulder. “Daph, she’s-” But Daphne couldn’t accept that, she wouldn’t! Not when she knew that she had it in her to help! One last time she focused all her energy, trying to bring her back.

And suddenly, she felt the usual energy flood through her veins. Relived she squeezed Chiaras hands, as to quietly assure her that all would be okay.

Soon, she felt the extreme tiredness taking over her body that she always felt when healing bigger wounds. Previously she had failed because of it, but this time she was not giving up so easily. With all her might, she fought back against the tiredness.

And suddenly, it just... stopped. She felt... powerful. More powerful than she had ever before. Previously she had never managed to bypass the point of exhaustion, this was... new.

In a snap, she opened her eyes. “Holy shit, Daph...” Tonks said, not believing what she was seeing. Daphne’s usually blue eyes were glowing bright green instead. Some sort of all holy Aura seemed to be surrounding her.

For a moment it seemed like the world had stopped turning, to Daphne at least. All that mattered was this, nothing else did.

It only took two minutes or so, but it felt like an eternity. But all of a sudden, Chiara opened her eyes with a gasp. Daphne let go of her hands, just to immediately give her a hug. She felt exhausted and faint but had never been prouder of herself.

“Daphne, what... happened...?” Chiara asked, confused. The last thing she remembered was jumping in front of Lupin to take the hit for him, because she knew he has a family. Had the curse missed her, or had she mistaken another spell for the killing spell? The next thing she knew was that Lupin was hugging her as well, thanking her.

“Nothing happened.” Daphne signed after letting go of her again. ”You just fainted.” Chiara looked at her, concerned. Her friend looked awfully pale, and she was trembling. “We should go, we’re not safe here.” she then signed and tried to get up. But she immediately fell back down, landing on her knees.

Suddenly, Chiara started to suspect something. “Daphne, what did you do...? Did you-” With a sharp movement of her hands, Daphne cut her off, getting up again. “Okay, okay, okay.” Chiara said, also getting up to support her. “I won’t ask again. Careful.”

She led her over the battlefield, trying to find a safe place for her friend to rest.

If what she suspected was true, if Daphne had indeed brought her back from the dead, she must be absolutely exhausted. A safe place, a safe place... she could not think of anything. Until suddenly it hit er. The Hufflepuff common room. It was safe, there were some nice fluffy couches to rest on, she should be fine.

“I know where we’ll go.” she said, leading Daphne along.

While they were walking along, using the Disillusionment charm to disguise themselves, they walked past the hospital wing. And even with all that was going on Chiara couldn’t help but stop in front of it. “Do you remember?” With a coy smile Daphne responded that of course she did. How could she ever forget the day she met her very best friend?

For a second, both marvelled in fond memories of their first meeting, but then quickly moved on to their destination.

“You should be fine here for a little while.” Chiara said, helping Daphne to the couch. With a groan Daphne sat down. She had never felt this exhausted before in her life. As she was about to close her eyes, Chiara sat down next to her.

“I just... Daphne, why did you...?” she didn’t even know how to phrase her question. “Why did you save me?” she asked, rather straight forward.

Daphne looked away, shrugging.

“Lou.” Chiara said.

That use of her nickname hit her right in the feelings. Chiara hadn’t called her that in years.

“Be honest with me.”

Daphne grew flustered and looked to the side. And then, in a single heartbeat she revealed a secret that had been weighing on her since her fifth year at Hogwarts.

“Because I Love you.”

Chiara looked at her, not quite knowing what to say. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known. Everybody had, she was no exception. But this was the first time that Daphne had ever admitted to it.

“I.... Daphne we’ll... talk about this... later...”

She knew she’d have to have this talk with her someday. After all, she was married to Jae and really had no other feelings towards Daphne than friendship... But today was not the day for it. She needed to get back out there, to go see if she could help anyone-

And that was what she told Daphne, that she needed to go.

Her arms crossed and huddled against the armrest of the couch, she nodded. Before Chiara left, Daphne reminded her not to die again.

“I won’t...” Chiara responded.

She had done it, now she had screwed everything up, Daphne thought. She should have just lied and said that it was because she was her best friend, no other reasons. But she did love Chiara, more than anything else. She had for a long time.

Daphne didn’t want to wait for Chiara to come back, she just wanted to get away. Even if that meant walking through a horde of death eaters in her condition.

Carefully she got up holding on to the armrest to not immediately collapse again. Maybe pushing past her limits had been a bad idea. There must be a reason why she usually passed out before this point. Her legs kept giving out from under her, and she barely even made it to the exit before she fell again.

This would pass, she told herself. All would go back to normal, she just needed to get out of here. At the moment, she wasn’t prepared to face Chiara again.

Things had calmed down. The fight was over, you know who had been defeated... Chiara looked over all the bodies. So many people had died, even though all the healers present had tried their best... But nobody could do anything against the killing curse... except for Daphne.

Now it was time to go get her, now that things were safe... even though Chiara dreaded facing her again. She wanted to tell her that it was okay, that nothing would change... but she wasn’t quite sure how. But her feelings could wait, for now she just needed to get her out of her... Daphne seemed very weak, Chiara worried that there was something seriously wrong with her. So, she quickly ran to the Hufflepuff common room.

“What are you doing? I told you to stay put!” Daphne sighed. Busted. Chiara knelt next to her. “You need to save you strength.”

Her voice even more unsteady than normally, Daphne asked if they had won. Yes they had, Chiara said as she helped her up.

Daphne showed her a small smile, yet still seemed nervous. She pretended to fix something on her hearing aid, to not have to look her in the eyes.

“Listen...” Chiara said, while they slowly walked back to somewhere they could apparate from. “Things don’t need to change between us, if you’re okay with that...”

A little confused, Daphne asked how she could just take this so casually, especially after just finding out.

And even after all that happened, even after all this death and destruction, Chiara had to smirk. “Just finding out? Lou, I’ve known for years. You are not the most inconspicuous my friend. I was just shocked to see you admit it after so many years.”

This made Daphne blush. She did not have the energy to hit her friend her right now, but she really wanted to.

They soon reached the place where all their friends were gathered.

“It’s finally over...” Tonks sighed, a relived expression on her face. She turned to Remus. “We can go see Teddy, finally... I’m so glad...” He just silently hugged her.

Daphne had just managed to stand up straight without the help of Chiara, when she already had to watch Jae pick her up and spin her around, happy to have found her alive. She turned her face away. This was nothing new of course, but it still hurt every time.

“Are you okay?” Nonie inquired. They were somewhat friends- only really because their Dads were friends, so they sometimes had to play with each other as kids. Daphne shrugged. She didn’t feel okay, she felt like she was going to pass out- she had held on while waiting, while knowing that she was not safe, but now...

“We need to get you to St. Mungo.” Chiara said, grabbing hold of Daphne again. “You can be helped there, I’m sure of it!” But then Daphne suddenly just collapsed, right into her arms.

“Okay...” Chiara said, lowering herself down to the floor, resting Daphne’s head on her knees. “Let me see what I can do here...” She decided to first of all check her vitals and checked her pulse.

It was much weaker than she would have liked it to be... this was new. Previously Daphne had just passed out and had been perfectly fine afterwards, this was...

“I’m worried, Daphne. You are not looking very good, I really think that this is not normal, I...”

But Daphne only looked up at her with her tired eyes and smiled. That kind smile, the same one she had when they had first met.

Then, her eyes fell closed.

Chiara had to smile too, at first. Daphne had really tried to stay awake to make it easier but had still ended up passing out.

That brief moment of happiness did not last. Only a second later Chiara realised that Daphne was not breathing.

She had no pulse, she was just-

“Chiara what’s wrong?” Lupin asked, seeing his young friends shocked expression.

Chiara couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was drop Daphne to the floor and start doing chest compressions.

Now the others had caught on to what had happened. Nobody knew what to say, everybody was in a state of shock. They hadn’t expected this, they had thought it was over! There had been enough death today, why couldn’t it have ended there?

The only one taking action was Chiara. She couldn’t just let her best friend die like this, especially not because of her own mistakes! “Chiara, there is no point...” Tulip whispered, looking down at her old roommate's lifeless body. She had been trying her best, but her attempts of revival were doing nothing.

Daphne was gone.

Chiaras best friend was gone, but she couldn’t accept it. “Shut up! I can help her!” Desperate, she slammed a hand down on Daphnes heart. “Come on! Breathe!” But nothing happened. Daphne lied still, her long black hair obscuring the view of her pale face. She still had that smile on her face, she looked peaceful...

“I’m sorry...” Chiara sobbed, now hugging friends lifeless body. ”I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just... Daphne, why..? I'm sorry...” Jae knelt next to her, softly petting her back. He too didn’t know what to say. Daphne had been a dear friend to him too, even though he knew what she felt for his wife. She had promised him that she would never make a move on her, and all these years she hadn’t.

Everybody stood in silence, watching the scene. None of them could believe it. Daphne was really gone...

Unknowingly, Daphne had traded her life for Chiaras. Would she have regretted her actions? No. She had saved Chiara, her best friend, the person she cared about the most. She would not regret her action one single bit.

#practisemakesperfect #dark #death #hogwarts mystery #chiara lobosca #remus lupin #hphm #i dont know what I'm doing #battle of Hogwarts

6 notes · View notes