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artaxerxesthegreat · 3 years ago

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For You- Part 2

Demetri x F!Reader

A/N: Wanted to make a oneshot, ended up making a 2 parter.

Warnings: Reader is female, she/her pronouns used, some language used, NO MINORS PLEASE, vampire reader, mentions of anxiety, burnout, google translate, pining, slowish burn

SMUT WARNING: SMUT! Baby’s first smut piece, dom/sub (?), soft Demetri (?), penetrative sex, masturbation (f), uhm cream pie? I guess

A/N 2: I was freaking out the whole time I wrote the smut portion of this so idk what all the warnings are, I’m sorry 😣!

I only own Louis and Ishtar.

Word count: 7K

Recap

“Are you sure you want to leave the Volturi, Y/N?”

“Yes, Louis, it wasn’t the best experience in the world. Plus I missed you guys!”

“…Very well, Y/N.”

——————

—3 weeks ago on the plane; 2022—

That was the end of that conversation and I still don’t know why everyone was asking about whether or not I wanted to leave Italy. Sure I was depressed when I got home, everything seemed a bit duller, empty, and quieter, but I welcomed it. Plus it wasn’t like I was never going to go back, I found myself getting anxious every time it was time to go for our yearly visit. I would spend most of my free time with Felix in the training room, which meant I would see Demetri. We never really spoke, but we did spare- just to make sure I wasn’t slacking off. Once he saw my skill was pretty much the same he would excuse himself and it’d just be Felix and myself.

I asked Felix why he always did that, but all Felix would say is, “You should ask him.”

No help at all!

I feel the plane make it’s descent and I let out a sigh as I prepare myself for the ‘time of my life’.

After the drive we are presented to the Kings who welcome us with a meal waiting.

“Ah, our guest of honor is finally here! My dear Y/N, how are you?” He holds his hand out to me smiling brightly.

“Pretty good. And you?” I hold my hand out but pause, he tilts his head in confusion, “So, like, there might… maybe, be some things in here that aren’t… nice.” He keeps his face the same as I sigh, giving up completely, “I was talking mad shit about you, bro. You have been warned.”

“You wish to be paid?”

“Oh, no that- that was a total joke-”

“Hmm, you have done a lot for us, you should be rewarded for all your time, effort and patience with us. I know it wasn’t easy teaching certain members.” He sends a glance to the twins who glare at me.

“Ah, shit. They’re gonna make my stay here a living hell.”

“They will do no such thing.” Aro pats my hand reassuringly, turning to Jane and Alec, “Leave her be.”

“…Yes, Master Aro.” They say in unison.

“So creepy.”

“The magic of twins.”

“What?” I look down at our hands, “Oh, right. You’d think I’d be used to this.”

“One would think.” He smirks, releasing my hand. “Now, you all must be hungry from your trip, come eat.”

“You are most gracious, Aro.” Louis steps forward as we watch the small group of humans be ushered into the room.

“I’m not really hungry.” I step back as flashes of blood spraying all over Caius fills my mind, “I’ll eat later, if that’s alright. I kinda want to get started on upgrading your systems.”

“There will be plenty of time for that later, for now just relax, and feast.”

“Why don’t you take it to-go?” Ishtar snickers as the humans slowly realize something isn’t quite right, “They look ready to run anyway.”

“Ha ha, Ish.” I give her a flat look, shaking my head, “Enjoy, I’ll just be up in my room.”

“Very well, Y/N.” There’s disappointment in Aro’s face, but he lets me leave.

As the doors close I can hear the sounds of screams and make eye contact with the secretary, “Party animals.”

She just smiles at me as I move towards the elevator. As the doors are about to close, a hand stops them, looking up at the person I’m filled with anxiety as I see that it’s Demetri. He pushes a human woman into the elevator, with his signature stoic face as I stop her from falling. He pushes the ‘close door’ button, never breaking eye contact with me until the doors shut.

“What the fuck.” I hold the sobbing woman in my arms as she has a mental breakdown, “Guess I’m eating in my room?”

I walk her to my room once we exit the elevator and let her sit down on the couch by the window. I hand her a glass of water as she stares off into a void, “Great, she’s broken. Whatever.” Sinking my teeth into her she lets out a stared gasp and then a soft scream as I feed on her. Draining her I let her body gently lay down on the couch as I start to unpack my things.

A few hours later, Felix opens my door laughing at the dead woman on my couch.

“What?” I snap playfully at him as he stands over the woman.

“You must be the only vampire who finishes a meal, and lays them down as if they’re sleeping.”

“Eh, she helped me, I let her look peaceful. Just cuz I’m a monster doesn’t mean I have to act like one.” I smirk, handing him a wrapped up box.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a Happy-all-the-holidays-and-your-birthday present!” Smiling brightly up at him, he just turns the box over in his hand, “Say thank you and get out, Felix.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Laughing, he gives me a hug and takes the body out with him.

Laying down on my bed I hear a knock on my door, “Come in.”

“Hey,Y/N.”

“Heidi, what’s up?” I lean on my arms trying to hide my smile.

“Where’s my gift?”

“Gift? What gift?” I play dumb as she playfully glares at me, “Alright, alright, geez. Here you go, let me know if you need help setting it up.”

“Thank you, lovely!” She holds her new phone package close as she gives me a hug.

“No problem. Oh can you give these to Jane and Alec, please? I’d rather avoid them for a while.” I pass her their phones, “Plus, they’re already programmed so they shouldn’t have any problems.”

“I think I can do that.” She sends me a wink walking out of the room.

“Alright, I just need to give the rest of the guard their new tech, have a meeting so they know how to use it, block out time to set up a new router, get them the secretary a new monitor, and delete the huge digital footprint they’re all gonna make because of Ishtar.” Pulling off my sweater I slip it on putting on a headband, “Time to go to work.”

. . . . . . . . .

“I knew I’d find you here.” Ishtar chimes as she stands over me while I try not to rip the wires I’m tangled in in the maintenance room.

“I hate this, Ish. I thought this was going to be easier- I had a plan! SEE!” I hold up my planner covered in yellow, blue, pink highlighter, “Everything was laid out, but of course it wasn’t going to be this easy- of course some of these people had to make this as difficult as possible! Like, what do you mean you don’t know how to turn on your phone?! I gave you a pamphlet! Now, I have to make a detailed presentation about the inner workings of every phone here, get a new server up and running, do an overhaul on the computers, finish building the mainframe for all the laptops, rewire their network, clean up their digital footprint, install cameras for the tours, AND THEN! Take a look at all of their vehicles, because we don’t need to contribute to the destruction of the ozone.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a lot. Here, stop moving.” She begins carefully pulling the wires off of me helping me calm down, “When do you have to have all this done?”

“I was hoping to be done by the end of the week, but I think it’s gonna be at LEAST 3 weeks!” I sigh heavily rubbing my temples, “I’m sorry, you guys don’t have to stay that long, but it’s gonna take time.”

“Hey, hey, Y/N it’s fine. We’ll stay for as long as it takes. I know you don’t like being here for long… maybe we can have a girl’s night and go out on the town?” Ishtar sits down next to me holding my hands in hers, “Take a small break before you jump back into this.”

“I- I can’t- it sounds great, but I need to get this done!”

“Y/N, you know you can’t finish projects properly when you’re this stressed.” I shrink under her gaze.

“I- I… I know. BUT!”

“Stop.”

“…okay.”

“Just take a break, make smaller plans for each day- don’t overwork yourself. You may be a vampire, but you look like you need a nap, you have bags under your eyes… how is that even possible?” She leans forward taking in the dark color under my eyes, “There must be something more, what else is bothering you?”

“Nothing.” She gives me a look and I sigh, shagging my shoulders, “I just- it- it… I don’t really know when it started happening, but lately it’s… it feels like it’s getting harder and harder for me to leave this place. Every year we come here, stay for a day or two and go back home- but over the years our stays have been longer and longer, and each time it’s getting difficult for me to leave. I don’t know why! I hate this place, so why do I feel like staying?! Fuck! We were here three times last year for a week and a half! WHY?!” Feeling venom pool in my eyes I let out a frustrated growl covering my face with my hands. Ishtar just sighs hugging me, “What's wrong with me?”

“Nothing, nothing is wrong with you, little sister. Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“I don’t want to.” I mumble into her shoulder.

“Too bad.” She laughs pulling me up with her. Groaning, I get up and walk around the castle with her. It proves to be a good idea and my mind feels less stressed, until we start walking towards the training room. The sounds of grunts, and skin cracking brings flashbacks to my mind, making me flatter in my steps.

“Let’s go back, Ish.” I mumble trying to pull her back, she gives me one strong tug forward as we stand in the doorway.

Looking in, we see that a few of the lower guard are fighting Demetri one-to-three, and they seem to be losing. Felix gives us a nod before turning his attention back to the fight; one of the guards seems ambitious and charges at Demetri. He tries to tackle him, but Demetri slams his elbow in the guard's back, catches him before he hits the floor and throws him over his shoulder- not once did he take his eyes off of the other two. Both were unnerved by this, but they know backing out isn’t an option, they spread out trying to see if they can attack him from both sides. It seemed like a good plan, but Demetri was two steps ahead of them and they’re laying on their backs groaning in pain as Demetri shakes his head in disappointment.

“That was pitiful.” Ishtar mumbles to me.

“It was.” I nod my head glancing at Felix.

“Why don’t you show them how it’s done then?” My eyes snap to Demetri who stands tall staring me down. A few seconds go by before I register that he is in fact talking to me, and I stumble over my words looking to Felix for help. He doesn’t help me- jerk.

“O- oh, I have work to do- I sho- uld- should go-” Taking some steps back I avoid eye contact, “Go- go do that- who else can? So, b-bye-”

“Come here.” His words automatically make me stop everything. He has this knack for making commands sound like threats, I don’t know how he does it, but all his words to me seem like he’s at the end of his rope and if I don’t listen- well, it won’t be good.

Giving Ishtar a pleading gaze, she gestures with her eyes for me to go to him. I nod my head at him, walking past the guards. They exchange looks of confusion and annoyance, but these guys weren’t around for my training my first year here.

I may not look like much, but I was personally trained by Felix and Demetri, and they made it their mission to make sure I knew what to do in tough situations- even if I am scarred for life.

Taking my position on the mat, we stand in silence as I take a few seconds to get into the right headspace. Rolling my shoulders back I never take my eyes off of Demetri.

“No way I’m getting slammed into again… a least, not like that-”

Demetri tilts his head at the sudden look of bewilderment on my face, I hold a hand up to him.

“Sorry, I was… thinking…ignore me, just- forget it, forget it. Let’s just get this over with.” Fixing my stance we wait for the other to make the first move. Squinting his eyes at me in challenge, I remain in my spot. I give him a look of my own and he looks at me with mild shock.

“What are they doing?” Ishtar’s voice is full of concern and confusion as she leans towards Felix.

“I think they’re making faces at each other.” One of the guards whispers to her.

“Why?” Another asks, clutching their arm.

“I have no idea, why don’t you go and ask?”

“I’m alright.”

“They do this every time.” Felix closes his eyes, sighing annoyedly at us, “Will one of you move?!” We both shoot Felix a glare for interrupting our silent conversation. Rolling his eyes, he throws his hands up walking out of the training room.

“Where are you going?” Ishtar runs after Felix momentarily taking my attention, and a blur of black and blonde rushes towards me.

“Shit!” I barely dodge Demetri’s punch, feeling the air brush past my nose. Losing my footing, I tumble backwards and duck under the kick coming my way. “Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit!”

Trying to put distance between us, proves to be fruitless as he keeps doing something that has me moving closer to him rather than moving away. He has complete control over the fight and I’m just moving where he wants.

The guards watch in awe as we throw punch after punch, kick after kick, and still manage to miss each other by a hair’s breadth. I know that if I’m not careful he will find an opening and I’ll either be slammed into a wall and pinned, or slammed into the mat and then pinned- either way that isn’t an ideal position to be in.

“Well… it depends really. Who doesn’t like to be pinned down every once and a while?” Unbeknownst to me I smirk at the thought in my head and this seems to distract Demetri, because his movements start to become sloppy, “What the hell was that? Is he going easy on me or something?”

“Stop smirking!” He sends a front kick towards my chest, but I catch his foot and flip him backwards. Much to my annoyance he lands gracefully.

“I’m not!” Finally, I’m able to create that distance between us. I watch on, as he breathes heavily with pitch black eyes boring into my red ones.

“Sai esattamente cosa mi stai facendo, cuore mia.” He pants out.

“I don’t speak Italian, Demetri! If you’re gonna insult me, do it in a language I know!” I yell, taking a step towards him.

"Mi insulti, non ricambiando i miei affetti." He glares at me, taking his own step forward. I don’t know why, but I’m not scared anymore.

I’m too angry to be scared.

“Good god, man. I can’t stand you!” I throw my hands up, giving up completely, “I don’t even live here, but you still manage to make this the most unbearable experience ever for me! I hate coming here because of you!”

I look at him with so much anger that I almost missed the flash of pain that crosses his face as he lets out a small gasp. Instant regret fills my body as I try to take back my words, but he just growls at me and leaves the training room as if he’s on fire.

After a few seconds of silence I look at the three guards, “What the fuck was that?!”

They mumble out ‘I don’t know’ and awkwardly leave the room with faces of embarrassment as if they just saw something they shouldn’t have. Shaking my head I sit on the mat holding my head in my hand, “I want to go home.”

—Present Day—

After that incident, the next two weeks were trying for everyone. It felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around us. If I entered a room that had small conversations going on and Demetri was there, everyone would grow quiet and just watch us- waiting for something to happen.

Nothing ever did. Whichever one of us would enter a room inhabited by the other, we’d just walk right out, but not before locking eyes with one another.

It started to unnerve me that I started to only venture out of my room to work on certain projects, but thanks to this new digital age I can work wherever I want.

Ishtar would try to bring me out, but that was short lived when Demetri was walking through the hallway and we made eye contact. I turned right back around and into my room locking my door.

By the second week, Heidi was apparently getting annoyed and managed to get me out of my room. I would just stare off in space wherever she placed me and he would walk in, not noticing my presence right away. But when he did he’d stare back with this look on his face; like he wanted to say something, but then would leave instead. I’ve just stopped trying to look hopeful for some kind of response and just go back to what I’m doing.

For the past week, Heidi has been trying to get me to talk to him, but I have nothing to say- I mean, I should apologize but he needs to too! It’s his fault!

This whole thing has pushed my work back so much that Ishtar and Louis are leaving today. I want to go with them, but I can’t, not until I finish with the upgrades.

A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts,

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, come in, Ish.”

“How’re you doin, sis?” She asks, leaning on my door with sad eyes. I don’t reply, just raise a brow at her and she sighs giving me a small smile, “You want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? You guys are leaving today and I’m stuck here until I finish my work. Pretty straightforward.” Laying on my stomach, I fold my arms under my chin, staring at the floor.

“I meant about what’s bothering you.” She closes the door and lays next to me on my bed.

“That is what’s bothering me.”

“I mean what’s ACTUALLY bothering you.”

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turn my head away from her, knowing she’s not buying it. She doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently for me to open up. Groaning I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling, “It’s Demetri, I said something to him in the training room and now I feel bad- but I can’t talk to him because he leaves every room I enter, but I also don’t want to apologize because what is said is true!… So now we just avoid each other. I thought that would be a good thing, finally free of my personal torturer, but now… I can’t… I want-…” I cover my eyes with my arm struggling to find the right words. Ishtar gently pats my arm making me look at her.

“Do you like him?”

“Oh, yeah, Ishtar!” I deadpan, “I like the guy who made my first year as a vampire a living hell! Can’t get enough of him! Seriously, Ish?!”

“I’m being serious, Y/N. Do you like him? If you exclude all of the negatives, how do you really feel about Demetri?”

Opening my mouth I find that I have no words. Closing my mouth I try to think about what she just asked. She pats my arm smiling, leaving me to my thoughts, “Just talk to him, I know one place he’d never walk out of.”

I send her a questioning look at her smiling face, “Where?”

“Come with me.” Getting up quickly I follow her to the Elite Guards wing. We pass Jane’s room, Alec’s room, and stop at Felix’s door. Knocking lightly, he opens it with a quirked brow.

“Yes?”

“Estne in cubiculo suo?” Ishtar points down the hall, causing Felix to lean out and look in that direction. Glancing back at us, something seems to click and he just smiles sweetly and nods.

“What language was that? What’s going on? Why is he smiling like that?” I ask as Ishtar pulls me behind her, I shoot Felix a glance and he just shrugs his shoulders innocently. We stop in front of Demetri’s door and before I can protest, Ishtar knocks with three strong raps.

The door opens revealing a very annoyed Demetri and before anyone can say anything she shoves me hard into his arms, slamming the door closed. We don’t move, trying to process what just happened.

“…what?” I breathe out moving away from him to the door. I tug open the door only for it to be slammed again, “ISHTAR, WHAT THE FUCK!? OPEN THE DOOR!”

“NOT UNTIL YOU TWO SPEAK TO EACH OTHER!”

“ISHTAR!” I start rattling the knob debating on breaking it down.

“TELL HER, DEMETRI!”

“This is not your concern.” Demetri’s voice is calm despite the anger brewing on his face.

“CLEARLY IT IS!” Ishtar snaps back, “The both of you are being ridiculous and you need to explain why she feels so drawn to this place- AND SAY IT IN ENGLISH!”

Demetri scoffs in annoyance at her words as I lightly bang my forehead on the door. It becomes quiet- minus my head thumps- and I hear Ishtar leave the door, walking back down the hallway. I wait a bit before opening the door to leave, relief fills my body as I move to walk out, but I feel a hand on my waist, gently pulling me back in the room and the door is pushed close- I’ve never felt so pitiful, but I’m 99% sure I pouted watching the door close before I could be on the other side.

Neither of us move, or say anything as Demetri wraps his arms around my waist. I wish I could say something, but I’m so confused and lost about the whole situation I just stand there. I feel him press his nose into my hair and that’s when I pull myself away from him.

“What are you doing?” I point an accusing finger at him glaring at his sullen face, “What the heck was that?! Did you just really- no, there’s no way you just did what I think you did.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Why do I- Well for one, you hate me! And for two, you HATE me!”

“I could never hate you.”

“You-” I stare at him wide eyed, mouth agape in disbelief, blinking quickly I rip him a new one, “You made my life a living hell! You and your endless training sessions, flipping me, throwing me, tossing me like I’m a sack of potatoes! Slamming me into walls or the floor! Pinning me down and then threatening me endlessly!” He winces at my words, “Trying to alienate me from Felix! Avoiding me as much as you could! Being annoyed by my very existence! YOU HATE ME! Not once have you ever said a kind thing to me!”

“That’s not true-”

“It ISN’T?! WHAT, SO YOU’RE GONNA GASLIGHT ME NOW?!”

“No I-”

“SHUT UP!” He snaps his mouth shut looking at the floor and I don’t know how to describe how powerful that made me feel. I was caught off guard by my own words, that silence fills the space as I try to regain my train of thought, “I just want to know why. Why do you hate so much?”

He slowly lifts his eyes and I feel something inside me twist with pain. His expression is so solemn and full of regret that I feel like giving him a hug and never letting go, pushing that strange feeling down, I wait for an answer.

“…I…I am sorry. You must understand-”

“-I must?” He gives me a look and I motion for him to continue, “Sorry.”

“You must understand that I was not expecting to ever see you.”

“…What?”

“You are something of a myth for me, I never in my entire existence thought I’d ever meet you, and when I did, I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Did Heidi ever explain to you what ‘mates’ are?”

“As in friends?”

“No.”

“Uh, then I’m not sure. Maybe, I was always stuck on ‘we can’t go out in the sun.’ Are ‘mates’ a part of the rules?”

“No.”

“Oh, then no. She never explained that.”

“Dannazione, Heidi.” He sighs out, dragging his hand down his face, “Essentially they are life partners, soulmates of sorts, it’s rumored that every vampire has one, but you may never meet them. They are very rare.”

“Ooookay…?” He doesn’t say anything else and I just wait for more explanation. Sighing, I go over everything he’s said so far and it hits me like a ton of bricks, “Oh, shit. You… and me…? No. There is no way.” Not saying anything he takes a few choice steps towards me, holding his arms out to me. Freaking out I step away from him, smacking his arms away, “N- no, don’t do that. You can’t just- you can’t-”

“Y/N, please.”

My body stills at him saying my name for the first time, he says it with such sincerity, compassion and love, I stare up at him terrified. His expression is soft, while I’m freaking the fuck out; I’m backed into the wall, but he still gives me space to breathe.

“You can’t just drop a bombshell like that, and expect everything to be okay!” My voice sounds so broken as I slide down the wall, defeated. He bends down on one leg, resting his hands on his knee, nodding at me.

“I know, but I didn’t know any other way to say this- I haven’t known for the past 30 years…” I just look at him dumbfounded as he furrows his brow searching for the right words to say, “I was blindsided when I saw you for the first time. You looked so scared and confused, it made me wonder if you knew about us at all-”

“-I didn’t.” I huff out a laugh remembering when I woke up three days after Louis bit me, “I was so confused, but everything made sense after that… kind of.”

He smiles gently, sitting with his arms loosely draped on his knees, we both relax a bit and I mirror his posture.

“I’m sure it was not what you were expecting.” I shake my head and allow him to continue, “You weren’t what I was expecting… actually, no one was expecting you, if I’m being honest. But you were a quick learner and even though you drove everyone up the walls, you were never cross with anyone. You had very little fear of making your thoughts known, and I admire that about you… You did have me worried for you though.”

“Why?”

“You… You were very clumsy the first few years, and I feared for your safety- that is why I was so hard on you during training. I also knew you wanted to leave, and I didn’t know how to deal with that- you never stopped talking about how wonderful Ishtar and Louis are that I felt… I felt…” His voice grows soft as his eyes become distant with venom pooling inside them.

“Demetri?” I try to get him to look at me, but he covers his face in his hands, shaking his head. Moving to sit on my knees, I pull his hands from his face, and the sight breaks my heart, “Oh, Demetri.”

I cradle his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs on his cheeks; closing his eyes he gathers himself placing his hands over mine, “I felt… like I would never be able to match up to them, and if I were to ask you to stay, your life would be miserable… I would never be able to make you happy, and you would just leave me in the end, resenting me for depriving you of real and true happiness… or… finding someone who could do a better job than me.”

“…So… to avoid that you thought it’d be a good idea to be a total dick to me, instead of just talking with me?”

“Foolish, I know.” He pushes his face further in my hands, pouting as he looks at the floor.

“…You know… It’s hard to be mad at you when you look so adorable.” I give him a lopsided smile making him cast his eyes to the side smiling bashfully, “Oh gods, stop it, Demetri! Now I’m going to hate you for a different reason- for being so fucking cute. Asshole.”

He lets out a laugh apologizing, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I’m afraid it comes with the territory, cara mia.”

“Jerk.” I smirk, squishing his face playfully. It’s my turn to laugh at his sound of surprise at my actions, “Sorry, not sorry hashtag.”

“Doesn’t the hashtag come before the words?”

I let out a gasp, throwing my arms around to hug him. There was a bit of force behind the hug and we ended up falling over, “You showed up to the presentation!”

“Of course I did.” He carefully hugs me back, not sure if he should, “I was there every year.”

I squeeze him tighter, shutting my eyes, thankful I can’t cry anymore.

“Y/N?” He pulls us up to sit again.

“Hmm?” Worry starts to fill me, thinking I’ve crossed a line, but he shakes his head cupping my face in his hand. Instinctively, my head turns in his hand.

“Can you ever forgive this foolish vampire, for every missed opportunity and cruel thing he’s done to you the past 30 years- all because he was afraid?” He asks with a hopeful face, but there’s fear and desperation hiding in his expression.

Now, I could’ve been a nice person and said, “~Oh, yes! Of course, my Demetri! I can forgive you until the sun burns out and nothing you can do will ever make me think ill of you!~” But he made my life miserable for 30 years, so I think I’m entitled to some compensation.

So, as a few seconds go by and I haven’t said anything, his hopeful face is slowly turning apprehensive; and it brings me great joy and peace of mind- I also feel like a piece of shit, but it was worth it!

I can’t stop the smile that comes to my face, and he doesn’t stop the scoff at my dig at him, “Yeah, it sucks when someone’s a dick to you.”

“I will admit I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” I nod, holding his hand to my cheek, “But you aren’t off the hook. Not even close.”

“What must I do to have your forgiveness?” He tilts his head, giving me his undivided attention. He’s so keen on what I have to say he brings his face closer to me, and it gets hard to think, “Name it, and I will do it- whatever it takes.”

The glint in his eyes holds my attention, the way his lips are slightly parted waiting to agree to whatever I say. The messiness of his hair from when I tackled him with my impromptu hug.

“Cara mia? Y/N, are you alright?”

His scent invades my senses, clouding my mind with less than pure thoughts; his attentive attitude turns to one of concern at my lack of response. He begins caressing my cheek, leaning closer as he does. My brain feels fuzzy and slow as my eyes travel down to his lips.

“Y/N?”

Removing my hand from his, I place them on the lapels of his coat pulling him closer. Placing my forehead against his, I close my eyes taking in the closeness of him, and his scent. Brushing my nose against his, his breath hitches at the action and neither of us move. Opening my eyes slightly, I see his eyes are hooded and pitch black, as he makes the first move. Tilting his head to the side, bringing his lips to hover over my own, almost timidly. I go the rest of the way, feeling his lips on mine- melting any doubts or fears either of us have.

He lets out a soft sigh wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me closer; the kiss deepens as I push him down to the floor straddling him, not once breaking the kiss. Carding my fingers in his hair, I give it a light tug causing him to squeeze my waist, pulling back I nip his bottom lip, making him moan and the sound is intoxicating.

Sitting up, I roll my hips against his, feeling his erection underneath me; leaning back down I capture his lips with mine, his hands find their way under my shirt, and quickly catching them I sit back up. He has a look of uncertainty thinking he may have done something to upset me, but it’s soon lust filled at my words,

“Oh, you don’t get to touch; I do.”

His mouth hangs open as I stand up and undress myself- he swallows thickly as I straddle him again and begin to grind on his pants. He places his hands on my thighs urging me to go faster, but I keep my same pace, I trail my hand down my front to my core and begin pleasuring myself. He screws his eyes shut, letting out a whine at the lack of skin to skin contact. Sucking on my teeth I grab his face with the hand I was using to please myself, making him look at me.

“I didn’t say you could look away.”

“I-’

“-I didn’t say you could talk either.” I taunt, putting my fingers in his mouth, “Suck.”

He does as he is told, letting out a breathy moan, he keeps his eyes on me, gasping as I roll my hips against him. Taking my fingers out of his mouth, I trail them down his chin to his neck, down his clothed chest back to my pearl. My hips start to spasm as I feel pleasure building inside me, Demetri bucks his hips up suddenly making me gasp out at the action,

“Don’t.” I warn, but he fixes me with an impish grin doing it again. I brace myself on his chest not being able to stop the moan that comes from me. Feeling his hand on my neck, he pulls me closer whispering in my ear,

“How can I not, when you use me so well.” A small whimper escapes me as I rub myself faster at his words, “Imagine how you would feel with all of me.”

My head rests against his as I try to have some composure, but he lightly runs his hands over my back, making me arch my back at the feathery touch, “D-Demetri.”

“Yes?”

I growl at the cocky tone of his voice- he knows what he’s doing and it’s irksome. He lets out a breathy chuckle rolling his hips up making me stutter in my movements, gripping my hips he keeps the pace going. Turning my face in his neck, my moans turn into pleads as I feel myself getting closer to my release.

“What is it, Cara mia? Tell me what you need, and I will let you have it.”

I bit my tongue in defiance as he is now- somehow- in control. He halts all movement making me hiss at him, laughing, he looks at the anger and lust in my face, “Oh, did you not want me to stop?”

Growling, I rip open his shirt- much to his amusement- and rip off his belt, tossing it somewhere in the room. Grabbing my hands, he turns us over, hovering over me; with one hand he holds me in place, while he undoes his pants with the other. My chest is moving up and down as I take breaths that aren’t needed, and he shamelessly watches as he rubs himself against my core. Thrusting my hips up, he chuckles, leaning down to bite my neck causing me to whimper.

“Such a needy little thing you are.”

“D-Demetri… please.”

“Please, what?” He leaves open mouth kisses on my neck and collarbone stopping at my breast, hovering over my hard nipple. He lets out a ‘Tsk’ sound at the lack of response, taking my nipple in his mouth, lightly grazing his teeth over it. Gasping at the sensation, my back arches off of the floor, his free hand massages the other making me a whimpering mess as he locks eyes with me. Moving back to my face he bumps his nose with mine smiling as he raises a brow at me, “Please. What, Y/N?”

“…I can’t think.”

“Hmmm, perhaps we should stop then.” His hold on my hands loosens as he pulls away from me. Grabbing his hands, I turn us over, glaring darkly at him.

“Don’t you dare.”

He meets my dark gaze with a triumphant smile, taking his hands out of my hold, he places them on my hips, lifting me up, aligning himself to my core. Slowly, he fills me up to the brim allowing me to adjust to his size; my eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him inside me.

“Gods, you are beautiful.” I feel my walls clench at his words, causing us to moan out together. Placing his hand on my stomach he pushes me back slightly “Look at how well you take me.”

I shudder at his words whimpering again as my walls clench around him, “Please, Demetri. I- I can’t-”

He shushes me gently, pulling me close to him, “I know. We will work on it.” He thrusts up panting out, “We have all eternity.”

I become a moaning mess as he snaps his hips up at a frantic pace. I can feel his ball sack hitting my ass, causing me to push against his thrusts. Our breathy moans fill the room along with the sound of skin hitting skin; the rhythm is all but lost as we both near our peak. Gripping my hip with one hand, he pulls me down by my neck kissing me sloppily as my nerves feel like they’re on fire.

“Demetri.” I mewl out as my muscles tighten.

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

My walls spasm and contract, making me see stars and collapse on top of him. Holding me close he thrusts a few more times before he says my name like a prayer as he spills himself inside me. I whimper at the feeling hiding my face in his neck, we lay on the floor for a few moments before I pull myself up, looking down at a blissed out Demetri. My arousal is building back at the look on his face, but before anything can happen there’s a knock on the door making us jump slightly.

“Glad you guys are having sex, but Y/N, Louis and I would like to go home now. Can you come say goodbye please?”

I groan, slumping down on Demetri at the sound of Ishtar’s voice; he holds me close laughing as he sits us up.

“She has no shame.” He quips kissing my nose.

“None what so fucking ever.” I glare at the door as she begins knocking over and over again.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N/ Y/N/N, I know you hear me cuz I can hear you- hell, we all heard you.”

“Come, cara mia, before she opens the door.”

“This bitch.” I grit my teeth getting off of Demetri.

“She already came! The fuck are you guys doing in there?” Ishtar gasps from the other side of the door.

“ISHTAR!!”

Demetri laughs as helps me get dressed, pulling me close he kisses me, “We can continue once she leaves.”

“… You sure? I mean you don’t have to.”

“Oh, cara mia, I’m far from done with you.” Leaning his forehead against mine he adds, “I have 30 years of pleasure to catch up on.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I pull him close, kissing him deeply, nipping his lip as I pull back.

“You’d really do that? For me?”

“For you, I will do that and much more.” He leans down and I wait ready to kiss him again when it’s interrupted by Felix.

“Did he tell her he made her the sweater yet?”

“Nope!”

I look up at Demetri shocked as he avoids my eyes bashfully, “You made the sweater for me?”

“Yes.”

Crashing my lips against his he holds my waist tightly mumbling, “Y/N, your sister is waiting.”

“Let her.”

He smiles into the kiss walking us to his bed and the faintest ‘rude’ is heard as we start round 2.

The End (kinda sucks I’m sorry)

——————

Tag: @aquanova99

——————

Sai esattamente cosa mi stai facendo, cuore mio. =

You know exactly what you are doing to me, my heart

Mi insulti, non ricambiando i miei affetti. = You insult me, by not returning my affections.

Estne in cubiculo suo? = Is he in his room? (Latin)

Dannazione, Heidi = Dammit, Heidi

#fanfiction #demetri volturi #demetri #twilight fic #Volturi fic #Demetri x reader #x reader #Demetri Volturi x reader #for you part 2 #smut #MDNI #no minors allowed #spicy

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voidcat · 4 years ago

Text

— take me home

Characters: Dazai Osamu/gn!reader (+agency members)

Genre & wc: fluff — 1.9k

a/n: happy Valentine’s Day!!! Normally I was gonna make this one big thing but my writing style for all this so far and “the second part” don’t carry the same vibe. (Also it was getting v long) Anyways, enjoy. I still suck at naming fics. — part 2 !!

“You could feel the bomb going off and suddenly-“ Doctor Yosano stops looking at the clock, “Oh it’s been that long already? I shouldn’t keep you waiting for any longer” she motions with her hand to you with a smile.

“It’s alright, I enjoy hearing your stories.” You smile back. “If it’s alright with you and no new cases show up, would you like the finish the story tomorrow at my place? Maybe over a cup of tea or a glass of wine?”

The glint in her eyes tell you the answer long before. “Only if the infamous pastries Ranpo cannot get enough of are there!” Yosano says with enthusiasm and all you can do is nod and share the excitement.

As she proceeds to get her coat and bag, you decide to wait until you hear someone else speak up.

“I thought you didn’t like to have people over?” Atsushi asks standing behind you with a stack of papers and files.

Eyes closed, you hum “True, true… But I make an exception for some, dear. Where did you think we baked all those for Kyouka?”

Stopping for a second to recall that day Atsushi scratches his head. The moment of realization comes to him fast, apparent from the sudden change of expression and the wide smile on his face “Oh! You’re-“

“I thought you didn’t allow anyone in the kitchen!” Ranpo exclaims rather loudly, slamming the newspaper he was reading moments ago onto his table.

Tilting back and forth from where you’re standing and occasionally looking for Yosano to come back, you turn to where his voice came from. “That rule only applies to you, I’m afraid. No matter what an amazing detective you are, cooking and baking simply aren’t your forte.” With one hand in the air as if offering the plainest of truths, you say.

“However you’re still my most trusted taster, so please don’t make that face?” You finish with an apologetic smile and hearing a low rumble coming from him, you let out a breath thinking you’re off the hook.

You thought wrong.

As Yosano’s heels clank against the surface, you can feel a persistent gaze on your back, already sensing what’s to come next. Before you can make an attempt to the door however, Dazai announces your name, in a whine no less, coming a little too closer than you expected right behind your ear.

Slowly turning back to see his smug face, right in your personal space just as you guessed, you refrain from rolling your eyes. “What was it Dazai? Is something the matter?”

Coming all the way from wherever he was previously , he couldn’t be here now for anything other than to bother you. You just hoped Yosano would show up and drag you away before your patience was tested again.

Raising his arm and resting the back of his hand against his forehead, eyes closed and mouth open, as if a he were a character straight out of a tragedia, Dazai opts for the dramatic route. “Yes! I’ve just been informed of horrifying news!”

“Which is?..” you leave the statement unfinished, already knowing what’s to come.

“That you never invited me over to your house! And we’ve been friends for the longest time! What our live have come to, have we driven so far away from ea-“

“Enough with the antics Dazai, we’re busy, can’t you see?” Your savior, Yosano cuts in putting a hand over your shoulder. Turning to look at her, you mouth a ‘thank you.’, and you think she has never looked as beautiful as she does in this moment now, with the golden sun behind her setting, the lights illuminating her face, making her look like those heroes painted to be immortalized.

As you step out, you hear Yosano stop and say: “And for the record, I’ve known them the longest.”

The day spent with Yosano goes better than you could accept. By the end your face hurts from laughing, your stomach full from all the food and drinks you’ve consumed, times flies away like a plane and by the time Yosano makes way to the door, it’s dark and you’re both dragging your feet.

Despite the enjoyable day off, Dazai’s recent behavior starts to make you question if it was worth inviting her over so publicly.

At any chance he gets, he tries to get you to give away something about your location, who has been over before and how many times, what type of hosts you prefer and ‘oh maybe we never got the chance because of our schedules, you should invite me over some time’, ‘don’t be so shy, we’re friends after all! Oh is it your place you’re ashamed of? Worry not, I won’t judge!’, ‘hey are you free on a Thursday night?’s met with ‘No, I don’t want you over.’, ‘Yes, I have a very good reasoning.’ And almost a slip up of a ‘I’m free- Oh wait, I have a date with Sergio, sorry no can do!’.

For each cheeky smile he offers, you give back a grunt or a snarl, one time almost yelling right in front of the director and another time you stomp out of the office in fury while Atsushi watches in horror.

Fifth time of your hiding in the café and you find yourself wishing for a crisis to surface, the carefree Dazai to be replaced by the serious and logical man that manages to impress you no matter how hard the case, counter measure after counter measure, even if he takes reckless risks once in a while.

Inhaling the sweet smell of your tea before taking a sip, your wish seems to have come true partially, from the set of steps approaching you in a determined yet unrushed pace.

Taking a long sip, savoring the taste and the warmth of it, you slowly place the cup down and open your eyes to see Dazai standing in his neutral and calm state.

The two of you stay like that for a while, like a photograph, the café empty and the mixed smells of coffee and tea lingering in the air, not quite looking at one another but not dozed off either.

When he opens his mouth, it doesn’t feel like the moment has been broken, not even a clearing of throat or a quite mumbling under his breath beforehand, yet his voice flows along the smells despite the absurdity of the topic of conversation.

But you beat him to it. “If you’re going to be standing for so long, you might as well sit down.”

He settles down as you reach for your cup again.

“So, how are things with Sergio?” He says the name with a hint of hostility.

It takes everything in you not to spit out your tea laughing. “Sergio is a street cat I take care of.”

Composure and crossed arms off, Dazai’s eyes widen. “But- you said that-“ “A date with Sergio, yes, for his yearly check up at the vet.” You finish for him.

“That was just an excuse to get you to stop bothering me.” You add.

“Fair enough, I deserved that.” He chuckles “but you did mention you had a very good reasoning for not inviting me over. I know I pestered you enough about that…” he trails off, reaching for your hand with his. “And yet, would you be so kind to tell me why?” he asks, eyes locked into yours.

“My cat doesn’t like you.”

And this, you think, is the exact moment the atmosphere is ruined, the photograph ripped apart in the middle.

Dazai just stares at you, still holding your hand.

Blinking few times, rather unimpressed, you notice a waitress by the counter, probably there to rearrange something.

“Alright, I’ll be off now if that’s all!” You say a bit too cheerfully, pull your hand before Dazai can do anything, pay and leave as soon as you can.

Dazai just blinks, hands still in the air, stays frozen like that until Kunikida drags him back to work.

Bad decision after bad decision seems to follow you wherever you go because after that interaction at the café, it gets worse.

You thought Dazai was like a fruit fly before? It gets more irritating than an army of them. And on top of that, Kunikida scolds you to undo whatever you’ve done on Dazai, his already poor work ethics now on the floor, getting on Kunikida’s nerves and yours.

Hearing your name spreads terror in you now, the second your ears catch the familiar tone of Dazai’s voice, you fleet for your life.

Coming clean and explaining your statement from earlier would be the logical way to end this but fate disagrees as it laughs you in the face.

“Why wouldn’t your cat like me? I didn’t even step foot into your place before!”

“Hey Dazai, remember the day you wouldn’t get off my back? Trying to embrace at any chance and I gave up in the middle of the day at one point?” Resting his hand under his chin to think, as if his face doesn’t make it obvious he remembers the day crystal clear, he lets out a “hmm…”

With a snap of fingers and a “Ah! I remember now! You were so comfortable, I almost fell asleep.” He grins.

With a shake of your hand, trying to dismiss the memory of how he basically trapped you to the couch, you cough and continue. “That evening, when I got home, my clothes must have reeked of your smell.” He nods, good, so far he seems to follow. “My cat just sniffed the air once and stayed in the living room until I washed those clothes and took a bath.”

Hands resting on his hips, he keeps nodding and humming in understanding. “I see…”

You let out a breath, thank god it’s over.

“Nope! Still makes no sense.” Hs exclaims suddenly, turns away and leaves. You just stare at his back, now it’s your turn to blink in ‘unbelievable, is this real?’

The loud chatter and pestering doesn’t stop however and with each word, it gets more ridiculous.

“Is your cat perhaps jealous of me? That you secretly love me and they don’t want competition?”

“The cat is just another excuse, isn’t it! Admit it, you have a secret! It must be something you’re afraid I won’t like.”

“Is it Chuuya? Did you take pity and let him rent a room?”

“I don’t even know a Chuuya…”

“Maybe a weird collection…” he gasps and says your name. “Are you a hoarder? Is that why you won’t let me in? I told you already, I would never judge your lifestyle!”

“Dazai, please stop-“

“No, no, I got it this time. It’s a shrine of me! Isn’t it? Your face tells it all, it is a shrine! Ah, I must say I’m flattered, if not a little scared now.”

If anger could set a fire, you think Kunikida would be arrested of arson right now. You just rest your head in your palm, trying to ignore Dazai’s ongoing nonsense.

“Is there really a-“ Kenji begins a question as Ranpo ends it with a firm “Nope!”

Getting up from your place at last, you grab Dazai by his coat and drag him out.

“There is No shrine, no other human, no hoarding or weird collections. It’s just me and my cat who scrunches his nose when I bring home a file that sat in your desk all day!”

Before giving him a chance to reply, you walk away.

The next day, and many other days to follow, goes uneventful, Dazai’s never ending bickering about your house seems to have reached a stop. Everyone, especially Kunikida, enjoys the newly achieved peace of going back to normal. You hope this marks the end of this whole nonsense, and that the Dazai everyone knows with a little mix of annoying and impressively serious has returned back to his sense of regular.

Tags: @atsumusdomain @celosiiaa @ywanfen

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e350tb · 3 years ago

Text

The Owl House: A Blight on Gravesfield (Chapter Five)

Five

The sun rises over Gravesfield.

...so the first essay topic will be up online this afternoon. Now back to weird local myths!

In 1660, King Charles II was restored to the English throne, and the whole Civil War period came to a close. Sort of. There was still a lot of political and religious controversy in both the British Isles and in the colonies; but that’s mostly a topic for another course. We are going to be following the continuing adventures of the Wittebanes.

John died in 1672 of pneumonia, but before he did, he had a family house constructed on his estate; that house, the Historic Wittebane Home, is still, and access is free to all Gravesfield residents, so if you have some time it’s well worth a visit. Although it looks small and uncomfortable now, in the 1660s it was the height of colonial luxury.

John left his estate to his son, the confusingly named John Philip Wittebane. We’ll call him John Philip to avoid too much confusion. Before John Philip took over the estate, he had sailed both as a merchant and as a buccaneer in the Caribbean; we believe he sailed with Henry Morgan in the raid on Maracaibo in 1668-69. While there, he purchased investments in a number of industries, and while he divested from them when he returned to Connecticut to collect his inheritance, they had made him a very wealthy man.

He immediately put his wealth to use by buying up most of the small farmers around Gravesfield, and by 1690, it was reckoned that most people in Gravesfield were employed by him. It became effectively a Wittebane company town, with John Philip even serving as the city’s mayor several times.

This is where our next myth comes to play; that in 1687, John Philip Wittebane had a woman put to death for witchcraft, and that consequently, her ghost haunts the Historic Wittebane Home.

Now, I’m a historian, I can’t tell you ghosts are real. That’s a job for ghostbusters. But was a woman really hanged in Gravesfield for witchcraft, nearly twenty years after the end of the Connecticut Witch Trials?

The local newspaper tell us that on June 13th, 1687 - a Friday - a ‘vagrant, suspected by some of heresy and witchraft, was duly hanged by the magistrate on account of the cruel and vicious murder of Henry Finch, who had been struck down while attending the ‘pigges’ on the Wittebane estate.’ So we have a clear cause for the hanging, and a ‘suspicion of witchcraft,’ but we don’t have a connection.

Frustratingly, this newspaper doesn’t tell us how poor Henry Finch died. Was he cruelly hexed? Well, if we go digging about in the archives, we might find a different story…

----

A brisk and foggy dawn was breaking over Gravesfield.

Ben Frakes was not a man of means by any stretch of the imagination, and as he stepped out into the cold air, he wished he could afford a car. (Well, he could, but it was hard to justify the expense.) It had been an uncomfortable night. Life in his one-room apartment had its charms - chief among them proximity to the college - but on cold nights it could be miserable, especially when his radiator was still broken.

Still, he was in fairly good spirits. His course on Gravesfield’s myths, and the truths behind them, was going very well, and the students seemed engaged. And it was a very good time of year to be in the history business; the annual Gravesfield History Fair was coming up, something he always looked forward to. It was always a riot; apart from a small county fair, there would be historical talks and tours of the old battlefield and the Historical Wittebane Home, and even the yearly battle reenactment; one which Ben had taken part in every year for his whole time in Gravesfield.

He was always on the Redcoat side and therefore always lost, but having fun was the main thing. Even if it was a bit of historical revisionism on the part of the townsfolk.

He was just starting off down the sidewalk to the college grounds when he spied a rustling in the nearby bushes. For a moment, he was prepared to dismiss it as a rabbit or a bird, but then, to his astonishment, a little white head poked out.

“Is that a cat?” he asked himself.

Slowly and gently, he crept forward, leaning down behind the bush. The cat emerged, gently headbutting his outstretched hand.

“Hmm… too much grooming to be a feral,” mused Ben. “Have you gotten out of someone’s yard?”

Carefully, he picked up the cat.

“Am I gonna have to print out a wanted poster for you?” he asked, chuckling. “I’ve got some milk in my fridge, maybe… what the?”

His gaze turned to the cat’s paws. Just under one of the back paws, he could see a peculiar mark, almost like a lock. He frowned.

“That doesn’t look healthy,” he mused. “Okay, pre-class prep can wait, I think you need a vet.”

He started off in the direction of the vet. He wasn’t concerned about making it to his class; that was still hours away, and he’d been planning on spending the morning doing some marking. But that mark… cats did not have marks like that.

At least, not in his world.

----

Camila was not an oblivious woman, especially when it came to her daughter.

She had had some suspicions the night before; most people wouldn’t jump through a portal into the unknown to get their friend to help, after all. But things were messy and upsetting, and people did irrational things under stress, so she’d shelved that thought.

When she walked into her living room the next morning and found them sound asleep in each other’s arms - well, suffice it to say, her suspicions grew a bit.

When Luz eventually blinked open her eyes, she found her mother sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hand, smiling wryly down at her.

“Good friends, are you?” she asked.

Luz blinked, and then glanced over to Amity.

She yelped and pulled herself out of her friend’s arms, which in turn woke her up with a start. Both sat up, Luz turning bright red.

“What’s going on?” demanded Amity. “Are we being attacked?”

Camila took a sip of her tea.

“Don’t worry,” she replied. “If we are, I’m sure Luz is very well protected.”

“Mooo-oooom,” groaned Luz, burying her head in her hands as Amity turned red too.

“Uh, Ms. Noceda, it’s… I’m…” Amity scratched the back of her head. “Please don’t get mad, Luz…”

“Mad?” Camila tilted her head. “Why would I be mad?”

“I… um… I…” Amity stammered.

“I need to take a shower!” exclaimed Luz. “Far away from here! Goodbye!”

She darted off the inflatable mattress and out the door.

Amity buried her head in the blanket, moaning softly. Camila frowned, moving a little closer to her.

“Amity,” she asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Sure,” sighed Amity. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Camila reached down and put a hand on her shoulder. She was surprised to see Amity jolt away from her; her frown deepened.

“If you ever need to talk,” she said. “Just remember that I’m here.”

“Thanks,” replied Amity, looking away, “But I don’t think I will.”

She got up and walked away.

----

Luz spat her toothpaste out into the sink (she was surprised at how much better-tasting human toothpaste was than the stuff they used on the Isles, although it probably didn’t provide the same magical plaque protection) and washed her hands, whistling to herself. She didn’t know why - it wasn’t as though she was calm or cheerful - but perhaps music calmed the soul.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “Gotta go back to the historical society. Maybe there’s a lead to getting Amity home on that creepy curator guy’s conspiracy board… also wanna see if the bookstore’s still there. I think Amity would like it.”

She turned to the door and immediately froze.

Camila was leaning against the closed door, arms crossed.

“I think it’s time we talked, mija.”

Luz pursed her lips.

“...do we have to do it in the bathroom?”

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #camila noceda #vee #lumity #a blight on gravesfield #writing

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bluecatstory · 4 years ago

Text

The fortunate one - Chapter 2

The continuation & end to this. Thank you for reading!

Boy met a tea kettle genie. Unfortunately, this wish-granting genie did not get to grant a single wish. This is an AU 100% based on Neil Gaiman’s The October Tale. Also, the main pairing here is GoYuu (Gojo Satoru/Itadori Yuuji), so please click back if you don’t like it.

---

It was a lovely day for a stroll through the town. The weather was cool but fair, and green leaves flurried on the trees as the gentle breeze blew by.

People were out and about, scurrying with their life. But if you pay attention to the crowd, you would see a strange pair. A pink-haired boy was walking together with a tall, lanky man. The handsome man was still young, maybe in his 20s, but his hair was white from the roots. His outfit even made it stick out more, all black with sunglasses.

They were having a somewhat lively conversation.

“So tell me more about yourself, Yuuji. I want to get to know you more.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Your likes, dislikes, dreams, family, just anything!” Gojo grinned playfully. His current master of the tea kettle, by far, was the most intriguing. He wanted to know what kind of person was Yuuji Itadori, who claimed to be perfectly content with his life.

And Yuuji, like the honest boy he was, told Gojo of his family: his parents passed away in a car accident when he was just a toddler, how his gramps raised him by himself, and he also passed away recently, having left him the house. Yuuji told him about his job: how he was a kindergarten teacher who had gained his reputation among the school for cat drawings. He told him he also taught basic drawing at the local community once a week.

“Ah, but have you ever wished to be more than that? With your physique, you would make a great athlete. Or model! I mean, look at those legs.”

Red crept up his face. Yuuji smiled sheepishly.

“Thanks… I guess. But you know, I admit there were tough times. Imagine one accidentally smuggled candies in the class, and the whole 20 would go bonkers. And the parents would just scream at you for everything. But I’m making a difference in the kids’ life. Witnessing them discovering things and eagerly telling you about them. It’s rewarding, and I feel happy every day going to work. “

Yuuji’s smile was so beaming that Gojo felt blinded by it. Ok, so scratch work. He might need to dig into other areas.

“Now it’s your turn, Mr. Cryptic genie. Tell me more about yourself.”

“Hmm, you only need to know that I’m the strongest genie that can make your wish come true. Hey, we’re here! Can we buy some cheesecake? I’ll carry the groceries for you.” Gojo pointed to the cakes on the shelves and dashed away, leaving Yuuji standing confused at the door.

Yuuji snickered at the childlike man.

---

“How about friends? Lovers? You have one?”

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m talking to a police officer who’s doing a yearly census, not a 1000-year-old genie with a desperate need to please people.” Yuuji sighed as he unpacked his grocers in the fridge.

“Excuse me, I’m only 966. And I ask because it’s my job. Kids these days…” The genie wiped the invisible tears from his eyes.

“Ok, ok. Don’t cry.” Yuuji lightly patted his head. Being with the genie for a while, he realized Gojo had a dramatic side to him that sought attention.

He told Gojo that no, he was not dating anyone now. His best friends were Megumi and Nobara. That they had stood with him since high school, through good and bad times. That Megumi was a grumpy yet caring dog whisperer with 2 adorable, fluffy, smart dogs. That Nobara was a strong-willed woman working her way through the modeling world. And they always made time to catch up on the weekend despite a hectic schedule.

“Hmm, I see.” Gojo said thoughtfully. There were really no holes in Yuuji’s life to be fulfilled by wishes. Except one.

“You know, I can see that your life is good. But you are missing someone to share that life with you. Wish, and you’ll get the perfect woman. Or man.“

“No need. I’m good.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I’ve got everything I need.” Yuuji patted the genie’s head lightly as an assurance.

“So what do I do now?”

Yuuji thought for a moment. Then he pointed to the garden.

“Can you help me tend the plants?”

“Sure! Is it your wish?” Gojo said excitedly.

“Nah. Something you can help while I make dinner.”

So Gojo tended the plants. Then, after dinner, he helped Yuuji wash the dishes. The list of things Gojo helped Yuuji gradually grew. He ran errands for him, picking up sweets and office supplies for the school. He helped Yuuji planned surprises for his class, joining his local art class as an assistant. And sometimes, when Yuuji was tired, he gave him an excellent massage with his big, strong hands.

It was not that Yuuji wanted help. But he let Gojo help.

As time passed, Gojo moved out of the spare bedroom and ended up in Yuuji’s bed.

---

They were lying on the bed, hands holding each other. Gojo silently watched Yuuji as the sunlight crept on his youthful face, aligning his parted lips. As Gojo was gently brushing a strain of hair away, his lover opened his eyes, and he smiled at him.

“Mhh…morning.”

“Morning to you, too.” The genie smiled back, lovingly.

Yuuji stared at him just as he was in a trance.

“Your eyes… so pretty.” His bright smile struck Gojo, time and time again. Yes, this was the sight he wanted to see every day. His beloved Yuuji wrapped up in his arms, smiling and looking at him and him only.

“Is this why you always wear blindfolds or sunglasses?”

“Well, a genie would say that because his magical eyes can see everything, so covering them up is a way for him to not know too much. But I would say that those baby blues are only reserved for you.”

The pink-haired boy’s laugh got muffled by Gojo’s sudden kiss.

“Hey, I’m wondering… What if it was you who were granted 3 wishes? What would you wish for?”

Gojo thought for a moment.

“Nah, I’m good.” He told Yuuji. “I’ve got everything I need.”

---

Gojo was perplexed when he met Yuuji. The boy was weird in every aspect, genetically pink haired with tiger markings, refusing his granted 3 wishes, and insisting his life was enough. For almost 1000 years as a genie, he knew people would always want something.

Gojo was not a benevolent being. As he appeared before the boy, the genie thought he would just grant him 3 wishes and take his life in return, just like his predecessors. Those greedy, low-life scums would just scream and beg him to spare them. But what was done was done. Oh, how he reveled in their blood and shrieking soul. That was why he got sealed in the fucking tea kettle. Killing too much, the gods said.

The genie chuckled.

But Yuuji, his beloved, his eternal sunshine, was different from them. From wanting to know more about him, he started to fall for the boy. His fluffy hair that never seemed to be tamed, his bright, bright smile that made Gojo’s chest hurt, his well-built body that he could not stop planting more kisses on every inch of it, and how he did everything with much passion.

Gojo loved everything about Yuuji. And now, with him in his arms, he would not let him go. No matter what.

End.

#bluecatstory #fanfic #jjk #goyuu #goyu #longfic

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captcas · 4 years ago

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Khristmas Karaoke

Khristmas Karaoke by capthamm

Their annual Khristmas Karaoke sheds light on relationships, old and new. read on ao3

“Come on, Killian… She does this all the time. Aren’t you better off without her at this point?” Emma slaps Neal’s arm at his shitty attempt to comfort their friend after Milah ended things… again. She won’t admit her boyfriend is 100 percent correct, because that’s not the point. Killian has alwayshad a thing for Milah no matter how awful she treated him and each time she ends things, Emma knows it breaks him a little more.

She keeps waiting for the time it breaks him entirely.

It’s their friends’ annual Khristmas Karaoke– Mary Margaret insisted on the alliteration– and Milah just didn’t show. It’s a big deal when someone invites a significant other, effectively indoctrinating them into their core group of four– David, Mary Margaret, Killian, and Emma. This is Neal’s second year, which really, truly only freaks Emma out a little (a lot), but it was supposed to be Milah’s first. Killian, Emma’s ever cautious best friend, refrained from inviting her last year, but when Emma said she was bringing Neal again, Killian jumped in immediately and said he was bringing Milah.

Milah chose tonight to tell Killian she didn’t want to see him anymore.

Figures.

With Milah, it was always about her and Emma is convinced Milah’s selfishness is the only reason she was still with Killian. He treated Milah like a queen without so much as a birthday wish in return. (Seriously, she forgot one year and Emma was left to pick up the pieces Killian so gallantly insisted were nonexistent, but Emma could tell– she can always tell with Killian.) Either way, Milah’s lack of interest in anything to do with Killian always made Emma uncomfortable. She wants more for her friend; knowing he deserves more than to be someone’s puppy dog.

But Emma would never say that to Killian. She looks over at him and he’s clearly sulking, so she does what any best friend would do, “Come on KJ, we’re singing.” He goes to protest but Emma grabs his arm before shouting her drink order to David who mock salutes. “Ok go pick something, I’m going to run to the bathroom.” Killian nods, still seemingly unwilling to play along but too nice to deny Emma anything. She shoves him towards the stage and heads towards the bathroom.

After freshening up, Emma heads back towards the stage only to run directly into another woman. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry!”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” The woman looks up and a flash of recognition crosses her face. Emma recognizes her too, but she can’t put her finger on it. They both wave awkwardly before Emma heads to the stage and the familiar woman heads into the bathroom.

Killian is standing next to the stage flipping through the song book when she approaches, “Anything look good?”

“Hmm?” Emma can tell he’s in a different universe and she figures now is as good as any to tell him how she really feels about his Milah .

“Killian, I know you loved her… or love her… whatever. But she keeps you on this retractable leash so she can use you when it’s convenient for her.” Killian doesn’t look at her but she knows he’s listening. “I’m not saying her being a shitty person makes this hurt less, but Neal asked to come tonight… just something to think about.”

It’s her last comment that makes Killian turn towards her, “So you love him then?”

Emma should know how to answer that– she and Neal have been together almost two years, it should be easy– but when Killian poses the question, the correct answer seems to fail her completely.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

It’s a non answer, and Killian knows it, but Emma doesn’t have time to unpack her sudden stumble when posed with what should’ve been an easy question. She’s told Neal she loves him hundreds of times... so, why can’t she say she loves him to others? Something in the back of her mind whispers it’s because Killian is the one asking, but she shoves it down. They’ve had their chance– maybe hundreds of chances– and the timing just… never lined up.

She’s so deep in thought, she almost misses Killian’s answer, “Aye, that he is.” He looks at her intently, maybe expecting her to elaborate, but Emma is coming up short. She doesn’t understand why she couldn’t give him a straight answer– in truth, she doesn’t want to admit why. Somewhere deep down Killian knows this, because Killian knows her . He concedes after a few moments of silence, turning back to the task at hand, “Let’s sing the Grinch.”

Emma smiles, memories of their yearly Grinch Binge, echoing through her mind. Mary Margaret and David can be… a lot. They are very in love and don’t mind showing it off, so ever since they finally got together, Emma and Killian sprouted a few traditions of their own. Neal never liked Christmas movies, no matter how hard Emma tried to get him to watch even the easy ones like Elf with her. Killian loves them– especially the Grinch. So every year, on the Saturday before Christmas, Emma and Killian hunker down and watch every version of the Grinch they can find. When the new one came out last year, they went and saw it in theaters before watching the rest of them. It’s silly, and some of the versions are old and awful, but it’s their thing and Emma looks forward to it every year.

As the first chord hits, Killian still seems to be in his head, so Emma starts, “ You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.” She accents the words by singing in the lowest voice possible, and directing them at Killian. He’s clearly holding back a smile so she continues, “ You really are a heel. You’re as cuddly as a cactus,” she wiggles up against Killian causing him to burst out laughing before joining her for the rest of the song.

They sing it awfully, but neither of them even needs to look at the prompter. When it’s over they bow obnoxiously as Mary Margaret and David cheer. They break into a fit of laughter before hugging tightly. She finally composes herself when over Killian’s shoulder Emma sees something that makes her blood run cold. She must noticeably react because she hears a concerned, “Swan?” in her ear, but she can’t focus when it feels like the entire room is underwater and she’s drowning.

The name of the woman from the bathroom comes rushing back to her as she watches Tamara kiss Neal in the back corner of the bar. She recognizes her as the secretary at Neal’s office and suddenly all the pieces are coming together: late nights and business trips paired with a suspicious lack of increase in income. How could she be so stupid . If Emma hadn’t gone to hug Killian, she never would’ve seen them, her view blocked by the bright lights of the stage. But she did hug Killian and she does see them.

She’s going to be sick.

For a brief moment, she hopes Tamara just came onto him, and waits for him to push her away. He doesn’t, in fact Emma’s pretty sure Neal leans in further. Emma feels her face turn beat red. Before she can think about what she’s doing, she lets go of Killian and leans into the microphone, twisting her body so she can still see Neal and Tamara, “Neal Cassidy, we are done. Tamara, once a cheater, always a cheater but he’s alllll yours. Merry Christmas everyone!”

She feels Killian go stiff at her side when he realizes what just happened. She grabs his wrist, knowing full well his instinct would be to go beat the shit out of Neal.

It’s her instinct, too.

But, in an attempt to be a bigger person, she drags Killian (and herself) back to the table. As they approach, Killian is stoic, David is hiding his head, and Mary Margaret looks like she’s about to explode. Both halves of the annoyingly happy couple begin to talk, but hesitate as they clearly look for the appropriate words for a completely inappropriate situation. Emma cuts them off, “Shots? Shots. Bartender, please put these on Mr. Cassidy’s tab.” Killian goes to protest, but Emma practically pours the whiskey down his throat, subsequently ending their pity party for the night.

. . .

Mary Margaret and David are long gone, but Killian has been a worthy partner to avoid self-pity with. Somewhere between the three shots of Fireball and her third Captain and Coke, he assured her she deserved better while they threw metaphorical darts at each other’s significant others. She knows she should be sad about Neal, but the longer she spends with Killian, the less she seems to care. Maybe it’s the drinks, or maybe it’s the company, but Emma finds herself up on stage, one more time, with Killian cheering her on... much to the chagrin of the rest of the bar.

Emma isn’t sure what song she’s singing, when the host called Mary Margaret’s name Emma subbed in enthusiastically; she’s feeling good despite the events of the night and she’s ready to go. It takes two seconds for her to recognize Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” and only two more for her to start serenading Killian obnoxiously from across the bar.

But it’s all fun and games until the words you’re singing sink in.

“ I just want you for my own,

More than you could ever know”

The more she sings to Killian, the more she realizes the words aren’t very far off from how she feels about him, no matter how cheesy this song truly is. She’s always ignored her feelings for Killian, brushing them off as inconsequential and platonic– due to proximity and nothing more— but they’ve been nagging at her since he asked her if she loved Neal. Somehow, telling Killian she loved someone else would feel like the final nail in the coffin for any chance she had with him.

What is she thinking?

Emma feels the emotions bubble up inside of her until she’s practically overflowing– and then she’s literally overflowing… all over the stage.

It doesn’t take long for Killian to rush to her side, scooping her up and hauling ass to the bathroom. If she didn’t feel so sick, maybe she’d have room to be embarrassed. Killian doesn’t speak, just springs into action– holding back her hair, and keeping her comfortable until she’s entirely emptied out. She sits back, finally feeling well enough to register how embarrassing this situation actually was, but Killian doesn’t miss a beat, “Alright, Swan. Let’s get you some water. I’ll be right back, aye?”

He helps her lean against the wall and hurries out of the bathroom. Emma hangs her head in her hands while she lets the wave of emotions wash over her.

She’s very thirsty.

She’s very embarrassed.

She’s very in love with her best friend.

Fuck .

Killian returns with a glass of water and a toothbrush– how the fuck did he find a toothbrush? She finds she doesn’t really care and is just grateful to have someone looking out for her at all. Killian stands patiently in the corner while she brushes her teeth and downs the water. She turns to face him and maybe it’s the hydration, but she already feels better. “Well, now that I’ve topped off a perfectly shitty night. Are you ready to go home?”

Killian chuckles and nods before reaching out his hand to lead her from the bathroom and out of the bar. They walk hand in hand, swinging their arms between them until it gets a little colder and Emma finds she still has just enough of a buzz to go for it. She wraps her arms around Killian’s, hugging him tightly before resting her head on his shoulder. They’ve done this a million times, but tonight it feels different– she wonders if he feels it too as their pace slows and they walk in silence.

Emma’s always been on the search for that missing piece, the part of her that will undeniably make her whole. For a while she thought it was Neal, but she sees now she was trying to fit a corner piece into the center of her puzzle. She’d like to think, as they walk arm in arm in a comfortable silence, that Killian could be that piece, but she’s not sure. When she’s with Killian, she doesn’t feel like there’s a part of her that needs to be filled at all– not because he filled it, but because he sees her as complete.

Maybe this is how it's supposed to be– not loving in spite of the missing, broken, or faded pieces, but because of them.. Killian has loved her through everything. She’s just been to blind to see it as anything more than friendship– just happy enough to even have that. But what if she could have more. Mariah Carey starts singing in her head again and Emma feels like maybe she’s let her thoughts get out of hand, but when Killian’s thumb brushes gently over hers, she thinks maybe he’d understand, “This isn’t all I want for Christmas.”

Killian stops abruptly, “I’m sorry?” When he automatically apologizes, Emma realizes she needs to elaborate. Nerves course through her— years of heartbreak playing like a broken record in her mind telling her to put up her guard and run the other way. She’s not sure she’s ready for this— to share her entire self with him, but is anyone ever ready? Is there anyone she’d rather tell? The the resounding “no” that echoes through her train of thought which encourages her to continue on,

“No, no, I mean… You know when you’re a kid and you write out your Christmas list with everything you could possibly want and send it to Santa, and you are sure if you get everything on that list you’ll be truly happy?” Emma is positive she looks insane right now, but Killian is nodding and seems to be following along. “Ok, then Christmas morning comes and maybe you get one or two things off the list, but you already forgot about all the other things because just having this one thing is enough to make you happy. It’s not complete, and it’s not everything, but it’s everything to you at that moment?”

Killian nods, moving closer to her, brushing a stray snowflake out of her hair as the sky begins to open up making the everything around them feel a little bit more magical.

“Well, you’re my entire Christmas list and having you as a friend was the gift I was happy with. Just having you in my life was enough. From the time we were thirteen and you punched Robin for calling me a bitch, to the Grinch Binges, and junk food nights where we eat til we’re sick– I never wanted to give up any of it. I mean… 15 years of friendship...” Something in Killian’s eyes shifts and Emma starts to feel nerves rise through her body. She has to keep going before she chickens out again, “It’s not enough anymore.”

Killian looks like he’s about to apologize again, his eyes drooping in confusion, clearly not understanding her confession, “I’m sorry, Swan– I can try to be better– I know Milah she–”

“No, you idiot. I want more. I want the whole list. The entire Christmas list. All of it.” As Killian processes what she said, Emma stands there for what feels like eternity, heart more on her sleeve than it’s been her entire life. She’s about to speak again when he lunges forward into a kiss that can only be described as Christmas magic.

(Any other day she’d hate how cheesy that sounds, but right now her nerves are on overload and her lips feel like they’re on fire so she’s over it.)

They finally break and Killian rests his forehead on hers, cold from chill in the night air, “Swan, I’m s0r–”

“Killian Jones don’t you dare apologize.” He laughs and leans in for another kiss, this one softer but still affecting Emma just as much. They break again, and Emma feels Killian smile against her lips. She silently wonders if she’s too old to send a thank you note to Santa, or the universe, or whoever placed her right in this moment. Kissing her best friend is not where she thought she’d end the night, but now— in a crazy turn of events—it’s the only place she can imagine being. “Wanna head to my place, put on the Grinch, and make out a little?”

Killian laughs again before answering enthusiastically and taking her hand. “As you wish.”

And she does. As it turns out, Killian Jones satisfies every Christmas wish she has for the rest of her life. He also has the tendency to blast “All I Want for Christmas Is You” every year on their anniversary, even four years later when Emma knows for a fact the small onesie wrapped somewhere under the tree is sure to be Killian’s favorite Christmas present to date.

Even after opening the surprise gift, Killian assures Emma his favorite present will always be her, but when she hears him hum their song to little Hope in the middle of Spring she knows that’s not entirely true. (Still, Emma finds she doesn’t really mind.)

@mariakov81 @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4 @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @teamhook @nikkiemms @bawley-bug

#emma swan #killian jones #cs ff #cs au #Captain Swan #captain swan christmas #capthamm

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fae-fucker · 3 years ago

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Zenith: Chapter 76-79

Chapter 76

Andi has a nice little poetic nightmare. It’s irrelevant. The next morning has the girls preparing for the ball, complete with dresses and makeup.

Some things to note include Lira saying that in Adhiran religion (which is global, I guess), one has to mourn for three days before “letting” the souls of the dead pass on into ... everything.

Andi tries to say that it’ll take time to heal from it all, but Lira is having none of it.

“It will take time to move past what happened on Adhira,” Andi started, but Lira held up a hand.

“My three days of mourning have passed. Lon’s and my aunt’s, too. Now we, and the others who lost loved ones during the attack, must give the lost spirits to the stars, to the trees, to the wind.”

Which basically means that she’s done feeling bad about the unexpected and brutal attack on her home planet, so that’s convenient. Well, if one of our main characters doesn’t care about her people getting senselessly murdered, then why should we?

She also lets us know that her aunt has fixed up the Marauder and brought it here, because of course. Lira wants to arrange for Lon to be transferred to the Marauder, and though she has a logical reason for it (taking him home personally), it’s only a setup so we know why he’s on there at the end of the book when Andi’s bleeding out and needs a universal donor.

Spoilers, I guess.

Andi’s mother, Glorya, intercepts Andi as she tries to leave her crew to their makeover montages, just so we can move into a scene where her mom is brushing her hair and babbling on about gossip and vapid high society stuff.

But Andi, of course, gets lost in a flashback that’s so amateurishly written it’s honestly embarrassing and only highlights Shinsay’s helpless reliance on flashbacks as a storytelling device.

Observe:

Her words faded away as memories took their place. Andi lost herself to them.

The whole flashback is written in italics for some inexplicable reason, even though it would’ve been fine as just regular text since we’re clearly told what’s happening now and what’s a memory.

Also, there’s one bit where the memory “fast-forwards” to a different one. Shinsay, this isn’t a fucking movie. This isn’t a screenplay. What the fuck are you DOING.

The flashback and the mother’s inane babbling are all there to illustrate how vapid and brainless Glorya is and how she only ever cared about her status and not about her kid. Glorya pretends that everything is back to the way it was but Andi curses her out for abandoning her when she needed them most and how “the way it was” was actually always shit.

I mean it’s fine. It’s all right. I see what they’re going for, it’s melodramatic as all fuck but it works for what they’re trying to do? I can see this as being a realistic way for an emotionally neglectful family to look like. I wish it was more nuanced and wasn’t just shoe-horned in here (Glorya doesn’t show up before or after this bit, this is the only time she’s ever present or even mentioned in this book in any meaningful capacity) for the sake of making Andi’s friends look better and for her to not have anything that anchors her to Arcardius, but like, I won’t say this isn’t realistic.

And then Shinsay can’t stop themselves and it’s back to silly time:

“Really, Androma...”

[...]

“That is not my name,” Andi whispered. She allowed the darkness to come up into her voice, the mask of shadow and steel to sweep across her face. “My name is the Bloody Baroness. And if you or Commander Racella ever so much as utter a single word toward me or my crew again, I will personally strip the skin from your body and wave it like a flag from my starship.”

Glorya let out a soft squeak. Andi snarled with all of her teeth.

Guys I can’t breathe this is too fucking funny. And not in a good “woo vindication!” sort of way, but in a “they really put this right after an emotional confrontation about parental emotional neglect/abuse huh?” way. They really thought this was ... badass? Revenge? Andi, sweetie, you’re, like, traumatized? Presumably? I can’t really tell. But maybe get some therapy?

Do Shinsay think this is somehow a win and that Andi’s threat means she’s fully released from the hurt and pain her parents have caused her through their neglect? It’s honestly written as if Andi just confronted her mother and her own hopes of coming back to her family in this one short scene, and then upon realizing her parents never loved her, she scares her mom a little and then is all smug and satisfied at the end.

That ain’t how it works, darlings.

Then the annoying Marketable Space Pet runs in and starts biting Glorya’s toes and she runs away shrieking like a defeated Disney villain.

Way to undercut your own drama, Shinsay.

The chapter ends with Andi thinking about how her crew is her True Family for the bajillionth time. Because we’re all idiots and Shinsay wants us to remember that.

Chapter 77

It’s the evening of the ball and Andi thinks about how she missed Bavista, which is apparently your generic coming-of-age ball held at Arcardius for every 16-year-old. I’m guessing it’s a yearly thing? The book never clarifies. Not sure why the fuck it’s here tbh.

Actually, it’s a pretty good demonstration of how the worldbuilding in this book is presented so here, have at thee:

She could still remember seeing the otherworldly dresses and suits float by her on the feeds as she watched the girls and boys glide into the A’Vianna House in the Glass Sector. They seemed light as air, full of pride, bursting at the seams with excitement. Once inside, they would be greeted by members of the Priest Guild, who would award each young person three items.

The first was a vial of water from the Northern Ocean, symbolizing strength. For growth, they accepted a single leaf from the oldest tree on Arcardius, known as The Mother, which was said to have been planted when the Ancients first arrived. Lastly, they were given a single floating pebble, no larger than a child’s fingernail, chiseled from the very gravarock where the Cortas estate was. It represented the wisdom of rising above.

Is this relevant to anything? Does this help you understand this world or its inhabitants? Does it tell you anything of the culture of Arcardius or its youth and what’s expected of them? No? It’s just a really generic list of things thrown together using Mystical Proper Nouns as glue? Weeell heeell.

Also what does “it represented the wisdom of rising above” mean? This is utterly generic and means fuck-all, that’s what.

Anyway, Andi’s admiring herself in the mirror. Her dress is very sexy, trust me, I can’t be bothered to include it so just imagine your favorite My Immortal outfit description. It does include sword holsters at the back, which are Andi’s favorite part, because she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. She never actually uses them or brings the swords to the ball so ... Idk what the point of this was.

We also get some shit about how Andi actually LOVES dresses and being pretty but she never admitted it to anyone. But don’t you worry, this badass space criminal LOVES all things girly, because that’s feminism! Can someone check in on Shinsay? I’m not sure they’re getting enough air with their heads so far up Sarah J Maas’ asshole.

Admitting to herself that she looked pretty was something Andi kept private. She didn’t want to give her crew the satisfaction of knowing her true thoughts about fashion. How even though she was a fierce, hardened criminal, she could still appreciate the joy of a beautiful, impractical ball gown.

Huh. And here I thought they were your family. That’s weird that you’d keep this information from them, especially considering all of them seemed pretty excited to be prettied up in the last chapter. I guess they’d really just haaate the idea of sharing this joy with their captain, huh? Why aren’t you admitting this to them, Andi?

You’re saying shit about how “even though” you’re a hardened criminal, you can “still” appreciate beautiful gowns, like those two are somehow contradictory. Are you, mayhaps, ashamed of having this traditionally girly interest? Hmm! Interesting. Why could that be, I wonder? Why would having traditionally feminine interests or even caring about one’s appearance be seen as something inherently shameful or embarrassing, as inherently contradictory to being fierce and “hardened?”

This is all just so *clenches fist* feminist.

Forreal though, somehow Shinsay managed to take their entire made up GALAXY and make it subtly and not-so-subtly sexist. Good job, morons. Really girlbossed that one, huh?

The only bit I like about this whole mess is this:

The dressmaker had also accented her gown with a sparkling necklace full of jewels that Andi didn’t plan on giving back.

This is the one and only space pirate-y thing Andi does -- sorry, considers doing -- in the whole book and honestly could’ve been used to build her character more, but it’s just a one-off joke here. Wasted.

Valen comes to fetch her and we get some subtle foreshadowing.

“Valen the Resurrected.”

He stopped to look at her, brows raised. “What?”

She shrugged. “It’s what the press is calling you in all the feeds.” Valen let out a deep chuckle.

[...]

“Something tells me things are about to change for the better,” he said. “I’m ready to see it all happen.”

Andi wondered what he would do now that he was home with a whole planet at his disposal.

He deserved to have some fun.

Is it bad that I’m rooting for Valen to destroy everything? And this isn’t my villain-fucker coming out, I just want this poor bastard to absolutely annihilate Andi and her gang of acolytes.

Chapter 78

Andi and Valen arrive at the ball. It’s all very pretty and space-y and aesthetic. There’s a bunch of aliens everywhere. Andi sees a woman with funky eyes and assumes it’s a body mod, because I guess she knows the genetic characteristics of every species by heart and can tell when something is real or not.

An old classmate of theirs comes up to talk to Valen and congratulate him on being alive, then Andi reminds him of who she is just to be a smug asshole and the guy fucks off in a panic. She’s just so cool and badass, you guys.

Then it’s time for Valen and Andi to dance, and of course General Cortas looks like he’s about to lose his marbles because these darn kids! >:(

The chapter ends on Andi noticing Dex pouting in the distance.

“Relax,” Andi whispered. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

She flashed him a wicked grin as the music began.

And as Valen spun her into the first move of the dance, Andi saw Dex standing on the fringes of the crowd, an expression of longing clear on his face.

Chapter 79

This chapter is exactly 298 words of Dex moping around about how he’s actually not over Andi at all when he thought he’d done such a good job of repressing his feelings, and how he should be the one dancing with Andi instead of Valen. If you’re surprised, you’re clinically dead.

#eff reads: zenith

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

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Be my sweetie pie

Summary: Another lonely Valentine’s Day turns into the best day ever.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: Valentine’s Day blues, fluff, mutual pining, cocky Dean, language

Getting the cherry pie out of the oven you inhale its scent deeply. You love cherry pie, just like the man sneaking behind your back to get a glimpse at the delicious sin you baked for your roommate.

“Watcha still doing here, Sweetheart? I thought you would go on a date, Y/N.” Dean husks while he sneaks one hand around your body to poke his finger into the still warm pie.

“DEAN! The pie is for tomorrow. We can share it when you are back from your annual chick hunt or how you call it.” Carefully placing the pie onto the counter, you do not turn around to not let Dean see you are sad once again.

“Y/N, come on. Let me taste it. Your cherry pie tastes the best while still being warm.” Whining Dean wraps his arms around you, tries to drag you away to get access to the pie.

“No! I won’t eat the crumbs again only as you want to stuff your stomach with pie before running off with random girls. I want something to look forward to and all…” Dean stiffens behind you as he can hear the sadness in your voice.

“Why not doing something fun tonight, Sweetheart? Come with me to the bar.” Trying to lighten your mood Dean fails epically.

“Dean, I am not in the mood to sit in a bar, looking desperate. I rather stay in my room, watch horror movies and eat popcorn. Now go and have fun. I’ll survive one more lonely Valentine’s Day.”

When Dean let go of you, surprised by your words, you silently walk out of the kitchen, a huge bowl of popcorn in your hands.

“Y/N…you could…”

“Don’t worry, Dean. It‘s not as if I am not used to be alone at Valentine’s Day. I will have fun watching stupid chicks getting killed by even stupider killers.” Forcing a smile on your face you walk out of the room, missing the frown on Dean’s face.

“Sammy…uh…” Scratching the back of his head Dean pokes his brothers back impatiently. “I need your help.”

“Condoms are in my nightstand.” Sam grunts as his brother disturbed him while he tries to translate another book.

“No…I mean good to know but I need to know what I shall give Y/N to Valentine’s Day.” Eyes wide, eyebrows raised Sam looks at his brother, closing the book he was reading slowly.

“You want to give Y/N something for Valentine’s Day?” Sam slowly gets up, towering over his big brother.

“Okay. What did you do, Dean? Steal the pie? Did you put itching powder into her panties again?”

While Sam puffs his chest Dean nods, lost in thought remembering the way you squealed and tossed your panties into his face.

“No, I just…uh…”

“Dean?”

“She seems to be sad as no one wants to be her Valentine, Sammy. I thought I could buy her roses or stuff.” Shrugging Dean looks at his brother, not knowing how to handle the situation.

“Dude, roses on Valentine’s Day will burn a huge hole into your wallet.” Laughing Sam watches his brother grumble.

“I don’t care, bitch. Tell me what I shall buy. Roses, check. Chocolate, check. Her favorite beer, check, and condoms…” Dean smirks as his brother narrows his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you want to toss the stuff at Y/N and run off to have your yearly lonely hearts fun.”

“I thought I might get lucky with Y/N.” Before Sam can kick his ass Dean runs off, flipping his brother the bird. “Just saying. With all the stuff she might fall for me…”

“She already did you jerk!”

Stopping in his tracks, Dean looks at his brother with wide eyes and a dirty grin appears on his lips.

“Son of a bitch! I’ll get lucky!” Exclaiming he will seduce you tonight Dean runs into the garage to buy random Valentine’s Day stuff.

While you snuggle into your pillow you giggle as the killer just slaughtered the first victim.

“You stupid chick! Do not fuck that guy and get a gun or knife. Holy hell…he’s right behind you…” Stuffing popcorn into your mouth you shriek as the door opens and someone steps into your room.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” A grin on his face Dean stumbles into your room. There are a six-pack, red roses and a huge brown bag full chocolate in his arms. You can even get a glimpse of the condoms in his left pocket as he steps closer.

“Dean, for fuck's sake! You scared the shit out of me!” Panting you look at the huge amount of Valentine’s Day crap in his hands. “What do you want with all this stuff? Are your smile and your flirting skills not enough any longer?”

“I thought we can spend Valentine’s Day together. You know…” Placing the things onto your bed Dean hands you a hand-drawn card.

He drew a heart onto a card. There is a little pie next to the heart and he wrote ‘be my sweetie pie’.

“Dean, is that a way to get my pie earlier?” Laughing you pat the empty side of your bed and Dean kicks his shoes off, smirking at you.

“I’d like to taste your pie later.” Glancing at the condoms in his pocket you laugh, shaking your head. “You’ll only get the pie, Dean. If you want more, go to a bar…”

“I want to spend the night with you watching horror movies, eat too much chocolate and ruin your bed.”

“Hmm…you can never have enough chocolate, Dean. Now back to the movie, Winchester. I want to see if one of the girls will survive.”

Smirking Dean sits next to you, slinging one arm around your shoulders, to bring your closer to his body while he steals popcorn out of your bowl. “I bet you would survive for sure.”

“You can bet your cute ass on that, Dean. I would’ve opened the trunk, get the grenade launcher and blow the whole house.” Stuffing popcorn into Dean’s mouth you laugh as most of it falls onto the bed.

“Are you still sad to not have someone to spend your Valentine’s Day with?” Glancing at your lips Dean moves closer as you close your eyes for a moment.

“I just wanted to have someone by my side, you know. Sometimes I wish there would be someone to just hug me or kiss me, is all. Most of the time I am fine on my own but on days like Valentine’s Day I feel alone.”

“Hmm…you didn’t answer my question, Y/N.” Leaning closer Dean brushes his lips over yours. “Will you be my sweetie pie?”

“Only for tonight or more?” Pressing your lips to Dean’s you slide your fingers through his hair. “I am not that desperate…”

“For more than tonight Y/N. How about you’ll be my sweetie pie for the rest of my life and…” Smirking Dean presses his lips to your forehead. “You can have a slice of cherry pie.”

“I baked the pie, Winchester.”

“We can share, Y/N. I am very good at sharing…”

“Good, now share silence with me while we watch the whole Hatchet man collection and later you can have a taste of my pie …”

Snuggled into Dean’s chest you laugh about the movies you are watching. Now and then Dean tells you that none of you would ever be that dumb or exclaims he would shoot the guy.

“I never had such a nice Valentine’s Day, Y/N. Maybe this is our tradition from now on. Watching awful horror movies while you are my Valentine.”

“Dean, do you want to be my Valentine too?”

“I want to and I want your pie…” Groaning press your face into his chest. “Fine, get us a slice of pie. I don’t need anything to look forward to.

“Awesome…” Smirking Dean leaves the bed, pecking your cheek before he leaves the room to enter the kitchen.

“What?” Confused Sam watches his brother run through the library.

“She agreed to be my sweetie pie, now I’ll get pie and later…” Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll get me some more pie…”

Special thanks go to @sandlee44 for the wonderful Valentine’s Day card I got from her. It inspired me to write this story.

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katpatrova17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @prettydeaneyes, @rvgrsbrns, @deanwanddamons, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @negans-lucille-tblr, @deans-baby-momma, @thefaithfulwriter, @squirrelnotsam, @roonyxx, @neerness, @deansgirl-1968, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @woodworthti666, @thevelvetseries, @dreaminemz, @akshi8278, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @justanotherwinchester, @multisuperfandom, @jason-todd-squad, @jadesupernatural, @psychicforest, @luciathewinchestergirl, @magssteenkamp, @palefiregiver, @tranquility-or-chaos, @jxackles, @michellemxndes, @addictedtofictionalcharacters, @gabifernandessn

#Be my sweetie pie #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #fluff #dean winchester SPN #mutual pining #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester one shot #valentines day special

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rhetoricalrogue · 4 years ago

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31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 23

Prompt: Decay Rating: G Words: 1,496 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Nate Sewell Summary: Two research specialists in their natural habitat comparing technology. Note: Takes place a few months or so before Book 1. Special appearance of @asaucyginger‘s Fiona just because.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

The Facility Archives was a vast expanse of knowledge. It may not have the aesthetics of a well-stocked library, but the colder metal shelving held large amounts of books and the long tables were excellent for spreading out. The cooler temperatures maintained the integrity of older books, but it did mean that sweaters were a necessity.

It was a good thing that Cam had plenty of thick, woolen sweaters to choose from when he decided to go on a research dive.

The table he had set himself up at was also occupied by one of his favorite fellow researchers. Nate Sewell was a longtime friend of his and the two of them often bounced ideas off the other when it came to different avenues of searching. The man was pleasant to be around and was an ideal research partner: even sprawled out, his books and notes were always kept neatly to his side of the table and he didn’t distract with unnecessary conversation.

Cam’s thoughts went to Unit Zulu. He wasn’t entirely sure if Agent Fiona even counted as a Research Specialist, he’d seen her moves in the training room and thought she was better suited as a Combat Specialist instead, but she was not keen on keeping her material or herself to one side of the table. She had a fixation with his hair, her fingers always finding ways to play with the thick brown strands, and she tended to lapse into a sultry Irish brogue. It was close enough to the Scots-Gaelic he spoke for him to know that she always gave him an open invitation to her bed, but he’d always politely declined. Fellow agent or not, she was Fae and it never was a good idea to be impolite to the Gentry, even when they were your co-workers. There were some things that you just didn’t want to bring HR into if you could help it.

“What are you looking for today?” Nate asked, the nib of his pen scratching faintly against the notebook he’d brought with him. It was a leatherbound book, the pages thick and cream colored, which told Cam it was probably expensive. It made the beaten up pocket sized black and white speckled composition book he kept most of his immediate notes on and the blue ballpoint pen with the missing cap look sad in comparison.

Cam looked up from his laptop. There’s where he kept the bulk of his notes, his notepad only for when he was at the stacks and he didn’t want a thought to escape between where he was and his makeshift study headquarters. He and technology worked virtually seamlessly together: he mostly had Nicky to thank for that, seeing as his friend was always on the cutting edge of any new thing. He snorted: Nicky had been one of those people who had camped out for over two days to get the latest iPhone one time. He’d been furious when he came back, phone triumphantly held in his hand, to find that the rest of his team was already updating their contact lists on the very same model. He hadn’t known that the Agency had already scored the upgraded phones and had one set aside for him to use.

“Just some random things, mostly about bog spirits in Florida and Louisiana. I’m trying to see if there’s any connection between them and the ones over the water in other countries.”

“Interesting, I know there’s a book over on the fourth row, over in that section,” Nate pointed over to a section of bookshelves to the left of their table and squinted, as if attempting to recall the exact position from memory. “Possibly the second shelf, maybe the third. Green cover, so I’d wear gloves in case it possibly starts to leach arsenic.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m still in the note-making stages of research, but I thought it would be best to start here, to let the books inspire me.”

Nate smiled and went back to his reading. A curious look told him that he was looking at human physiology and something about genetic mutation. “Working on that bloodwork case?” Cam asked.

He nodded. “It’s just so strange. I have no idea what a vampire would want with a human holding a mutation to their blood.” He ran his hand through his hair. “The last victim had enough blood left in their body for the science team to extract and sample, but I thought that maybe doing some of my own research would come up with an angle outside of the box, so to speak.”

Cam started to type. Luckily, the Agency spared no expense and the internet was incredibly fast, even so far underground as they were. “You may want to try looking at some non-supernatural reports. If you want, I can work up a list of papers that have been done on the study of genetics and how certain mutations affect how organisms interact with their environment.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that route.” Nate scratched at his chin. “It would make sense, seeing that beings evolve to overcome difficulties in their environment...hmm.” Nate made a few notes in his notebook. “Thank you for the idea, Cameron, but I wouldn’t want to drag you away from your own work.”

Cam grinned. “Actually, this is mostly an excuse to hunker down. Nicky decided that it would be a good idea to have a…” he searched for a word. “Fling with one of the admin secretaries and it turned messy. Like hunt him down and make him suffer messy.”

Nate winced. “It’s a good thing that he can’t technically die,” he joked.

“Yeah. I think she’d be happy killing him and then calling it even when he wakes back up, but still.” Cam shook his head. “I really wish he would pick his dalliances better, especially when it comes to supernatural women.” Part of Cam had a thought that Nicky chose the people he slept with on purpose, hoping that one of them would finally kill him for good and that he’d be able to rest in peace. He wasn’t immune to the fact that Nicky put himself into danger the most out of everyone in the team and had a fatalistic viewpoint when it came to death and dying. It was a morose thought, and one that he’d brought up to his friend before. Over the years, he learned that it was best if he left the subject alone.

“But back to your research,” he said, shaking his head and pulling out his phone. “Give me a few and I can send the list to you. A couple are behind paywalls, but I’ve got yearly subscriptions to a few places and a few connections to get behind the ones I don’t, so just let me know which ones interest you.”

Nate looked up from his book and smiled. “Thank you, I really appreciate the help.” He gave a glance towards Cam’s laptop. “You know, I prefer more…”

Cam grinned as he typed. “Archaic?”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Personal methods of research, but I do have to admit, having information at your fingertips like this does cut down on time.”

“I could show you how to do this, you know. I’m pretty sure IT has a spare laptop they can assign you.”

He shuddered. “No, I have one, it’s…” he took a breath. “Let’s just say that technology and I don’t mix.”

Nicky’s words came to mind. Those of us who resist change are bound to decay with time, my friend. Besides, it’s fun to look back and see all the changes we’ve adapted to over the years, no? Cam wisely kept those comments to himself. “Well, the offer still stands. If you ever need something looked up quickly, just let me know.” He jumped as his phone began to vibrate at the table. Picking it up, he saw that Winona had texted him.

Nicky’s dead again. Help me collect his dumb, horny ass from Hallway D-4. He owes me a drink when he wakes up from having his head thrown down the hall. Ew.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” he sighed, putting his laptop away in the bag he’d brought with him. Luckily he hadn’t gotten around to pulling books out yet, but he slid his notebook back in its usual spot in his back jean pocket and the pen in an unused pocket of his laptop bag. “Hopefully Helen will call things even now that she got her hands on Nicky and we can get back to business.”

“Good luck. Give my sympathies to the cleaning staff.”

Cam waved as he left, shouldering his bag and wondering about how big a mess someone could make of a dead man without a working circulatory system.

Then he sighed. As Nicky’s Commanding Agent, this was going to be one hell of an accident report he was going to have to write up.

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #cameron buchanan #nate sewell

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marie-03 · 4 years ago

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No Longer A Ladies Man

Bucky X Fem!Reader

No warnings.

Word count: 2.3k

You pretend to be interested in the jabbering of your friend as she talks about a man she had met down at Coney Island. Apparently he was tall, dark and handsome. Loosely translated, that meant he was most likely an alcoholic who was also, very conveniently, slightly good looking.

"I've told you before, Lila, don't get involved with men who you describe to be 'tall, dark and handsome'. Never once has that gone well for you." You swirl the alcohol around in your glass, bitter bronze splashes over the rim and lands on the sticky table, "Don't you remember. . . what was his name?"

"Mike? Ed? No, Robert." You nod your head when she finally says the right name in her long line of ex-lovers.

She sighs when you knock back the rest of the liquor in your glass. "Yes, Robert. Not only did that man go on a bender each night and knock back gallons of booze by sunrise, but when you weren't there he had a call-girl between your sheets. Funnily enough, you described that souse as tall, dark and handsome too."

Her cheeks flush scarlet, if you didn't know any better, you'd think she was a show girl with make-up ready for a stage. It was clear that she knew you were right, you usually were about these kinds of things.

Never once had your heart been broken. Some may say it's because you were smart enough to do the heart breaking, others would say it's because you steered away from relationships completely. You would agree with the latter. It wasn't intentional, the steering away that is, but you had never found anyone who was capable of both catching your eye and not sleeping with the honey next door.

"What about James? You know, the one who's friends with the kid thats always sick." Lila eyes you, smirking slightly when the tips of your ears turn a faint pink. So, maybe you lied.

"That kid is called Steve and he's older than you." You sit straight, and cast your gaze out towards the bar.

A rushed tune is performed from the corner of the pub, a band of four play various instruments, the most noticeable being the piano. In front of them, on the dance floor, is multiple couples kicking their legs to and fro. You had never understood dancing, plus you had two left feet.

"You never answered my question. What about James?"

You'd be lying if you said you had no feelings for the man with the pretty blue eyes. Ever since he had moved into the house next door, his girl-winning smirk had been stuck in your head and you knew that he knew that. Even now, he sits next to Steve at a table near the dance floor, eyes locked onto your face turned away from him.

"He's a ladies man. Not one bone in that mans body is at all reliable."

Lila wags her brows. "I can think of one bone that seems to be very reliable."

"Don't be crude, Lila." You try to remain serious but can't help but chuckle, "But no. Don't get me wrong, Bucky's a looker but all that man wants to do is get into any woman's unmentionables."

"Hmm, I don't know. Apparently he hasn't shown any interest in any of the woman throwing themselves at him recently." Lila grins when she turns her head, eyes landing on Bucky who quickly looks away from you and starts talking to a very bored Steve.

Your head shakes. "And? I ain't no dreamboat, Lila, he isn't turning away woman for me. I don't think I've even spoke to the man for a few months, we occasionally wave to each other through the window but thats about it."

"Well, he's coming over so you might want to think of some conversation." Your eyes widen as the man in question enters your eye line. He looked as amazing as ever in his navy blue shirt tucked into coal pants. Despite Brooklyn being rather gloomy the last few months, you spot a tan line under the sleeve of his shirt.

Bucky slides into the booth next to you, he grins at Lila who winks in your direction before jumping from her seat and making her way over to a now lonely Steve.

"What brings you here, doll?" You can't help but notice how close he sits to you. His thigh brushes against yours, he leans in closer, grinning down at you with those beautiful baby blues.

"I was here to meet with Lila but you pushed her away, awfully rude, Mister Barnes."

He chuckles, then drawls in that seductive voice of his, "I like the way you say my name, do it again."

"Are you trying to make a pass with me, Buck?"

"Is it working."

You smirk through the red of your cheeks. "Maybe. Buy me a drink and we'll see if it's working then." He bangs his hands against the table in celebration, and stands, heading to the bar. You watch him leave with a smile, though your head was confused as to why you let him flirt with you so easily.

Bucky wasn't the type to get you drunk and take advantage, so you weren't worried about him filling you with alcohol to have ten minutes with you later on. What worried you was that that was all he wanted. Just ten minutes.

It wasn't like you were expecting the man to pop the question right there in the middle of the bar, but you were hoping that maybe, just maybe, one day he would ask the question almost every girl wants to hear.

Plus, unlike every other man you had met, Bucky had both caught your eye and not slept with the honey next door because that honey would be you. However, you wouldn't be against it. Not as a one night stand though, you hated those, especially when one side of the party felt so much more than the other. Watching people leave a bar together almost always broke your heart because although they're having fun, almost always one of them gets hurt when the sun comes back up.

Two empty glasses and a bottle of scotch is placed on the wooden table chipped by years of abuse from bar brawls and overly excited drinkers. "Most ladies like wine." You joke, as he removes the cork and pours the fiery liquid.

"You aren't most ladies." He hands you one of the glasses as he takes a swig from his own. You chuckle when his face screws up at the taste of the alcohol made to attack the taste buds.

"Whats wrong, Buck? Wishing you had that wine now?"

He cocks his head, grinning despite the drink left discarded on the table. "Wine seems more romantic, don't 'cha think?"

"Good job you didn't get wine then." You say, taking a sip from your own glass. Bucky quirks a brow, when he leans forward you don't move away or edge closer.

His lips brush against your ear, the touch sends a shock down your spine. "It's a real shame that you don't see this that way, I'm truly a romantic."

"Sure you are, Buck." You turn your head towards him. Your noses meet, and at this point there was no room between the pair of you.

The bar was like an ice box but Bucky was warmer than the campfires your father would light during your yearly camping trips. It was almost comforting, and strangely it felt like a hug you never wanted to pull away from. "I can show you how romantic I am if you'd let me."

The corners of your lips quirk. "Show me."

He pulls away and stands, holding out a hand for you to take. "May I have this dance, doll?"

"I have two left feet." You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet.

"It's a good job that I have two arms to keep you up."

The tune played by the now lone piano wasn't one you recognised but instantly loved the second it graced your ears. The man playing had musicians hands, it was like he was born to grace the ebony keys. Unlike most tunes, this one didn't have a ridiculous dance to match the solemn notes and trills that made people want to swing themselves around the room.

At least five other couples were on the tiled floor, swaying and twirling to the music. Everyone else that was in this part of the pub before had left, either because of the music change or because they had someone to bring home for the night.

Bucky places his hand on the small of your back, and entwines the other with your hand thats not clasping his shoulder. He smiles down at you who stares at your feet, making sure they're not going to step on the polished slacks that he wears.

"You're not going to step on my feet." He says it so softly that you're sure you're imagining it.

"I don't want to ruin your shoes." You respond. Bucky shakes his head and stops the pair of you to stand on his own feet, dulling the shine with dried mud.

"They're already ruined." Bucky spins you at the same time as the other men spin their own partners, and pulls you back, flush against his chest. You hesitate, but place your cheek against his shoulder, "(y/n), do you like me?"

Your brow furrows. "In what way?"

"You know what way I mean." He says, looking away from you to Steve who was giving him a thumbs up.

Clearly, your answer was yes, and not because he was quite possibly the prettiest man you had ever set eyes on. No, you liked him because of who he is. Bucky was one of the most loyal people you had ever met, and he was always gentle with you, never once had he raised his voice or directed his rage towards you. Every time the pair of you were together, he would make sure he was next to you at all times, defending you against any man looking in your direction in a way you didn't like.

Then there was the fact that after all the years, your crush had probably turned into something a little bit more. During the day your mind often wondered, and usually, no matter where it wondered to, it always found Bucky. Even when you were at Coney Island, you often found yourself looking for Bucky's face in the crowd of people.

So, it came as no surprise to you when you say, "Yes, and you."

He grins to himself when the song begins to come to close. When the last note is played, Bucky dips you and places a chaste kiss to your neck. "There's a reason that the 'famous ladies man' is no longer a ladies man." With each word, his lips brush against your skin more an more. His confession lands multiple kisses to your neck and leaves you a blushing mess.

"A simple yes would have sufficed." Your voice was quieter than it was meant to be. If Bucky wasn't still holding you at his mercy, he probably wouldn't have heard you.

Your eyes flick from Bucky to the crowd of people gathering to watch the pair of you at the bar. Multiple women scowl, their cherry painted lips cutting into you like sharpened knives ready to kill. Some men, mainly one's you had brushed off in the past, watch Bucky like a pack of hungry wolves ready to snatch up their prey.

"Bucky, people are staring." You can feel his smile against your neck tainted pink as he pulls you to your feet and nods to the pianist to start a new song.

When the new tune plays, Bucky shifts his arms to wrap around your waist. "Let them stare. Let them know that I have the prettiest girl in Brooklyn blushing in my arms." You swat his arm when you blush again.

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

His forehead rests against yours, and you can't help but look up at him with all the love and adoration you can muster. Which just so happened to be a whole lot. You hadn't felt love before, but if this is what it felt like, you were very much on board with feeling this until you die.

"If you keep looking at me like then I might have to be the ladies man one more time." His eyes darken, their gentle nature being replaced by something that made you slightly weak in the knees. Your smile grows as you press your lips to his, the grip he has on your waist tightening.

Steve and Lila grin from their spot at the booth you previously occupied, the pair of them finally happy to have the pair of you together. For months, Steve had to listen to Bucky whine about you not paying enough attention to him.

Bucky's lips were soft against yours, his touch gentle and on purpose. He didn't want your first kiss to be something that forced the two of you into bed. No, he wanted it to mean something more, mark something more than the first time the pair of you spent the night together.

The cold of the bar is long forgotten when Bucky pulls the pair of you away from the dance floor, and into his arms by the far wall. He pulls his lips away from yours. You whine in protest.

"Everyone's definitely staring now." He says, placing his chin on your shoulder to watch all the disappointed faces ordering drinks at the bar.

You smile. "Let them stare. Let them know that Bucky Barnes is no longer a ladies man because he's mine."

#marvel #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #x reader #imagine #40s bucky #romance

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filthysweetie · 5 years ago

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The Witcher drabble

Prompt: “Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?”

Day 36! And first time doing anything for the Witcher, so here’s to hoping it’s okay :) binge watched the Netflix series a few weekends ago lol.

—————

“Well, if this all goes completely sideways, I can at lest know that I’m the prettiest offering of the two of us.” Jaskier says with a bit of a laugh, feeling lightheaded. He’d given up on struggling against the ropes binding them but from the chafing against his wrists fairly soon after waking up, Geralt had not.

Geralt grunts, one of those grunts that signifies Jaskier has been heard but perhaps not listened to. Jaskier sighs and leans more fully against Geralt’s back, even if it makes Geralt’s work a bit harder. If this truly the end of his life, he’d like to at least not be ignored. Jaskier’s gaze falls on his lute, set nicely against the wall, ready for him to pick it up and start a song—at least they hadn’t broken it this time.

“Geralt,” Jaskier turns his head slightly towards the Witcher, as if that would make him more likely to get some kind of reaction, “doesn’t this remind you of something?” Jaskier lets the sounds of Geralt’s struggle go on only a moment before he continues, “it’s our first meeting of course, when we really started to bond—figuratively and literally of course—and you realized you couldn’t go a day without yours truly.”

Geralt says nothing.

“Oh come on, I’m on deaths row here! Why can’t you at least appreciate my sense of humor?”

“You’re not going to die.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, “Geralt, really, they’re making sacrifices to the Fey, of course they have to go with the handsome musician, it’s practically law.”

“You’re not going to die.”

Jaskier blinks and turns his head as much as he can, wishing he could see Geralt’s face and wishing he had a bit more control of his fine motor skills. God what did they put in that stew?

“Come now White Wolf, we knew this day would come.” Jaskier extends his legs and knocks his feet together absently, “You’re a Witcher, you were always going to live longer than me.” A beat, “Maybe I should compose a song for myself and have you sing it in my honor, hmm? I do still think you have a novelty singing voice hidden under all those monosyllables.”

Geralt lets out an angry huff, “These people are so afraid and so blind that they sacrifice people for trinkets dipped in blood. Fey aren’t going to concern themselves with yearly sacrifices; it’s something else, something worse. And you are not going to be these people’s next victim.”

“Not Fey?” Jaskier asks; after all this time with Geralt you’d think he’d be better at identifying creatures—in his defense they haven’t actually come across any Fey, and when he was with Geralt months felt like years—in a good way, for him at least.

“Worse.” Geralt grumbles out, “Man.”

Two towns folks come in looking nervous and gaunt. Jaskier tries not to sigh at the fact that they’ve been taken captive by a town of frightened rabbits, but then they did drug their food.

“The skinny one.” A large man at the door instructs.

“Skinny?” Jaskier says, aghast as they come closer to him, “I’ll have you know I am svelte, I am toned, I am an absolutely perfect body composition! Look at these shoulders! Skinny…” Jaskier snots.

“Cover his mouth too.” The man says, clearly not amused. Absolutely no one is honoring his wit today it would seem.

The moment the first rope is loosened is the moment these town folks lost. Jaskier uses an outstretched leg to trip the colt of a girl bent over their binds and Geralt yanks on the rope hard enough to give Jaskier rope burn, but more importantly hard enough to unravel the rest, freeing his arms and then untangling his feet quick enough.

The children scurry back, wide eyed and afraid. The man at the door, the only man that appeared well fed in the whole town, looks most afraid as Geralt stands to his full height and looks down at his with golden eyes that flash—golden eyes that Jaskier has sung songs about enough to know their full effect on those that have crossed the Geralt of Riviera, the White Wolf.

“You will pay for this.” Geralt says and the threat of it drips from his words, making even Jaskier shiver. Geralt steps forward and grabs the man by the collar, tight enough that the man stars to claw at Geralt’s hands to no avail; “Where are you keeping the Kudan prisoner?”

“D-don’t hurt me!” The man grovels immediately, already trembling.

“Tell me.” Geralt does not like to ask twice.

“Geralt doesn’t like to ask twice!” Jaskier adds from the floor, still picking at his bonds. He may or may not be drugged still, just a little bit, from the food that was used to subdue them. No wonder the man was surprised to see Geralt fight back so effortlessly. Another Witcher perk.

The man says something, Geralt says something back, and it continues for a moment as Jaskier finally gets his hands free and tries for his legs. The girl he’d toppled slowly creeps forward, looking between Geralt and the man again and again. Jaskier should probably be worried. But when she’s close enough she too starts picking at his binds, untangling them with deft fingers, whispering wet apologies under her breath.

There’s a cracking sound and then a thud and Jaskier doesn’t have to look up to know that the man is dead and Geralt got what he needed. His heavy footsteps circle back and the girl scrambles away. Jaskier is hauled up by his shirt back and held up by a strong arm around his back.

“Don’t forget my lute!” Jaskier gets out, reaching for it without the coordination to walk forward himself.

Geralt mumbles something—not real words—but the boy, the other frail child, grabs it and hands it to Jaskier from as far away as he could.

“You won’t hurt us, will you?” The girl asks, brave for one so afraid.

“This guy?” Jaskier pats his hand wherever it reaches on Geralt behind him (somewhere along the side of his face, after missing twice), “of course not, he only hurts bad people and bad monsters and you’re neither!”

“They did drug your food.”

Jaskier makes a dismissive noice, “wasn’t the first time won’t be the last.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. Jaskier can’t see it, but he can feel it happen.

They get out into the sun and the world feels new; the fresh air outside of that stuffy barn gives Jaskier something of a new lease on life—that or it just helps clear out the fog in his mind.

“Wow, I could have really been sacrificed in there.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” Geralt half grunts out, going for the stables that Roach is in and dragging Jaskier along, “I wouldn’t have let them.”

“Aw, you sneaky Witcher, keep that up and someone other than me might think you care.”

Geralt says nothing, but sometimes that was confirmation enough.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandilion #geralt #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #witcher fic #drabble on #i fancy myself a writer

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huilian · 6 years ago

Text

Herding Birds (And Bats)

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Summary: It was not even December, and here Dick was, knocking on Jason’s safehouse. He came to Jason first, because the week when Dick normally started to call, text, and generally badger his siblings to come home for Christmas Jason might not even be on Earth. So, Dick had to get to him while he was still, thankfully, in Gotham.

A/N: Merry Christmas, @spacenightwing! Hope you enjoy this!

(Part of Batfam Christmas Stockign 2018 @batfam-christmas-stocking)

It was not even December, and here Dick was, knocking on Jason’s safehouse.

He came to Jason first, because the week when Dick normally started to call, text, and generally badger his siblings to come home for Christmas Jason might not even be on Earth. So, Dick had to get to him while he was still, thankfully, in Gotham.

“Jay! Jay, open up!”

Nothing. Well, Dick was not going to be deterred by that. He knew for sure that Jason was at this place; he saw him coming in a few minutes ago himself. He just had to knock harder.

“JAY! If you don’t open this door right now, those photos will come out right this instant!” Thank god Dick kept the photos of a lanky, awkward, barely thirteen-year-old Jason. It was very, very useful to him now.

“What, Dickface?” Dick found himself staring up to Jason’s face. God, he was so big now, wasn’t he? He was taller than Dick, now.

“Yearly reminder to come to the Manor for Christmas.” Dick very carefully did not say ‘home’. Jason would never go if he called it home.

“No.”

“Yes. You don’t want to disappoint Alfred, do you?”

Jason’s eyes squinted. Dick knew he played the Alfred card every year, but to be honest, it worked every year, so who was he to question it? And the old butler truly would be disappointed if Jason didn’t show up for Christmas.

“Come on. You can even choose, Christmas Eve dinner or Christmas Morning breakfast. You don’t even have to talk to Bruce if you don’t want to. I promise you’ll still get your presents.”

Jason sighed. “Fine. But it’s only for Alfred, you hear?”

“Yeah, Jay. Just come, okay?”

Jason closed the door. Dick had to make sure that he reminded Jason again two weeks before, three days before, and the morning of. Oh well. If that’s what it takes.

***

The next one Dick came to was Tim. He did not just come to Tim, he came to Conner, Bart, and Cassie too. He even bribed Tam Fox with an assortment of coffee and toffee to keep Tim’s schedule for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day clear.

He did not actually have to talk to Tim. Between the four of them, they were sure to have Tim in hand. But he wanted to talk to Tim. It has been ages since Dick actually have a conversation with Tim.

“Timmy!”

“Hey, Dick.” Tim did not even look up from his laptop.

“Just wanted to remind you, you still have to come to the Manor on the 24th and the 25th.”

“Okay.” Still not looking up from the laptop. This requires drastic measures.

“Also, my clothes are on fire.” No, that’s not drastic enough. Not for this family, anyway. Think, Dick, think. Ah, of course. “And Damian is messing with your tablet.”

“Okay.” Silence. Dick was content to wait. Tim was bound to notice sooner or later. “Wait, Damian is messing with my tablet?” Bingo. Finally, Dick got him to look up from his laptop.

“For someone who managed to outsmart Ra’s Al Ghul, you’re really out of it, aren’t you Tim?”

“Is Damian messing with my tablet or not?” Tim was looking around the room, as if he was expecting Damian suddenly pop up with a ruined tablet. Which, Dick had to give to Tim, Damian would probably do if he was actually here.

Dick decided to save Tim from his misery. “I don’t even bring him here, Tim”

“Oh, okay.” Back to the laptop. At least now Dick got him to listen. Even if it’s only with half an ear.

“You still have to come to the Manor for Christmas though.”

“Ugh. Do I have to?” Tim threw his head back. Right now, he did not look like a CEO of Wayne Enterprises; he did not look like the fearsome Red Robin. Tim looked like an eighteen-year-old kid sulking at being forced to go to a family meeting.

“Yes.” Dick resist the urge to ruffle Tim’s hair.

“Fine. Alfie will make that pudding I like, right?”

Dick wrinkled his nose. “Only you liked that pudding, Tim.”

“But he’ll make it, right?”

“Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

Tim tilted his head, as if the idea of it was unthinkable.

“Come on. Ditch the office for a while, Tim. Let’s take my bike to the Manor. Harass Alfie for a bit.” Dick gave in to the urge to ruffle Tim’s hair. It was longer than usual. Tim was due for a haircut.

What. What the hell, mind. Oh god. He was turning into Bruce.

Tim saved him from his sudden terror-filled realization by saying, “Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that?”

“You know I can’t resist riding your bike, Dick.” Tim smiled his shit-eating grin.

“Hey! I didn’t say you’re going to be riding it!”

“So why am I holding the key?” Tim held the key up in his hands, taunting him. Damn, the kid is getting good at this. Dick didn’t even realize he was being pick-pocketed. Then he ran towards the elevator.

“Tim!” Dick chased after him.

In the end, Dick was just this shade of faster than Tim. He was taller, after all. And not wearing dress shoes.

They spent the entire ride to the Manor laughing at each other. It was a good day. (It was the best interaction they’ve had in a while.)

***

Dick knew he couldn’t change Cass’ mind if she didn’t want to go to the Manor for Christmas, but he liked asking her anyway.

“Cass?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you coming to the Manor for Christmas?”

Cass looked down and adopted the ‘thinking’ pose, with one hand on her chin and another crossed on her chest. Dick knew then that Cass would come. Cass was teasing him, which means that she would come. At least, Dick hoped she would come.

Cass spent a few seconds in that pose, then said, “Yes.”

Even though Dick had guessed that she would be coming, it was good to have it confirmed.

“I’ll see you there, then?”

Cass nodded.

“Don’t come covered in mud and other… more questionable things again, though.”

“It was one time!” Cass cried out in indignation.

“Sure, Cass. Sure.” Then Dick ran out of the room before Cass could tackle him to the ground. The fact that he made it out meant that Cass let him got out, which means that Dick had to be careful of a prank for him in the future.

Well. What’s one more prank, right?

***

Do you and the old man want to come to the Manor for Christmas?

No, sorry. We have our own thing. Thanks for the invite though.

Sure thing, Babs. Have fun.

***

Jay, don’t forget. Christmas at the Manor in a three days.

Jay.

Jay, I’m serious.

I’m telling Alfred.

Fine, I’m coming. Don’t be a dick.

***

It was a spur of the moment thing, Dick inviting Steph to the Manor for Christmas. They were patrolling together, in one of the rare moments that Dick patrol Gotham now. Nightwing and Spoiler make a good team, much like Batman and Batgirl. And Dick was hit with the sudden realization that this girl had been as much a sister to him as Cass.

“Hey, Spoiler?”

“Yeah, N?”

“You have anything to do Christmas Eve?” As much a sister she was to Dick, and to Cass and Damian, and whatever she was to Tim now, Steph had a family of her own outside of the Bats. If she wanted to spend Christmas with her mother, Dick could hardly begrudge her that. God knows the rest of them didn’t have the chance to spend Christmas with their mothers.

“No, not really. Mom has a shift that night. Holiday nights, better pay, you know.” Steph shrugged, like she didn’t particularly care. But this was Steph. Steph loves celebrations. There’s no way that she didn’t care about celebrating Christmas. Plus, Spoiler’s mask only covers the bottom part of her face. Dick could see her eyes.

(In hindsight, it was not a good tactical decision to have masks that didn’t cover the eyes. But Dick wore a leotard for the first five years of crime fighting. Like all the Titans and Babs like to tell him, he didn’t have a leg to stand on good tactical decision regarding costumes.)

“You want to go to the Manor?”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“Who’s cooking?”

“Agent A, of course. Put the rest of us in the kitchen and the Manor will burn down.”

“Point.”

“So, coming?” Dick wished she would come. Dick really wished she would come.

“Sure.” Steph smiled. Dick smiled back. It was always good to have more people at the Manor for Christmas.

***

Dick didn’t have to call or badger Damian into coming. He was already living in the Manor. Alfred will make sure he was on the Manor on Christmas.

***

Now, for the man of the hour himself. Bruce Wayne. Dick didn’t have to make sure Bruce was in Gotham. However, he still had a job to do. Bruce still wants to go patrolling on Christmas Eve.

“B! It’s Christmas Eve!”

“So?”

“So you should be at home, celebrating Christmas with your family!”

A grunt.

Okay then. Thankfully Dick had done this dance for years now, he knew what to do.

“Fine, go patrol if you want. But the cave is already in lockdown, and I have locked you out of every safehouse you own for tonight,” Dick said flippantly. He was confident he got every single safehouse. After all, Alfie helped him lock B out.

Another grunt.

“Admit defeat, B.”

A sigh. Dick knew it meant that he had won. He smiled.

“Come on, everybody is already waiting in the dining room.”

***

“Give that back!”

“Nu-uh, short stack. If you want it, you take it.”

“Can you guys shut up!”

“Oh, Timmy is pissed. He’s pissed, Steph. Whatever should we do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Jay. Maybe we should show everyone these photos, it could make him loosen up a bit.”

(Jay? When did Steph become so familiar with Jason?)

“Photos, you say, Brown?”

“Ugh. Kill me now.”

Even before they got into the dining room, Dick could hear the arguing that ensues inside it. Bruce looked at him. Dick looked back.

“It’s your kids. You’re the one who decided to keep adopting more kids.” Dick pointed out.

“They all keep coming,” Bruce grumbled.

“Come on, old man. What’s the worst they can do?” Oh no. The moment that word went out of his mouth, Dick wished he could take it back. The worse his siblings could do was very bad indeed.

An explosion went out inside the dining room. Bruce glared at Dick as if saying, see? Dick sighed. What even could they use inside the dining room to create an explosion?

“The worst they can do is level Gotham to the ground,” Bruce said under his breath. Dick wished it didn’t come to that.

“Well, let’s hope they haven’t destroyed the dining room. It’s not even 8pm yet.”

Bruce didn’t reply. He stared at the door as if the door was the weapon that would be used to execute him.

Time to bite the bullet, Dick guessed. He opened the door.

All in all, it was not the worst it could be. Not one plate or silverware or item was out of place. The ones out of place were his siblings.

Cass was perching on the tallest cabinet. If she stood up, her head would touch the ceiling. As disapproving as he was, Dick was quietly proud of her for being able to climb that high.

Damian, on the other hand, was stuck on the ground. Literally. His shoes were abandoned in one place, while his socks were in another, and he himself was stuck on another place. The glue seemed to be… mashed potatoes? How?

Jason was wrestling with Tim on the ground, but miraculously they managed to steer clear of any breakable objects in the room. There were scorch marks around them. Must be from the earlier explosion, Dick thought.

Steph was standing on the table, steering clear of Tim and Jason, while mixing something with the food already on the plate. Wait. Was that how they managed to create an explosion?

Why were his siblings like this? All Dick wanted was a normal dinner where they could be a family together. Dick sighed, then shouted, “HEY! Cut it out, all of you!”

All heads turned towards him. “Christmas is a time to be together, guys.” Here he paused and glared at each and every one of his siblings. “Whatever ‘together’ I can get out of this dysfunctional group I’ll take.”

“This is being together, Dickface. Are we not in the same room?”

Dick was about to retort when a voice came from the kitchen. “Master Jason, please refrain from speaking profanities again. And do get up from the floor. It is unbecoming of you.” Jason’s expression changed so fast it would have been comical, had Dick not been so grateful that Alfred was here. “Master Tim, you too. Get up from the floor. As for you, Miss Cassandra, come down from the cabinet, please. Cabinets are not for sitting.” Cass smiled sheepishly and quickly climbed down. “Miss Stephanie, do kindly dispose of the chemical in your hand. I believe it is an exploding hazard.” Steph stopped in her tracks. “Last but not least, Master Damian, try sliding of it, instead of lifting your foot.”

“It doesn’t work!”

“Then kindly be patient. I will return with a dissolver.” Alfred put the pie he was holding when he came in on the table and promptly went out again. Nobody dared to move when Alfred was out, except for Bruce. Bruce walked towards the head of the table, sat down, and put his face in his hands.

Dick spoke up. “I hope you’re all happy now. You all pissed off Alfie.”

“No profanities, please, Master Dick. Master Damian, here is the dissolver. Drip a few drops into that… concoction and you should be fine.”

Damian grabbed the dissolver and made quick work of the glue sticking him to the floor. Otherwise, nobody moved.

“Well? Are we having dinner or not?” Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Dick said. “All of you, sit down.” Nobody moved. When they were not asked to move, they all wreck havoc. But when they were asked to move, nobody moved. Typical. “Sit down, all of you!”

Bruce chose that moment to say, “Sit down.” Dick was beginning to feel happy that at least someone was on his side when he realized Bruce’s error. Bruce spoke in the Batman voice.

See, the Batman voice worked well in the field, but outside of it? Not so much. They all even made a point of doing the opposite of what Bruce said. Dick took a deep breath.

Pandemonium ensued.

***

All in all, it was not the worse Christmas Eve dinner they have had. At least this year nobody was hospitalized.

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dc #lian writes #fic #batfamchristmasstocking 2018

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ourghoststories · 6 years ago

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Silver-tongue and the Sovereign Part 1 [Loki Laufeyson x OC]

Word Count: 1000+

Warnings: Domestic Abuse? sorta, violence,

Another boring day in Trihlorre, I was being constantly looked down on due to my adoption from the land I was birthed in, Northiem; I know not of my true parentage and have instead been taken in by these egotistical cowards, who are now considered my family by many, but not I.

I am Lunera Atlene, Goddess of solemnity and the mind, my family is waging a war, they do not even know the consequences of, it is a war they will not win, but alas, they are too naïve to even consider their spiteful daughter's point of view; Regardless, I was sent into the depths of Asgard, to the yearly Gala they have, to spy and find out important information – which I knew would be unlikely, even with the numerous people of great power.

Many pillars punctured the roof in order to support the oversized roof above my head, in all truth, I had no idea whatsoever of where I was headed, I passed a few guards, who's stray eyes wandered upon my tall figure as I glided through the halls, that's when I heard the voices echo, that's where I then followed.

I was dressed in a silk, green dress with ribbons and a cape, various precious jewels peppered around me and had been embroidered delicately by hand.

After the countless steps I took, I reached where the noise was coming from, voices had tackled the classic music into substitution, all people with big egos were what I could sense, tsk, tsk, how foolish they were- buried in their own self-worth and plethora of greed; this would eventually be their undoing.

Many couples dressed in stunning, priceless jewels and gowns- hues of bright colours and patterns, carelessly littered the ballroom, feigning their love for one another- and those, the few that were real, disgusted me... How could they claim they had truly felt love? When they had not felt the wrath, and scars it left behind; it made me feel ill, but I had to focus on what I was really here for.

I tried to look inconspicuous, little did anyone suspect, I was incognito- and for reasons not of my own, which infuriated me immensely, I was but only a slave to them, whereas in reality, I was so much greater- than they; I dimly grabbed a glass of they drink they were serving.

The aroma wasn't anything different to what I expected, mead, typical- I downed the glass knowing the effects wouldn't become anywhere near prominent before I elegantly placed the glass on the table and exited the room in search of adventure.

The shadows danced off the walls, but, it only humoured me as I continued deeper and deeper into the infamous castle, I heard footsteps of what I could only assume was a guard, before I tried to hide- and failed, as I was shoved against the wall, the cold brick tickling my back.

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?" the man glowered, as he chuckled amusingly- almost as if he had just made me a victim.

His appearance was dark and eerie; his green eyes matched his suit, his black hair was slicked back as an attempt to keep it tame, a mischievous smile danced its way across his pale face... this could only be one man, Loki.

"None of your business, fool" I spat in retaliation.

"Feisty, just how I like them... Oh, but it is... you see, when some fair maiden is snooping around my dearest house, it is my job to make it my problem" he mocked, tracing my face with his finger.

"have you no respect Loki? I am far from what you dismiss me as, a 'fair maiden', be it? I do not think so, you have reached far beyond into something you wish you had not. I could rip your innards from your body if I wanted" I said darkly.

Loki chuckled darkly "have I really pried into something you wish I had not?".

"If only you knew... I am not going to elaborate for a nosey trickster such as yourself" I said plainly.

"You humour me, Lady...?".

"Ha, you think I will tell you that? Then you are an even bigger fool than I once thought, no, to you I will remain nameless" I taunted.

"Amusing. Regardless, I will find out who you are... You never answered my question, what are you doing down here in the archives?" he chuckled, still pinning me to the wall.

"to answer your question, I got lost... I was trying to get back to the ballroom" I lied, effortlessly- although I assumed he could see straight through it.

"I see... I shall escort you back then" he laughed, not believing in my lie.

"If you wish, though, I do not require it" I dismissed as he moved backwards to let me walk freely.

"What brings you to this amazing Gala?" he asked as we walked back, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

"If I told you that, I'm afraid it would put me in some trouble, and that, I do not need right now- not that my family would care..." I trailed off.

"oh? You have family issues as well?" he asked, fastening his pace so he was walking beside me.

"do you take me as a moronic creature? If I revealed that, you would know why I was here" I said strictly, getting nervous- I didn't like to talk about it.

"fair enough, but, I will find out" he replied, as quick as lightning.

"that I do know, and whenever you do, it will be fine, just not now- it will be too risky... I would tell you but, trust is something I don't have with many, especially you"

"Very well. I suggest you do not 'accidently stumble' upon the archives again, especially if the guards – or heaven forbid, Odin catches you" he warned uncharacteristically.

"that, I will not do, I appreciate the warning Loki. I believe we have arrived at our- or my, destination" I nodded gratefully, as we walked into the hall once more.

Some classical music lulled the room, making the talk die down, "Would you like this dance?" Loki asked, placing his hand on my waist.

I chuckled, glancing down at the floor "I feel that if I disregard your invitation... You may be displeased- I wouldn't want such an offer to go to waste though. Don't think I will ever listen to you, because you are mistaken".

He raised his hands in surrender, "I wouldn't dare hit a woman, unless of course I had to".

"You would be right about that- let us not hesitate" he grinned widely.

Loki gently placed his hands either side of my waist, while I placed mine of his shoulders "you know, you are naïve to think that anything will come of this" I explained.

"Oh, I know, but it won't stop me from trying to get to know you" he laughed.

Everyone's attention was averted to the two elegant souls, gliding on the dancefloor "what? Do you all have nothing better to glare at... voiceless-pillocks, the lot of you" I hissed.

They glared for a while longer before they turned back to what they were previously doing, "hmm? She has class? Who would've thought?" he muttered to himself.

"you won't be surprised when you find out about me, although I don't believe you'll find much, apart from my adoption records" I said firmly.

Loki cocked his eyebrow in surprise, "trust me when I say, I know all too well, how that feels" he said sympathetically almost? No, more like agreement.

"I don't trust you but I believe you Loki, it is time for me to leave, I have got what I needed- maybe even a little more, thank you for your hospitality" I bowed before I exited, leaving Loki speechless and standing shocked.

I headed back to Heimdall "Lady Lunere, do you wish to head back to Trihlorre?" he asked, readying his spear.

"yes please Heimdall, I owe you, conflict between our two realms was never my intent, I thank you graciously" I smiled thankfully.

"it is no problem, you don't owe me anything" he smiled, before he sent me back to where I dreaded most.

When I returned home, I headed straight back to my chambers to take a long, deep sleep.

A/N

Also just a warning all the chapters have heaps of words, like 1000 - 2000+ so enjoy the content.

So I wrote this last year... I just stumbled upon it again and have started writing some more to it because it didn't (and still doesn't) have an ending, I'm super proud of this story so far and have been eager to post it for ages. Tell me what y'all think x

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years ago

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Our Own Demons

Part 1/? - A Bolt from the Blue Part 2/? - A Different World Part 3/? - Stark At Home Part 4/? - Pot Roast Night Part 5/? - Space-Pie Continuum Part 6/? - Energy Signature Part 7/? - Miss Potts Part 8/? - Bot from Beyond Part 9/? - Even the Odds Part 10/? - Miss Potts Arrives Part 11/? - Truth Hurts Part 12/? - The Third Reality Part 13/? - Thor and Odinson

What if Tony Stark really were the villain of the Marvel universe? How would that work? Tony himself is about to find out, as he battles his inner demons (and some outer ones, too) across a multiverse of infinite possibilities.

Getting in touch with this mysterious Thor who was not Odin’s son was evidently a job for the ladies. Miss Potts, Dr. Ross, and Director Hill gathered at one end of the room to make some phone calls, leaving Tony and his double at the other end of the table.

“You never mentioned how you’re doing,” the other said suddenly.

“Hmm?” Tony looked at him. The other man was munching on a muffin from a box in the middle of the table, and eyeing Tony with what appeared to be suspicion.

“You’re a little banged-up, yourself,” he pointed out.

“I know.” Tony rubbed a line of scratches on his arm. He’d seen his reflection in the mirror that morning: scrapes and cuts everywhere, a split lip and a collection of bruises that were doubtless going to turn all sorts of fascinating colours over the next week or so. Even the oldest of his own suits were better at protecting the wearer than the Proof of Concept, but that very name was enough to tell Tony that the suit had never been intended for use in combat. Besides, Tony’s physical condition wasn’t all that important to him. Not when he’d been here two days, with no way to know what was happening back in his own reality.

“Well?” the other prompted.

Tony shrugged. “I’ve had worse, too.”

“I figured,” said the other. “Good to know some things don’t change. Spending the night with Miss Potts probably helped, too.”

Tony blinked, then shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he assured him. “I just explained to her what was happening and then we both went to bed. She slept on the sofa, I took the armchair.”

“So you didn’t…?” the other raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Tony snorted. “She’s not my Miss Potts. I did drop a hint or two…”

“No.” The other held up a hand. “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear about it ever again.”

“You’re really surly today,” Tony observed. “Is it pain or jealousy or what?”

“It’s when-did-this-bullshit-become-my-life, that’s what it is,” said the other.

“You should see my life,” Tony told him. “You wanna come visit when we’re done?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you drive my R8,” Tony suggested.

“I think I’m okay,” the other told him.

There were several seconds of silence. Tony decided to change the subject.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“That’s dangerous,” his double drawled.

It was, wasn’t it? Thinking led to building, and building, at least where Tony was concerned, tended to lead to thinks blowing up and people dying. It seemed to be a genetic Stark trait, at least in Tony’s own reality. He didn’t say that aloud, though. “I’ve been wondering what somebody from another universe would be doing that would kick me out of mine.”

The other cocked his head. “You think somebody from Reality B was trying to get in, and they had to move you out of the way.”

“Great minds think alike.” Tony nodded. This was either the best or worst possible situation to apply that phrase to, and he had no idea which.

“But fools rarely differ,” the other noted. “What’s in your reality that somebody from another one would want? It can’t be the tesseract because he’s obviously got one of those.”

That was a more difficult question. The tesseract was the most powerful thing Tony knew of, and the only one that came to mind as worth crossing dimensions for. Other than that… “I don’t know,” he said. “My reality just had some bad stuff go down in it, but from what little I saw that seemed to be strictly local. Seeing as he was specifically gunning for us with that robot, it’s got to be something one of us would have.” More likely Tony himself, for the simple reason that he had more stuff. “I don’t know what I have that another one of me would want to take away.”

The other snorted with cynical laughter. “Money, power, and the woman of your dreams all come to mind,” he observed.

Tony twitched. His counterpart was just being a jerk, trying to come up with something that would hurt as much as you just broke her heart, but the idea of another him somehow harming Pepper made him feel downright sick. The alternate could just walk in and say hello, and Pepper would have no way of knowing she shouldn’t trust him until it was too late. He had to physically shake his head and arms to clear the awful mental picture. It didn’t make sense anyway, Tony told himself. What would an alternate version of himself gain from that?

Any man who would deliberately hurt Pepper wasn’t Tony Stark, he thought. Even if he looked like him, even if he had the suits and all the other trimmings, wishing harm to Pepper was the deal-breaker that would make him unworthy of the name.

He realized that the other was looking at him, and had seen his terrified expression and his violent frisson. “I’m sorry,” the other said.

“I…” Tony licked his lips. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too.” Did the other realize what he was apologizing for? Did it matter? “Anyway, the guy who built the robot must have had money, too. That contraption would have cost more than some people’s yearly salary – and when I say some people I’m not talking about the ones who serve coffee for a living.”

“Just because he’s got money doesn’t mean he’s got the other stuff,” his double said.

“But he could get it in his own universe,” Tony said. If he’d wanted more money, more power, or more women, he certainly wouldn’t have had to go to another reality to find them. He probably wouldn’t even have to get up off the couch. “Maybe when I get back, I can ask him.” Whatever it was, it had to be something the bad guy knew, or at least believed, that Tony would fight for.

Maybe what he wanted was the world itself. Maybe something awful had happened in his. Maybe the Chi’Tauri had taken over. Maybe SHIELD had nuked New York. Maybe what he wanted wasn’t to get in to Tony’s reality, but to get out of his own.

“You know, we don’t know for sure that it’s another one of us,” the other said.

“Yeah, we do,” said Tony. Nobody knew Iron Man well enough to build that robot, except for Tony himself.

“No, we don’t,” said the other. “Not until we meet him. Not everything’s about you, you know.”

“Okay, now you sound like Captain America,” said Tony.

“Who?” asked the other.

“Forget it,” Tony shook his head.

It was towards evening when JANIS’ voice spoke up: Hey, Tony and other Tony, Miss Potts wanted me to let you know that Thor and the Odinson just arrived on the helipad. She’d like you to come back up to the conference room to meet with them.

Tony’s double was working on the broken suit – he’d fished the pieces out of the barrel of saline and was now taking them apart, pulling out whatever moving parts seemed salvageable. He hadn’t looked like he wanted help and so Tony hadn’t offered. He’d spent a lot of the day lying on the sofa playing useless little games on his counterpart’s phone, and had become very good at slicing computer-generated fruit in half but he felt lazy and unwanted.

When the announcement came on, Tony’s double jumped a little, dropping a tool that clattered on the floor. That, in turn, startled Tony, who dropped the phone. It hit the concrete floor, and the screen cracked.

“Whoops,” said Tony. “I’ll pay for that.”

“No, you won’t,” said the other firmly. “Come on, let’s get up there.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you wanted to get rid of me,” Tony observed. “I wanna meet this Thor who isn’t Odin’s son.” He still wasn’t quite sure how that worked.

Five minutes later, he found out. When they walked into the conference room, the women were already there – and so was possibly the most intimidating couple Tony had ever seen.

The one he would have identified as Thor, but who was evidently not, was the man. He wore his hair long with a short beard, and was dressed in street clothes: a green t-shirt, a black hoodie, jeans, and a denim jacket. He could have walked down a street and nobody would have taken a second look except possibly to observe that he was obnoxiously tall and good-looking, were it not for the fact that he was carrying a gigantic battleaxe across his shoulders. Tony wondered if he needed a permit for that. Maybe he didn’t. It definitely wasn’t a concealed weapon.

The one who must’ve actually been Thor was the woman. She, too, was absurdly tall, nearly six foot, but where Odinson was built like a weightlifter, she had the lean, wiry body of a sprinter. She was dressed in armor and leather, with a long red cape and a helmet that covered the top half of her face. Her flowing brown hair spilled out from underneath this down her back, moving as if in a breeze, and in her right hand was the implement that made her Thor – the hammer.

“My ladies, Virginia, Elizabeth, and Maria,” Odinson greeted the women. “Always a pleasure to have your company.”

“Thank you, Odinson,” said Miss Potts with a warm smile. She shook his hand.

“I must apologize for our lateness,” he added. “The Nine Realms are full of turmoil.”

“You’ve got your priorities,” Miss Potts assured him.

The woman, meanwhile, approached the door to greet Tony and his counterpart. “Which one of you is the real Mr. Stark?” she asked. The helmet gave her voice a lot of reverb – or maybe it was just the fact that she was a goddess.

Tony was about to say that he was, but at the last moment he remembered that by the standards of this reality, that wasn’t true. “He is,” he said. “I’m apparently cousin Arno from Italy.”

“And you two successfully created an Einstein-Rosen bridge with another universe?” asked Thor, leaning closer to them.

Under the echo, there was something awfully familiar about her voice. “It wasn’t intentional,” said Tony. “The first time, I kind of just got caught in one.”

“And the second, somebody else made it in an attempt to kill us,” said the other.

“But that’s incredible!” the woman exclaimed. She set the hammer down on the table and pulled her helmet off – and before Tony’s eyes, the rest of the armor melted away, leaving behind a tiny, enthusiastically smiling woman wearing an oversized sweater and leggings. It was Jane Foster.

In that moment he remembered what the Thor of his reality had said the inscription on Mjolnir meant: whosoever holds this hammer, should he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor. In a world where Pepper was Iron Woman and Betty Ross was the Hulk, of course Dr. Foster was worthy.

“I mean,” she went on, plopping herself down across from the two men, “we’re talking about actually getting two parallel layers of higher-dimensional spacetime to connect with each other – under normal circumstances, brane theory suggests that’s a cataclysm, and somebody out there is just popping robots through it like it’s nothing!”

Tony glanced at his counterpart for any sign that this situation was weird. He saw none. It seemed that Dr. Foster popping in and out of Thor mode to fangirl about science was just how she rolled.

“I don’t know if I’d say like it’s nothing,” said the other.

“I’m sure there was some effort involved,” Tony agreed. “But I need to get back to my own reality before anybody I know there gets hurt.”

“And I need him out of mine before he ruins my life,” said the other.

“He says that as if he has a life,” Tony said.

The other glared at him. “We’ve got kind of an idea how it works, but we need the tesseract.”

Dr. Foster nodded. “Odinson! Did you hear that?”

“I did,” he replied, looking up from his conversation with the women. “My father will be loath to grant access to it, after what happened the last time mortals made use of it.”

“And the time before that,” said Hill.

“You can ask really nicely?” Tony said. “The fate of entire universes may be at stake here.”

“I shall do my best,” the Odinson promised. “Jane, would you be so good as to summon the Bifrost for me?”

“Always happy to,” said Dr. Foster.

#fanfic #tony stark #iron man

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rose-of-pollux · 6 years ago

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The Shakespearean Riddles (MFU oneshot)

Title: The Shakespearean Riddles Rating: G Summary: A mysterious message sends Napoleon on a Shakespearean scavenger hunt with his partner by his side. Notes: This is my usual yearly fic in honor of what would have been Robert Vaughn’s birthday!

Cross-posted to ff.net and AO3 if you prefer reading there, can’t link due to the new linking restrictions...

Napoleon smiled in satisfaction as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Another year older, and yet, there was not a single wrinkle or gray hair to betray that fact—much to his satisfaction.

“Ponce de León, eat your heart out,” he murmured.

The smell of pancakes and syrup finally succeeded in drawing him away from his reflection; though Illya was not as accomplished a chef as Napoleon was, pancakes were among the things he could make, and since it was Napoleon’s birthday, naturally, he wanted to prepare breakfast that day.

Illya already had the plates set up—one for each of them, plus one more for Baba Yaga, who had already started on her pancake.

“Happy Birthday, Napoleon,” Illya greeted him.

“Thank you, Tovarisch,” Napoleon grinned.

The two of them feasted on the pancakes.

“So, when are Ma and Dad coming over?”

“Evening,” Illya said. “I figured I would treat us all to a dinner in your honor—your choice of eatery, naturally.”

“I’ll mull my choices over and let you know--” Napoleon began, but he was cut off by an odd sound on their apartment door. “What is that?”

Baba Yaga perked her ears up and looked in the direction of the door, but, otherwise, didn’t react, prompting Napoleon to get up and open the door. There was no one at the door, but as he turned, he stared as he saw a piece of paper taped to the door.

“Illya! Look at this!”

Illya got up from the table and headed over to Napoleon as he removed the paper from the door.

“What is that?”

“A message that was intended for me, by the looks of it,” Napoleon said, glancing from the paper to his partner. “Hang on, it’s a poem—a riddle of some kind… Look at this…”

He held up the paper so that Illya could read it; the note was typewritten to avoid having the handwriting traced--

Greetings, Mr. Solo; will you play my game? The average man would find this quest hard. But I wish to match wits with you, Mr. Solo-- How well do you know the one and only Bard?

First, I refer to The Winter’s Tale, And the beast that saw Antigonus depart. Go to where the beast now battles-- Against another beast in the city’s heart.

“A battle of wits…?” Napoleon mused. “With Shakespeare as the theme? I don’t know who’s behind this, but I will not lose!”

“I have every ounce of faith in you,” Illya said. “But be careful—it could be a THRUSH trap.”

“I don’t think so; they don’t really know of my love of Shakespeare. But of course, we’ll be vigilant. Now, then, this riddle…. Well, the first half of the clue is easy enough.”

“Is it?” Illya asked.

“Sure—The Winter’s Tale? Antigonus and a beast? This is obviously referring to Antigonus’s fate, summed up in a famous stage direction--‘Exit, pursued by a bear.’ But where would a bear be fighting another beast in ‘the city’s heart?’ Pretty sure bear fighting is against the law.”

“To say nothing of the fact that urban-dwelling bears are not that common… At least here. I could tell you some stories from Russia…”

“I’d believe them,” Napoleon said, and he went back to pondering. “Let’s see… Not the Bronx Zoo—they wouldn’t let their bears fight.”

“I think not,” Illya agreed.

“Maybe it’s metaphorical…” Napoleon mused. “Bears are used in a lot of symbolic things—bear markets, for instance, or…” He trailed off. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“The two beasts in battle in the heart of the city—the bear and the bull! The Stock Exchange, Illya!”

“…Yes, of course. Well, that’s it; you’ve solved it.”

“There’s more to this than just one clue,” Napoleon said, a spark of intrigued determination igniting in his eyes. “A battle of wits means that there’ll be more clues—most likely, we’ll find the second one at the Stock Exchange! I’m going to head over there; you coming?”

“Of course; I relish the opportunity to stand back and watch how your mind works…” Illya mused.

Baba Yaga let out a “mrrah” and followed them out the door, dragging a pancake along with her.

************************

Arriving on Wall Street amidst the usual hustle and bustle of the crowd, Napoleon couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary—at least, not until a paper airplane flew out of nowhere and smacked him in the face, prompting Illya to chuckle and Baba Yaga to leap up and swat at it.

“Well, at least we know it isn’t a THRUSH plot; they wouldn’t be throwing paper airplanes,” the blond mused.

“Hmm,” Napoleon replied, scanning the crowd to see if he could spot who had chucked the paper airplane at him. Finding no likely suspects, he unfolded the airplane to read the clue, which had been typewritten like the last one--

Well done solving the first clue; Find the next one, should you choose to play, Where the Bard’s tale of star-crossed lovers Was set, in film, in the modern day.

“Well, Romeo and Juliet, of course,” Napoleon said. “…Unless this is referring to the play-within-a-play about Pyramus and Thisbe in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but I doubt it—Romeo and Juliet is what everyone thinks about when you use the phrase ‘star-crossed.’ And the modernized film adaptation, of course, must be West Side Story! So, the Upper West Side is where we need to go!”

“…You do realize how big the Upper West Side is?” Illya said. “We could be there all day looking for another paper airplane.”

“…Right…” Napoleon said, staring back at the paper. “Well, the specific location in the movie is Lincoln Square…”

“That narrows it down somewhat…”

Napoleon suddenly snapped his fingers.

“San Juan Hill! I think some of the on-location filming for the movie even took place there!”

They got in a cab and were headed there; Napoleon seemed deep in thought as they rode on the way.

“What are you thinking about?” Illya asked. “Having second thoughts about the location?”

“No, I’m confident about that,” Napoleon said. “I’m just trying to figure out who is doing this, and why. Is it someone trying to dethrone me as the reigning Shakespeare trivia champion at the office?”

Illya shrugged.

“I suppose we’ll find out once we follow all the clues…”

“…Guess so…” Napoleon replied, but it still didn’t stop him from being in deep thought about it.

Nevertheless, they had barely gotten out of the cab at San Juan Hill when Napoleon found himself taking another paper airplane to the side of his head. Once again looking around and seeing no one who stood out, he held up the next clue for Illya to read.

Clue three harkens to a Danish prince, And two he once considered friends. From Avon to Broadway, an untold tale Now chronicles their unfortunate ends.

Napoleon’s grin had grown even further.

“It’s Hamlet,” he said. “Well, to be more specific, it’s referring to the unofficial spinoff-and-pastiche that was just brought over to Broadway—Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. I’ve been meaning to see that, you know?”

“…Now why did I not think to get you tickets to it for your birthday?” Illya chided himself.

“I’ll take a rain check,” Napoleon said. “But, at any rate, I know where the next clue is—the play is at the Alvin Theatre on Broadway, so that’s where we need to go!”

He was so excited, he was about ready to take off down the street before realizing that it would be a long trek on foot; he gathered Baba Yaga in one arm and hailed a cab with the other, and Illya just shook his head in amusement.

****************************

Napoleon spent a few minutes admiring the marquee of the Alvin Theatre, clearly wishing he could see the show; he was pulled from his dreaming by Baba Yaga pawing at a paper that had been stuck to the door of the theatre.

“I think she is eager to continue with this quest, as well,” Illya observed, taking the cat from Napoleon as he removed the paper. “Is that the next clue?”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Napoleon mused. He held up the clue for Illya to read again—

In halls where treasures are on display, And time, across centuries, does span, Find the statue of the unfortunate king Who was slain at the hands of an honorable man.

“Well, the play is easy enough,” Napoleon said. “Julius Caesar. Brutus, who orchestrated his assassination, was repeatedly—and sarcastically—referred to as an honorable man in Antony’s speech. Obviously, the hall of treasures is a museum… except that there are an almost endless supply of museums here in New York.”

“While that is true, I am sure that the museums which would have anything of Caesar’s on display would be limited,” Illya said. “I think we can rule out the Guggenheim, for instance—one would not find statues of Roman rulers in a gallery full of modern art and other inexplicable pieces.”

“You’re still sore about the Pop Art Affair?”

“…Wouldn’t you be?”

“…Yeah, I would,” Napoleon admitted. “Okay, let’s get back to this, then. Now that I think about it, you’re right -- we can narrow it down to two museums: the Natural History Museum, or the Met.”

“That sounds about right,” Illya assessed.

“And the Natural History Museum, though it does have stuff on ancient civilizations, probably wouldn’t be the place for a statue of Caesar, either; they tend to focus more on everyday life. So… It has to be at the Met! Hey--!”

Napoleon looked around furiously as a paper airplane flew out of nowhere and smacked him in the face again. Opening it, he saw that it was blank—but two tickets to the Met fell out.

“Really!?” Napoleon called. “I solved the clue—you’re still going to make us go all the way to the Met to get the next one?”

There was no response, of course, and Napoleon sighed, shaking his head as he glanced at the tickets.

“You’re still going to go, aren’t you?” Illya asked.

“Well, of course; I’ve got my honor as a Shakespeare buff to defend! Once more, unto the breach, Tovarish!”

It was now Illya’s turn to shake his head, but, nevertheless, he followed his eager partner to the Met.

In order to make sure that the tickets didn’t go to waste, the duo spent some time looking around at some of the exhibits. Illya had managed to conceal Baba Yaga in his sweater, wearing a coat loosely over his sweater to prevent the cat-shaped lump from standing out. She behaved herself, though there were a couple of times in the Egyptian exhibits where she peeked out to look at some statues of Bastet.

“She’s getting restless, Napoleon; we should find Caesar and the next clue and go,” he said.

“I still say it’s because she knows that’s her Ma, but sure,” Napoleon insisted. At any rate, he was eager to get the next clue.

Sure enough, they found the statue head of Caesar, and though Napoleon was on the alert, he was still blindsided by another paper airplane.

“…I must admit, I am impressed at our riddlemaster’s ability to elude my spy instincts,” he said, as a quick scan around the gallery yielded nothing.

Cross a bridge for this final clue, And you will have won the day. Recall where Falstaff met his match, When he thought himself besieged by fae.

“…So, the last one—naturally, the trickiest…” Napoleon mused, as they now left the Met and Baba Yaga emerged from hiding and stretched. Napoleon absently gave her some ear scritches as he pondered over the clue. “Let’s see… Falstaff first showed up in Henry IV, Part I and then Part II. By Henry V, he had died. Legend has it, though, that the queen requested Shakespeare for another play with Falstaff—and the end result was, supposedly, The Merry Wives of Windsor. The fae weren’t in the historical plays, so it has to be Windsor. …Of course, it wasn’t really fairies in Windsor, either; it was a trick, and they were fake, but he thought they were real.”

“And the clue refers to the location where this occurred,” Illya said.

“Yeah, and that’s where it gets confusing,” Napoleon said. “This took place by an oak tree in Windsor Forest; Falstaff was dressed as Herne the Hunter, and the tree came to be known as Herne’s Oak after the play made it popular. Except… the real-life tree is long gone—and it would have been in Windsor Great Park, since the forest had been renamed. And there was no bridge in the play, like the clue is referring to. It can’t be that we have to go all the way to England!”

“That would seem a bit excessive,” Illya intoned.

“No kidding…” Napoleon said. “It must be some sort of parallel to Herne’s Oak that we have here in New York…” He trailed off, looking at Central Park all around them. “…I guess you could compare Central Park to Windsor Great Park… But that still doesn’t tie the bridge in to anything.”

“So you are admitting defeat?”

“Never,” Napoleon insisted, grabbing a map from one of the information kiosks nearby, pouring over it. “I don’t know of any notable oak trees near bridges…”

“Nor do I,” Illya mused.

“There was a Shakespeare Garden in the park, but it’s gone to seed over the years, so that can’t be it…”

“Was that pun necessary…?”

“Absolutely.”

Illya shook his head again as Napoleon suddenly froze, still staring at the map.

“…I think I found it…” he said. “Oak Bridge! This has to be it—and it’s just a ten-minute walk!”

He took off down the pathway, prompting Illya and Baba Yaga to chase after him.

They soon found the bridge, and Napoleon paused as he crossed it, finding a large picnic lunch spread on a blanket by the lake side.

“…The clues led to here?” he asked, baffled. “A picnic?”

“Yes, a picnic,” Illya said, and he smirked. “Happy Birthday, Napoleon.”

Napoleon turned to face his partner as it sunk in.

“You mean you…? The clues…?”

“I got to thinking, what could be something meaningful I could give you for your birthday?” Illya said, smiling. “Buying things… Well, anyone can do that—and you know I tend to balk at that as the default option for occasions such as these. And then I realized—a way for you to have an experience you would truly enjoy, by using your skills and knowledge of Shakespeare! And I was right—you have been enjoying yourself thoroughly all morning; I chose well.”

Napoleon let out an impressed, surprised chuckle.

“Well, thanks,” he said, once he managed to speak again. He hugged Illya in gratitude, but then paused and let go. “Hang on…. You were with me the entire time—how did you get the paper airplanes rigged to get me without them being disturbed by passersby?”

“Ah, well, I had a couple of accomplices to toss the paper for me…” Illya smirked, and he gestured as Cora and Leopold Solo came out of hiding, bringing the last of the food. Baba Yaga meowed and greeted the two of them, purring.

“Ma? Dad?” Napoleon asked, stunned. “Illya, you told me they were coming in the evening!”

“I never specified which evening—it just happened to be yesterday.”

“…Sly Russian…”

Cora hugged Napoleon as Leopold clapped him on the back with one hand while holding Baba Yaga in his other arm.

“Happy Birthday, Son,” Leopold said.

“Thanks,” he grinned. “Well, I have to admit, I didn’t expect this present…”

“Oh, there’s more,” Cora said, taking four tickets out of her purse. “Tickets to tonight’s showing of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.”

“Ah, that’s why I didn’t think to get them for you…!” Illya said, in a tone of mock surprise.

Napoleon shook his head in amusement again.

“Well, shall we continue this discussion over lunch?” Cora offered.

The men were all in agreement.

And as Napoleon sat down to eat, he had to reflect on how the picnic and the tickets were just the icing on an already blessed cake—for here, right now, he had everything he ever could have wanted.

The End

#Happy Birthday Robert!#Napoleon Solo #Illya Kuryakin #the man from uncle #mfu fic #napollya

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