#it took too long to do the outline of the map i swear

[creaturefeaster]

all drawn with my stupid broken mouse so it's no masterwork but still. here take it!!!!!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[winchestershiresauce]

Don’t Leave My Mind

Summary: Daryl hadn’t visited you in Hilltop for a while, but the sex was worth the wait.

Daryl x F!Reader

2158 words

Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral sex (female receiving), swearing

If you interact with this in any way, including reading, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18.

--

When you and Daryl got together, you'd learned rather quickly that he wasn't a big fan of public displays of affection. Luckily, it also didn't take long for you to realize that he more than made up for that behind closed doors. 

You were reminded of this one afternoon when he'd made his way to Hilltop after not having stopped by in a couple weeks. You knew he was out doing his thing, living in the woods and looking for any sign of Rick, but you had to admit you'd missed him. When he snuck up on you as you did your gardening in one of the community plots, you were ecstatic and relieved to see him, but it was quickly replaced with worry when he'd grabbed your hand, stated, "Need to talk to you," and dragged you into the trailer you called home. 

The moment the door slammed behind him, you turned to face him and ask what was going on. You were sure something had gone horribly wrong, or was about to go horribly wrong, until he clasped his hand behind your head and pulled your mouth hungrily to his. You let out a muffled sound of surprise against his lips, and he pulled away. Using both hands to push your hair back and frame your face, he held you in place. You searched his eyes for signs of worry or distress, but were surprised not to find any. 

"Daryl, what's the matter?" You gently held his wrists as you looked up into the face of the man you loved. 

"Nuthin'. Missed you," he mumbled as he placed a kiss to your forehead. 

"I missed you too. I always do, but you said you needed to talk to me. What's wrong?" 

"What's wrong is I ain't tasted you in weeks, woman," he growled, diving in to nip at your neck. He shifted so one of his hands dropped to your lower back and he pressed your body into his. You couldn't help the groan that escaped as you felt his hard length press against your center and before you knew it, you were suffocating him with hungry, sloppy kisses.

As you grabbed his face in your hands so that you could push your mouth feverishly against his, he held your body flush against his. Without stopping for breath or to see where you were stepping, Daryl walked you backwards until the backs of your legs hit the bed. Before you'd even realized he'd pulled away, he had your shirt off and his mouth was back on yours again. His tongue slid over yours, mapping the inside of your mouth like it was new to him. He pulled the left cup of your bra down to expose your breast, and you cried out as he wrapped his lips around the pert nipple. 

"Fuck, Daryl," you whined as you clawed at the hem of his shirt, desperate to pull it off of him and feel his bare skin against yours. He groaned at your words and moved his mouth off your nipple to switch his ministrations to the other, immediately grabbing and kneading the breast he'd just left alone. When you finally managed to get a hold of the hem of his shirt and pull it off, the momentary separation only spurred him on further. 

He pushed you back onto the bed, moving to kneel on the floor next to it. You sat up on your elbows to watch as he unceremoniously worked to unbutton, and help you shed, your jeans. He pulled them down your legs and sat back on his heels to admire the view of you splayed out before him, your panty-clad pussy right at his eye level. As he ran his rough, calloused fingertips up your soft thighs, you saw the way he looked at you as if he was still surprised that you were real. No matter how long the two of you were together, he never could believe that someone as soft and kind and sensual as you were could see value in someone like him. But he saw the way you looked at him, too. People could say anything without meaning it but no one could fake the way your eyes sparkled when he made you laugh, or the way you bit your lip when you didn't think he could see you staring at him as he worked with his hands. He knew because he looked at you the same way, whether you were working to keep up morale with those around you or laying, mostly naked, on the bed in front of him. 

Seeing him lost in thought as he dragged his hands up and down your thighs and stared somehow simultaneously at you and through you, you reached out for him. You put one hand on either cheek and leaned forward to kiss him. It lacked some of the desperate hunger your kisses contained earlier, but adoration was simply laced in with the lust. He got up just enough to lean over you, kissing you as he laid you back down on the bed. The kisses he placed down your body, starting with your neck and collarbone and moving down to the only article of clothing you still wore, were both soft and steeped with need. He moved so excruciatingly slowly down your torso that by the time his kisses peppered the waistband of your panties, you were holding your breath with anticipation. 

You could feel that you were wetter than you'd been in quite a long time as he continued to leave unhurried open-mouthed kisses across the front of your simple white cotton panties. The warmth of his mouth on your clothed mound was almost more than you could handle. With the way your now-damp panties did little to shield your pussy from his hot breath as he hovered over where you needed him most, you were sure you were going to lose your mind. It took everything in you, but you could tell that Daryl needed this slow, intentional dance to reconnect with you, so you refrained from pressing his face into your core where you wanted him. 

Luckily, allowing Daryl the time and space to reconnect with your body was more than good for both of you. You really couldn't see a downside to the way he slowly teased his tongue over your inner thighs until it met the elastic that held your panties in place. He traced the outline with his tongue, torturing you with the anticipation of having his mouth just a few inches away from the wet hot need that awaited him. When the rough stubble on his chin tickled the sensitive spot on your inner thigh, your body involuntarily tensed as you waited for him to touch you the way that you needed. You couldn't help the full body shudder when he finally pulled the crotch of your panties aside and dipped his tongue into the wet space between your lips. 

"Oh, God." You hadn't even noticed right away that it was your voice moaning those words, you were so entranced by the delicate and tantalizing movements of Daryl's tongue along your slit. He flattened his tongue and dragged it over your hole and up before he made it into a point and flicked it over your clit. If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that the man loved to eat pussy. In fact, you weren't sure who loved it more when he ate your pussy: you or him. 

He put all he had into the task at hand, licking all around your entrance, labia, and clit before flicking over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, and slipping two of his fingers inside to caress your g-spot. You writhed with pleasure as he placed sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kisses over your aching clit. It felt like he was trying to lap up all your wetness before you could make more, and he paid so much attention to his work that you knew there could be nothing else on his mind. Not that there could be anything else on yours either, with the way you panted and whined at the way he fucked you magnificently with his fingers and gave you a thorough tonguing. 

When he slid a third finger into you, stretching you out deliciously before slamming unrelentingly into the sensitive nerves on the top wall of your cunt, it knocked the breath out of you. Your vision darkened for a moment and you saw stars, your whole body tensing stiffer than you thought possible in preparation for the onslaught of your pending orgasm. "Fuck," you panted over and over like it was a mantra. 

"Mmm, cum fer me, Y/N," Daryl growled against you, so close and so deep that you felt the vibrations shoot through your nerves like electricity through a live wire. That was all it took, knowing he wanted to feel you cum just as desperately as you wanted to cum was enough to set off your orgasm as if it were the earthquake that triggered the tsunami. 

Your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers as he worked you through your climax with fervor. You screamed, entirely unable to care about who might hear, which drew a deep moan from Daryl. Precum leaked out of his tip and he worried for a moment that he might cum in his pants like a teenager. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as your body began to relax and your breathing attempted to return to normal. Daryl climbed up on the bed and hovered over you, letting out a deep grunt. His cock was aching to be inside you but he wanted to let his desperation die down just enough that he wouldn't cum the second he slid through your slick wetness. 

You ran your hands up his sides as you simultaneously came down from your high and got riled up again. He dropped his mouth to your throat, kissing with less fervor but more intention than before. 

"You gonna fuck me, Daryl?" you asked as you moved to undo his pants and reach your hand inside. He hissed as your thumb brushed over the swollen head of his cock, and you smirked, taking that reaction as an affirmative. 

He groaned into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your hand around his shaft. You grinned and placed a kiss to the side of his head, loving the effect this all was having on him. You pulled your hand away for just a moment to push his jeans down his hips and over his ass, allowing you to pull his stiff cock out of its confines. 

"Ugh, wanna be inside ya," he grumbled as he pulled away to stand up. He slid his jeans the rest of the way off so that you were both naked, and he climbed on top of you again. 

"Wanna feel you inside me," you mewled. As he pressed a firm but loving kiss to your lips, he guided his cock to your slick and waiting entrance. He hummed in delight as he sunk into you. He moved slowly to let you adjust to him, but you needed him. You wrapped your legs around his hips and jerked your pelvis up toward his, thrusting him in to the hilt. 

"Fuck me," you pleaded. Feeling you wrapped tight around his aching cock fanned the flames of his desire and he smashed his lips into yours. You kissed him back hard as you rocked your hips up to build friction between you. He growled into the kiss when you clenched your walls around his cock, bucking his hips forward and thrusting into you. This started a relentless pace as your body felt folded so that you could kiss his sweet mouth as he fucked you senseless. You hooked your ankles together and moved your legs further up his back to tilt your hips up and give him a better angle, and you keened in ecstasy as the tip of Daryl's cock slammed into your sweet spot. 

"Gonna cum again," you cried as you felt yourself begin to flutter around him. 

He gave a chesty growl as he fucked you with purpose. You took a deep sharp breath in as your second orgasm hit you like a brick wall. His thrusts became short and rough as you spasmed and came around his cock, and soon he was following you over the edge. He slammed into you deep and hard then stilled, and you felt him pulse as he came inside of you. 

"I love you, Daryl," you panted as he collapsed on top of you, his softening cock still inside. 

"Love you," he grumbled into your chest and you couldn't help but grin. You were definitely glad he'd come home to you, even if you knew the woods would call him back. 

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 6

You continue the tale of how you, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter became known as The Marauders.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 6 .:The Making of the Marauders:.

~Previously~

“That was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they had. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year. . .”

“So at this point I knew that they were hiding something else, but not what it was,” you told Harry, continuing on with your story, “But one night we had planned to meet up and use the invisibility cloak to map out the underground tunnels that ran through the storage cellars, and they never showed up. So I snuck into the Gryffindor common room through the secret passage and found their dorm completely empty. But what was there was our work in progress map. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1975  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This isn't going to work,” Peter said flatly, watching James and Sirius draw a large circle in chalk on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

“Not with that attitude it's not,” James said, “if there's a way we can speed up this process I'm willing to give it a go. I don't know how long I can go on with this bloody leaf in my mouth.”

“Is this even real?” Peter sighed, “it looks like what muggles think magic is.”

“It's real all right,” Sirius said, “old, but real. I mean, Transfiguration was founded on the principles of magic circles! I'm not really sure what these runes on the side mean, but it's probably not important.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Peter retorted, “Remus, back me up here.”

He turned towards Lupin, but he had long since dozed off, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the nearly decaying walls in the corner. Peter sighed, taking a piece of paper from the ground and crumpling it into a ball before promptly throwing it in the sleeping boy's face. Lupin jolted awake, realizing what had happened and chucking the paper back at Peter in annoyance.

“Not a moment of peace,” he huffed under his breath.

“Sounds awfully boring,” James said over his shoulder.

“Blimey, what time is it?” Remus said, panicked as he noticed the light had completely gone from the sky, “It's long past sundown.”

“So?” Sirius shrugged.

“So, we told (Y/n) we'd meet them to work on the map at dusk,” Remus said, “They're probably looking for us right now!”

“Oh, they are,” you announced your presence, an unimpressed look on your face as they jumped, whipping around to look at you.

“(Y-Y/n)!” Sirius stuttered, “how did you—”

You held up the map, raising a brow at the four guilty looking boys.

“Right. . .”

“You snuck into our rooms?!” James said incredulously as he saw the map, which he was sure he had left on his bedside table, in your hands.

“You've snuck into my shower before, Potter,” you glared lightly at him.

“Point taken.”

“Okay, look, I'm sorry we didn't show tonight, and I know we've been acting weird,” Sirius sighed, “the truth is—”

“Lupin's a werewolf.” 

The color drained from Remus' face, slightly mortified that you already knew.

“Come on, guys,” you said, “the claw marks and you lot disappearing whenever there's a full moon kind of gave it away. You aren't exactly subtle about it.”

You could sense the intense nervousness in the room, especially from Remus. Ok, so maybe coming right out with it wasn't the best course of action.

“Look,” you said, “if you're worried about anyone else finding out, they won't. I mean, the only reason I even knew you were here is because I'm literally helping you make a magical map that details all the secret passages and shows where everyone is. I won't tell anyone, I swear.”

They still seemed a little unsure, and you bit the inside of your lip slightly.

“If it'll make us even, I'll let you know a secret of my own,” you said, “it can even be future blackmail me if you really don't trust me.”

“No, it's not that, (Y/n),” Remus said as he stepped forward, his throat feeling dry, “it's just, well, I've never really told anyone except the people in this room. Having someone else know. . . it's just a lot to process, but if had to be anyone I'm glad it's you.” He paused for a moment, feeling oddly self-conscious as he regarded you. “When I turn into a werewolf I can't recognize any human as someone I know. I have no control over myself in that state. In the worst case scenario, I could injure or even kill someone I didn't mean to. We originally started taking note of the secret passages and rooms to find a place where I could turn safely and not hurt anyone, and we settled on here. I don't remember much when I come out of it, but. . . I do feel this painful sense of separation each time. Werewolves are pack creatures by nature, so being isolated in that state is. . . agony, if I must be honest. They all figured, I can't recognize humans, but perhaps I could recognize other animals, so. . .”

“They're trying to become animagi,” you finished, “so you won't have to be alone. That's. . . that's actually really sweet,” you said, a breathy laugh escaping you.

Remus thanked Merlin the Shrieking Shack was as dimly lit as it was so his beet red face was at least somewhat less noticeable.

“I agree,” Remus said, turning to his friends and sharing a rare, genuine moment with them. “And, you don't have to tell us your secret,” he said, turning back to you, “it's okay.”

“Hey, I wanted to know,” Sirius said, Peter swiftly elbowing him in the ribs.

“I was actually planning on telling you anyways,” you said, “If you guys are trying to become animagi, I can help you.”

You took a few steps back, bracing yourself against the wall.

“Promise me you won't freak out.”

After receiving a few quick nods, you kicked off the wall. Your body seemed to morph in mid-air, shrinking and re-configuring so fast that by the time you landed on the floor you had been entirely replaced by a large, (e/c)-eyed wolf with fur reminiscent of your hair.

Peter yelped, instinctively putting Sirius in front of him who was gawking at the sight. Remus was in complete shock and you could have sworn you saw James' glasses slip down his face.

In your animal form your heightened senses could sense their fear, and you tried your best to assuage it. You padded around in a circle, sitting down and blinking up at them to try and show them you were in control of your actions. After you figured they'd seen enough, you crawled back into your robes, which had pooled on the floor when you'd transfigured, and willed your body to turn back.

James, Sirius, and Peter looked somewhere in the intersection of shocked and terrified, but Remus looked nothing less than impressed.

“That's amazing, (Y/n),” he said breathlessly, “your transformation was seamless, how long have you had this ability?”

“My aunt had me go through the process when I was nine,” you said, a bitter edge to your voice as you fastened your clothes back around you, “it's not fun, but obviously useful. And thank you, but trust me, it didn't come at all naturally to me. I spent a good part of my winter break stuck with a wolf's hind legs, which is just as inconvenient as it sounds.”

“But this proves that it's possible!” James said, a new rush of energy invigorating him, “we can actually pull this off.”

“If I can manage to keep this sodding leaf from choking me every ten minutes,” Peter grumbled.

“Here, this should help with that,” you said, drawing your wand and pointing it at Peter's mouth. With a simple sticking charm, he suddenly felt the odd sensation of the leaf in his mouth disappearing, only to find it had melded with the flesh on the underside of his tongue.

“It's a long process, but yes, it's possible,” you said to James. Your eyes drifted to the floor where the magic circle and pages of runes were still scattered about, “if you were thinking of taking shortcuts, you might have wanted to read the warning about this spell requiring a blood sacrifice.”

The quartet paled and you laughed at their dumbstruck expressions.

“Kidding,” you grinned, “but seriously, there's no shortcuts. Now look alive, boys. We have a lot of work to do.”

_________________________________________________________

From then on, you helped the four wizards along on their quest to become fully fledged shifters.

“In order to become an animagus, a wizard must keep a Mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire month, even when eating and sleeping,” Peter read aloud from the book they'd snatched from the restricted section, “Next, under a full moon, the wizard must place the leaf in a vial full of dew that has neither been stepped on nor exposed to the sun. The resulting potion must be stored in a dark place, and the following incantation: Amato Animo Animato Animagus, must be recited every morning until an electrical storm arrives, at which point the potion can be taken.”

“Blimey, all that to turn into a bloody cat?” Sirius said, exasperated.

“Well we have the first part almost done,” James said, feeling the faintest outline of the leaf still under his tongue, “Next full moon we'll have to go dew-hunting, I suppose. Looks like you'll have to stick it out for a few more cycles, Moony,” he said to Remus.

“That's alright,” he said, “I've made it this far.”

“He won't be alone for those,” you said, “I'll spend the full moons with him until you guys are ready.”

“What?” James said, looking at you like you'd just told him you were off to join Voldemort, “not a chance, that's way too dangerous.”

“Aw, don't act like you're all concerned about me all of a sudden, Potter,” you smirked. When his expression didn't change it took you aback slightly. He was actually worried about you. “Look, I'm probably the best suited for it anyways,” you said, coughing a bit to coast through the awkward tension, “Remus and I are both wolves, or at least partly. If one of you end up turning into a sheep or something you might be dead meat, not to freak you out or anything.”

“That's reassuring,” Sirius said under his breath.

____________________________________________________________

“You really don't have to do this,” Lupin insisted as you sat on the floor together in the Shrieking Shack later that month.

“I want to,” you assured him, “take it as a thanks for helping me pass Arithmancy. Besides, it's a perfectly fine excuse for me to practice interacting with other animals in my animagus form.”

The boy beside you was quiet for a moment, shoulders tense and jaw set tight. It wasn't that he wasn't happy you were here, he was more grateful than you could know, but he was terrified that he was going to end up hurting you. On top of that was the fact that he didn't want you to see him as he transformed. It wasn't pretty, and it was visibly painful. He didn't want you to think any lower of him, though he knew that fear was irrational.

The calming jazz record that spun on the other side of the room was the only noise between you two for quite some time, but you understood that he needed time to gather his thoughts. This was something so deeply personal you were surprised and a bit honored he allowed you to be here at all. You noticed the photograph that he held in his hands; it was of Hogwarts, taken from the very edge of the forest. The sun was peeking over the horizon, spilling out between the complexly constructed towers that made up the castle's exterior, and casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape.

“It's beautiful,” you said, “the picture.”

“It is,” Remus smiled to himself and nodded, “James gave it to me, as a reminder. He said that matter what happens during the full moon, the sun will always rise on us again.”

“Huh,” you mused softly, “perhaps he isn't such an insufferable jerk after all.”

“Oh, no, he is,” Lupin chuckled, “but he is also a very good friend, and endlessly thoughtful even if he denies it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. You supposed he was.

“Well,” you said, laughing a bit as you shifted in your seat, “this isn't as deep and meaningful as the photo, but I brought something for you.” You reached into your bag, retrieving something that made Remus' eyes widen.

“Where did you get that?” he said, elated as you held out his favorite chocolate bar which had been out of stock at Hogsmeade for weeks now.

“You guys have a secret tunnel that goes right to the Honeydukes cellar and you've never taken advantage of their storage?” you grinned.

Lupin hesitated as he held the bar in his hands.

“So you stole it?”

“I left five dracma in the tip jar,” you rolled your eyes, “I'm not a death eater.”

His smiled returned at that, and he ripped open the familiar foil gratefully.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It's the least I could do,” you said.

“It's really not,” he said, turning to face you fully. You were left a bit breathless as the unexpected intensity of his eyes. “None of this is the least you could do, because the least you could do is nothing,” he continued, rambling, “we were so horrible to someone you consider a dear friend, and you were willing to look past that. You're risking your life by even being with me right now, (Y/n).”

“You don't—”

“I do know that,” Remus said sharply, “I've never been in contact with anyone as a werewolf. The one time I was, I. . .” he trailed off, and it hurt you to see his pained expression, “I just don't know how I'll react.”

“You're saying that as if something bad's already happened,” you said gently, “it'll be okay.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked quietly, equally full of frustration and admiration.

��I'm willing to put my trust in you, Remus. I think it's time you put some trust in yourself.”

Lupin's heart pounded a little harder in his chest. Had you ever called him by his first name before? You looked at him so reassuringly, so confidently. He couldn't understand it, but your words reached him to his core.

“(Y/n). . .” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. A shaky breath escaped him, and your stomach dropped.

“Remus?”

Suddenly you saw something shift in him. His breathing became heavy and his pupils dilated, completely filling his irises in a matter of seconds. He braced himself against the wall as he stumbled to his feet, his skin slowly taking on a gray hue.

“It's happening,” he said, voice deeper and strained, his neck convulsing, “you have to transform, now!”

You didn't waste any time, taking the shape of your wolf form and padding away a cautionary distance. Your stomach churned as you watched Remus yell out, his expression full of pain as his body grew in size, his cries slowly becoming reminiscent of howls. His face contorted in agony as his head morphed into a more animalistic shape, ears growing from his scalp and fur appearing as if his werewolf was fully formed inside him, physically escaping through his skin. You've seen werewolves before, but seeing someone you know actually turn into one, it was completely different. Nothing could have prepared you for this. Seeing anyone in this much pain made your chest tighten harshly.

At last it seemed the transformation was complete. Remus Lupin was gone, and in front of you stood a creature of at least eight feet, perched on his hind legs and towering over you especially in your animal form. You could hear how ragged his breathing had become, his body convulsing with the motion; growing and retracting like a beating heart. You heard a whimper escape his throat, and you could tell he was still recovering from the pain.

You steeled yourself, making the decision to alert him to your presence subtly. You tilted your head upwards, releasing a similar sounding whimper to his. Immediately the werewolf across from you was on high alert, his head snapping towards you and his lips pulling back into a snarl as his ears lowered. You took an instinctive step back, lowering your head slowly. He seemed puzzled by your behavior, which made sense seeing as Lupin told you he never interacted with any other animals during the full moon. His head tilted inquisitively and he took a heavy step forward. You forced yourself to not back away, testing the waters. His eyes narrowed again as he saw you standing your ground, but you quickly sat down, your head tilting to expose your neck slightly. You made doubly sure not to show any signs of aggression; you knew you had no chance against a werewolf at full strength.

However, he seemed to take your queues well. His tail seemed to relax a bit, his eyes returning to their full, round shape as he looked at you with curiosity. You sniffed up at him and he hesitated, but eventually circled around you and did the same. You could almost see the turmoil in him, as a werewolf you doubted anyone he came across treated him with anything less than terror in their eyes, but you were completely relaxed.

He whimpered again, and you were shocked at the sign of submission. You rose to your feet, and he didn't back away. You let out a friendly yip, which he returned, and you felt the weight lift off your chest. You leaped to the side, and he followed you, running alongside you as you bounded across the room, practically leaping off the walls. You jumped at each other playfully, rolling across the floor in a mess of fur. You smiled inwardly as this continued throughout the night, no longer seeing fear or pain or aggression in his eyes when you looked into them. Even if he wouldn't remember most of this, you hoped he would at least feel better in the morning than all the times he had to go through it alone.

Exhausted from all the playing around, you padded softly back to your robes, crawling inside yours and and gesturing over to him with your head. He followed you, coming down to all fours before laying beside you. You weren't sure when sleep came over you, but it was like the world's most comfortable blanket had been thrown over your shoulders, and your eyes drifted closed of their own volition. . .

“Merlin's beard, just what were you two doing last night?!”

You and Remus both jolted awake at the sound of James Potter's aggravatingly loud voice but quickly came to your senses. Remus' arms were wrapped around you, your back facing him. You were just barely covered by your robes with nothing underneath as a result of your transformation. As you scrambled to get decent your face heated even more as you saw Remus was currently without a shirt, his pants ripped considerably. You scrambled away from each other, trying to make yourselves decent.

Peter was howling with laughter, James looking smug as ever. Sirius was oddly quiet, but you were too wrapped up in the embarrassment to notice his behavior.

“What was that about being 'endlessly thoughtful'?” you grumbled to Remus.

“Right, I completely take back what I said,” he scoffed, “ 'insufferable jerk' is much more accurate.”

“Close your eyes, you perverted git!” you yelled at James, who was blatantly staring at you, “toss me my clothes at least, would you?”

James bit back a smirk as he grabbed your bag that was sitting in the corner of the room— clothes you had brought with the intention of changing into after returning to your human form when Lupin fell asleep. He tossed it over to you and you began to change under your robes. As his back was turned to you his mind began to wander. You'd always been attractive, sure, but since you'd always been his rival he hadn't really given you a second thought, especially when he'd been trying to get Lily's attention for ages. But just now, thinking about how downright adorable you looked when you'd yelled at him, something in him shifted. He shook it off quickly, turning to Lupin with a grin he'd managed to put on concernedly fast.

“You cheeky bastard,” he said to Remus, who was furiously changing into a new shirt, “you just wanted her alone, didn't you? Do you really need us to become animagi after all?”

“You're the worst, Potter,” the werewolf glared at him.

“Don't listen to him, Remus,” you grumbled, straightening out your tie as you slipped it on over your shirt, “he's an even bigger idiot than he looks.”

“Are you implying I look stupid?”

“Implying may not be a strong enough word.”

__________________________________________________________

It had taken months of brewing the potion and getting all the necessary preparations in order, but they were finally ready. Remus sat with you in the grass, wand at the ready to undo any untoward transfiguration that happened on accident. Peter, Sirius, and James stood across from you, standing at the edge of a stone ledge about five feet off the ground. You'd said that a leap of faith is what would best trigger their first transformation. They looked nervous, but they were prepared as they'd ever be. Over the last year you had grown considerably closer to the four boys you had miraculously come to know as friends.

“Remember, focus on your emotions,” you said, “you need to pick a strong one, let it fill your body and flow through you. If you block the magic off from any part of your body, it's not going to be pretty.”

“Right, but how do I—”

“James, I swear, I'm really rooting for you to be a mute animal.”

“But how do you choose-”

“Just do it already!”

“Oh, sod it,” James squeezed his eyes shut, not giving himself time to second guess before jumping off the ledge. For a moment he was certain he was about to land face first in the dirt, but then it happened— a moment where time seemed to freeze and his body felt completely weightless. He felt this sensation where his arms and legs vibrated with an intense, foreign energy. Images flashed through his mind in that brief moment in the air; Sirius manically laughing as they ran away from Filch, Remus snapping off a piece of chocolate to offer him after he'd lost Gryffindor a Quidditch match, and, unexpectedly, you. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest, and he grasped onto it, letting it flow through his body like you said. In an instant he felt torso shift, his shoulders narrow, his neck elongate; and when he landed on the ground he still landed face-first as he predicted, but in a completely different form.

He could see you and Lupin in front of him, mouths agape. He was about to say something when he found his vocal chords only allowed him a gruff whine. Shocked, he lifted his head, which felt much heavier than he'd last recalled, and as he looked down at himself he was taken aback to be met with a pair of hooves right beneath him. He staggered to his feet on wobbly legs, of which he now had four. As he tilted his head he could see the shadow of a pair of antlers twisting into brilliant shadows on the grass.

“Potter, you did it!” you exclaimed, “you actually did it!”

“Well how about that,” Remus chuckled, “a stag.”

“It fits him, I think,” you grinned, looking over at Sirius and Peter who looked determined and terrified respectively. “Well go on, it's your turn now!”

Sirius braced himself for the jump, but somehow he found no fear in his system. After seeing James shift in the air right before his eyes, he knew he could do it. He looked over at Peter who was nearly shaking.

“Come on, Peter,” he said, “we'll go together.”

“I-I don't know about this, Sirius,” Peter said, “I'm not ready, I don't think I can do this.”

“It's just a little jump,” Sirius said encouragingly, “you can do this.”

After a few nerve wracking deep breaths Peter gave him the smallest nod one could manage.

“We'll go on three,” Sirius said, “Ready? One—”

“AaHH!”

Sirius shoved Peter off the ledge, knowing he wouldn't jump on his own, before taking the plunge himself. Peter's screams became higher and higher pitched as he shrank at an alarming speed, almost an undetectable size by the time he hit the grass. A small brown rat scurried across the field towards you and Lupin.

The stag in front of you made a sound, dragging his hooves across the grass in what you could imagine as James' unadulterated laughter at his friend.

Sirius began to morph almost as soon as he left the ground, something you were surprised by. He landed on his hind legs, landing gracefully as his front two followed, and a shaggy black dog looked back at you with mischief in its eyes.

You couldn't help but go over and pet him. You laughed as he nudged you with his nose, a resistance that was quickly halted as soon as you started scratching him behind the ears.

“I have to say, I didn't think you would actually manage that on your first try,” you said, secretly prouder than they could have known, “but if anyone could have done it, it's you three stubborn goons.”

James huffed as he saw you continue to pet Sirius, using his antlers to prod the dog out of the way. Sirius barked, lunging at him playfully. It was quite a scene to see the two interact.

“Honestly, this is a pretty solid group,” you said, “you've got James who blends perfectly with the surrounding wildlife so he wouldn't be suspicions, Sirius who could probably do a fair bit of damage as a dog if he needed, and Peter who can fit through small spaces and snoop around the castle virtually undetected.”

“Quite an odd pack,” Remus chuckled.

“Definitely,” you agreed, “but a pack nonetheless.”

And that very week, Remus Lupin was able to spend his first night as a werewolf with his four friends by his side.

__________________________________________________________

“So, how did we choose which animals we turn into?” James had asked you the next day at breakfast, “I specifically tried for a dragon.”

“You don't get to choose,” you rolled your eyes, “You're a stag, that's the end of it. It's pretty much up to chance.”

“I'm sorry, you're telling me I could have turned into a fish and died right there on the ground?!”

“If only,” you sighed dreamily, earning you a playful shove from James. “Alright, it's not completely random, but you're definitely in the unknown the first time you turn,” you went on to explain, “and once you turn for the first time, that's it. That's your animal. A wizard takes on the animagus form of whatever animal most closely resembles their personality. So, a horny bastard for James, a loyal little puppy for Sirius—”

“A bitch for you,” Sirius quipped.

“Never heard that one before,” you scoffed, purposefully messing up his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” he shoved you off him, twisting each of his curls back into form.

“Well, look who's a high maintenance pup,” you chuckled.

Around the same time that year, you finally completed the map. It came together beautifully, each different way of folding the paper revealing a different level of the castle for easy navigation. You'd included the surrounding forests as well as the parts of Hogsmeade that applied for the secret passageways, all of which were marked with symbols and the unique names you'd all come up with. Every student and staff member at Hogwarts had a tiny scroll with their name that appeared in their location. Remus had added the nice detail of including footprints at the last second, so you could see which way they were facing and walking as well. It was fireproof, rip proof, and prone to insulting anyone else who tried to read it. It was the pinnacle of your magical (and slightly illegal) achievement.

“We should write our names on it,” James said, looking down proudly at the finished map, “it belongs to us, after all. We don't want anyone else taking the credit.”

“Yeah, fantastic way to get caught,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “what if Filch comes across it? That's like leaving your signature at a murder scene.”

“You should use code names, then,” you suggested, “I know you guys call Remus 'Moony' as a joke, but I kind of like it.”

The scarred boy blushed lightly at the compliment, a brow raised to his other three friends.

“Alright then, I guess you should all say hi to Rudolph over here,” Sirius said, jutting his thumb in James' direction. The bespectacled boy narrowed his eyes before shooting back.

“Right! And this is my good friend, Snuffles.”

Sirius lunged at him and James swatted him away in laughter.

“Come on, you two,” Remus said, “or we won't put anything down for you at all.”

“I've got an idea for Peter,” you piped in, “When my mom used to garden she said she didn't mind having rats there because their tails resembled worms, which were an old a sign of healthy soil, I know it's odd, but I think Wormtail sounds pretty cool.”

Peter seemed to perk up at your acknowledgment and nodded. It suited him somehow.

“Should we pick animal features too, then?” James mused, “I guess Antlers doesn't really sound that cool. What's another word? Horns? Give me some analogies, guys. What else do they look like?”

“Yours honestly kind of look like a couple of bent forks,” you snickered.

“Prongs?” Sirius snorted, the laughter that followed nearly splitting his sides.

“Oh, go on, what have you got then?” James scoffed.

“I was thinking Padfoot,” Sirius said, “like a dog's paw prints.”

“You know, for someone who was just making fun of code names a second ago you sure have given a lot of thought to yours,” you teased.

“Shove it,” he smirked, “What about you? Can't very well have a second Moony.”

You stared at him in momentary disbelief.

“Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Sirius chuckled.

“We couldn't have done any of this without you,” Remus reminded you with a smile.

“I think you've more than earned an honorary title as one of us,” James said.

“That is, if you want to,” Peter said timidly.

You looked at the four of them, genuinely touched.

“I. . . I don't know what to say,” you smiled.

“You could say 'yes',” James piped up.

“Alright, you loons,” you laughed, “if you leave Severus alone for good, then yes.”

“Hey, I think we've been pretty good about that lately,” James pouted.

“Yes you have,” you admitted, “It's the only reason I bothered to give you the time of day, but this time it's a promise.”

James rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was undeniable. He'd never admit it out loud, but being friends with you was more fun than messing with Snape ever was.

“Alright, fine. (Y/n) (L/n), I solemnly swear that I will leave tormenting our dear old friend Snivelus behind us forever,” he said dramatically, putting a hand up at his pledge.

“Oh, bother,” you laughed, “the only thing you'll 'solemnly swear' to is that you're up to no good.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Then that's settled,” Remus smiled, “you'll need a code name too.”

“Let's see,” Sirius hummed in thought, “What other defining features do wolves have besides. . . well, their. . . fangs?”

“They're canines, you numbnut,” you huffed.

“Close enough, I'm writing Fangs.”

“Oi, I didn't agree to that!”

“Too bad, I'm already writing it~”

“Okay, well if that's the stupid name I'm getting saddled with them I'm going to write it myself,” you said stubbornly. You actually didn't mind the name at all.

“Well that's it, then,” James said, “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs. We could join the bloody circus.”

“All we need is a group name,” you said, half joking.

“We've already got one,” James said proudly.

“Oh? Let's hear it, then.”

“The Marauders.”

“. . .”

You kept your face straight for exactly three seconds before you burst out laughing. The four boys flushed with embarrassment.

“The Marauders?” you chortled, “what are you, pirates?”

“It's what McGonnagall called us the first time we got ourselves into proper trouble,” James defended himself, his cheeks reddening, “You rowdy mob of marauders, she'd said.”

“Huh,” you chuckled, coming down from your laughing fit, “Well, then I suppose that would make this The Marauders Map. I'll admit, it actually kinda has a ring to it.”

And despite your group's joking quips and bickering, they couldn't agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait,” Harry said, eyes wide at your story, “So, my dad was an animagus too?”

“Sure was,” you smiled warmly.

“This whole time I thought 'Prongs' was just because his patronus was a stag.”

“Your animagus form is usually the same animal as your patronus,” you explained, “In some very rare cases they can be different, but they work in the same emotionally driven vein of magical ability, so it would make sense that they'd be linked. Your father was extraordinary at both, because as much as he would deny it, he felt everything very deeply.”

Your eyes drifted to the wall opposite you in the living room, and a small but sad smile graced your features.

“Love is often the most powerful emotion a witch or wizard can draw from,” you said softly, “but you already know that.”

Harry followed your gaze over his shoulder. There, posted on the wall among a collage of photographs from the Order was a picture of his mother and father. It was one he'd seen a hundred times, and one he had his own copy of: them in each others' arms in a London park, autumn leaves swirling around them as they danced without any music. Even from this distance he could see the emotion in their eyes as they looked at one another— like they were the only two people in the world.

“Yeah,” Harry said, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “I do.”

Read chapter 7 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time. 

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night. 

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.” 

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him. 

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Language.” 

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.” 

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series. 

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it. 

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words. 

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked. 

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it. 

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.” 

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth. 

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable. 

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.” 

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room. 

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse. 

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm. 

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely. 

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit. 

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide. 

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred. 

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm. 

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip. 

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul. 

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure. 

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack. 

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled. 

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock. 

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place. 

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic. 

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.” 

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary. 

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed. 

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.” 

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.” 

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud. 

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them. 

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed. 

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.” 

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part three]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

“No sex?”

“Y/n!” Sam hissed through his teeth. “You think you could lower your fucking voice a little?” His tone was even, but his eyes betrayed the thinly veiled panic you were all too familiar with. 

Pushing your best friend’s buttons was something you usually enjoyed, but in that moment you were feeling a similar sense of panic. 

“Sorry, how was I supposed to react to you telling me I can’t sleep with anyone this summer?” you snapped in a whisper. 

“How were you expecting to pull that off without making it look like you were cheating on me?” he countered. 

“I- I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about it...”

Sam had been typing the list of “rules” for the summer in the notes app of his phone for the better half of an hour as you brainstormed together, and you had been on board with everything that it consisted of so far:

No gross pet names (babe, baby, and darling are acceptable)

No kissing with tongue

No telling embarrassing stories!! (yes that includes that one time i got a condom stuck in my nose and we had to go to the emergency room- that’s literally only funny to you)

4. Share a bed together for the whole trip

ACT LIKE WE’RE IN LOVE (@ y/n)

Spend at least an hour with family per day

Take “coupley” pictures together when my parents as- bc they WILL ask

Wear the matching shirts my mother made 

Buy y/n all the alcohol she wants

It was a pretty decent list, all things considered, until he got to rule number ten. 

“I mean it’s not like it’s going to be easy for me either,” Sam reasoned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you for your service or something? Applaud you for keeping it in your pants for two whole months?”

“You’re literally complaining about the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m only doing it to save your ass,” you huffed.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, sighing. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

You gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“You don’t want to be. You’ve mentioned that several times.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.”

Sam smiled at that. “Thanks, I love you too.”

“Alright that’s enough sincerity between us for a lifetime,” you said and chuckled uneasily. “We can go back to being assholes to each other now.”

“Good, that took a lot out of me.”

You glared at him, but refrained from making a comment. “What’s next on the list then, lover boy?”

“Already breaking the first rule-”

“Fine, what’s next on the list, fuckface?” you asked with a smirk. 

Sam clenched his jaw and scrolled on his phone. “Okay, number eleven, no flirting with my brothers.”

“Do you really need to write that one down?” You watched as he typed it out without acknowledging you. “Like isn’t that kind of implied? You know I don’t see Harry like that.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” he muttered. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, he moved on to the next rule and left you sitting alone in your confusion. 

The majority of the rest of the flight was spent bickering with Sam over the list, undoubtedly annoying the hell out of everyone seated around you. The other passengers finally got some reprieve from the sound of your hushed voices when Sam put his earbuds in to listen to music. You knew he was only doing it to tune you out because whenever he was really listening to something he always shared one of his earbuds with you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. If he was going to be like that then... god, this was going to be a long summer.

You shifted in your seat so that you could comfortably rest your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. Even though he was frustrated with you, you knew he wouldn’t push you away. It was just like that with you guys. He’d get over it by the time you landed. 

When you opened your eyes again, Sam had fallen asleep too. He was slumped against you with his head resting on top of yours like something out of a movie. It struck you as ironic. To passers by you already looked like a couple. Game on. 

-

Sam led the way through the busy airport terminal to baggage claim, apparently trusting you were right on his heels. But it was almost like he was trying to lose you with the way he was weaving through the crowd like a wanted fugitive. You could barely keep up. Some fake boyfriend he was. 

You’d never seen your best friend like this before. Usually he was so calm and collected, the one who was always talking you off the ledge, but you could tell he was the one climbing stairs right now. 

“Fuck, there’s no way this’ll work.” 

It had been another one of those late nights in the library when Sam had thrown the stack of index cards onto the table in surrender and buried his face in his hands. You were both teetering on the edge of a caffeine crash. The words on the pages had started to blur together in a way that was almost illegible and neither of you could keep the important dates of your relationship straight. 

“Yes it will,” you insisted as you gathered up the cards and handed them back to him. “We’re just burnt out. That’s why we keep getting things wrong.” He knit his eyebrows together in a way that told you he didn’t believe you, but didn’t say anything in return. You sighed and took a sip of your coffee, giving him a measured look over the lenses of your glasses. “It’s four am., Sam. We just need some sleep and then we’ll come back fresh tomorrow, you’ll see.”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and nodded reluctantly. “Thanks for doing this with me... it’s, uh, really important to me.”

“I know.” 

But you didn’t know why. Sam didn’t even study this hard for midterms, but here he was night after night with you mapping out every single detail of your fake relationship. A small part of you wondered if there was something more, something that he was keeping from you, but you pushed the thought down. You told each other everything...

As you watched him wait for your suitcases at the carousel, arms crossed, left foot tapping the tile impatiently, it dawned on you just how nervous he was. You wished there was something you could say to ease his mind, but the right words were escaping you. To be fair, you weren’t having any luck shaking your jitters either. You’d never been in a relationship long enough to meet your significant other’s parents. Somehow the fact that you weren’t even dating made it even more daunting. You desperately needed the Hollands to like you- for both you and Sam’s sakes. 

“This one’s yours, right?” Sam asked and pointed to one of the bags he’d rolled over.

“Yeah, thanks for grabbing it.”

“Don’t mention it, babe.” You fought the urge to make a face- “you’re making a face.”

“Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Still adjusting to hearing that.”

“Well adjust quicker because my brother will be here to pick us up any minute.”

“Wait, what?”

“How else did you think we were going to get home?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

You followed Sam outside through the automatic doors to the car loop to wait for Harry. It was warm out, but there was a light breeze that lifted some of the heat from the pavement. The sun had set mere minutes ago, and dusk was lazily settling over the horizon. You were too close to the city to see any stars, but the moon glowed dimly behind the clouds, like a performer waiting in the wings. 

Sam scrolled through Spotify as you both sat there, carefully balanced on your suitcases, and offered you one of his AirPods. You took it wordlessly and put it in your ear. The gesture was comforting, almost intimate, a reminder that nothing had changed between you. At least not yet. 

He was playing something you hadn’t heard before, a classical piece. It sounded old and European which didn’t narrow it down at all. A glance at the title scrolling across his screen suggested that it was French, but he put his phone in his pocket and stood up before you could fully read it. 

Before you could ask what was happening a black Audi pulled up to the curb, parked, and a boy who was... not Harry stepped out of it. It was then that you realized Sam had never specified which brother was picking you up. 

You knew Sam had an older brother, but he didn’t talk about him much. You had just assumed they weren’t close, but as you watched them hug and laugh together you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“Y/n, this is Tom,” Sam said as he introduced you to his brother. “Tom, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You held out your hand and he shook it tentatively.

“Likewise,” he replied, sounding unconvinced. “Can I help you guys with your bags?”

“Um, sure. That’d be great.”

You handed over your suitcase and backpack to him and joined Sam back over on the sidewalk while Tom lifted the luggage into the trunk with surprising ease.

Tom was about Sam’s height, slender like Sam too, but far more athletically built. Even through his t-shirt you could see the distinct outline of muscles you hadn’t even known existed in the human anatomy- it was ridiculous. His smile was the same as Sam’s too, but what really gave him away as a Holland were the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap. They were impossible to miss. 

“Do you want to sit in the front, love?” Sam asked, pulling you back into the moment.

“No thanks, you catch up with your brother. I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. Tom didn’t seem too thrilled to meet you in the first place so sitting in the back seemed like the safer way to play it. Sam just shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat while you slid into the middle seat in the back. 

“Did you tell mum we’re running a few minutes late?” Sam asked Tom once he’d merged onto the road. 

“Yeah, she said she expects it from Heathrow anyway since they’re always so busy.”

“It was fucking packed, mate.”

“I know. Traffic was awful getting here. Everyone’s going on holiday.” Tom turned to glance at you, then back at his brother. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner should be ready when we get there.”

“When we get where?” you piped up in confusion, wondering who would’ve cooked at the boys’ flat.

“Mum’s and dad’s.”

You grabbed Sam by the shoulder. “Wait, we’re going straight to your parents’ house? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean? Why does it matter?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“Like what?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m wearing sweatpants!”

“And you look fine!” he argued. “Tom, tell her she looks fine.”

“Uh, you look fine.”

Why were men so fucking dense? You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. Your suitcase was just out of reach in the trunk so you hoisted yourself up over the seatback and grabbed one of the straps on the bag to pull it closer to you.  

With your limited access it was hard to find what you were looking for, but you managed to randomly pull out a nice pair of jeans and a floral print blouse you’d thrifted last semester to change into. 

Before either of the boys up front could register what was happening you pulled your t-shirt off over your head and started shimmying out of your sweats. 

“What the fuck are you doing, y/n?” Sam hissed as the car swerved. 

To be fair, you were just straight up taking your pants off in his brother’s car, but in your defense he’d really left you no choice. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You snapped and looked back up at him defiantly, catching Tom’s eye in the rearview mirror as you did. 

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road, Tom.” Sam grumbled, shooting daggers back at you.

You blew him a kiss in return followed by the middle finger as you buttoned your jeans with your other hand. 

Tom laughed and turned to his brother. “I like her.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[flying-nightwing]

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold. 

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment. 

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it. 

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do. 

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known. 

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic" 

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to. 

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady” 

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you. 

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore. 

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals. 

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple. 

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range. 

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway” 

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out. 

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom. 

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you. 

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out. 

“So Talia it is” He smirked. 

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate. 

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat” 

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face. 

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck. 

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips. 

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you. 

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us” 

[huihuiheart]

D&D Series Pt 4 - For the Crown

Summary: Heading into the haunted forest might not have been the wisest of choices for the escaping trio. Especially, when things don’t go according to plan and hard choices have to be made, the prince’s secrets are revealed, and a mischievous ‘little’ figure appears.

Pairing: F! Reader x Dark Prince! Hyunjin

Warnings: Injury, blood, falling off horses, kidnapping (kind of), use of magical abilities, unprotected sex, dom/sub themes, brat taming, spanking, biting, teasing, marking, bondage, degradation, overstimulation, hair pulling (giving and receiving), fingering, oral, heartbreak (kinda), betrayal.

Note: Series will be on a semi-hiatus until I am caught up with the special stuff you’ll see dropping on the 28th! 

Word Count: 6,518

Previous Part ______ Next Part

You had never been one to truly fear something that was haunted, but seeing how everything else in this world had made you a little uneasy about racing into the haunted forest like this. Mostly due to the fact that you were unsure what to expect, fearing the unknown more than anything else in this strange world. You had no time to contemplate it, though, as you followed behind Chan and Felix, needing to get away before Hyunjin and his men could catch up to you. Not knowing what might happen if you were caught, again, if he was as cruel as you had heard that he was, who knew what kind of future you would have if you were not able to get away. Tree branches lashing out in an attempt to snag you as you raced in, letting the boys lead the way as you had no idea where you were going or what to do if you came face to face with a threat in the forest. The deeper in you got, though, the harder it became to keep up. The other two were easily far more experienced riders than you. They could effortlessly navigate through, while you struggled to follow, it only became worse as a heavy fog rolled in. Chan and Felix, occasionally calling out to you to ensure you were following behind them, though while they could still make out your outline, they did not grow too concerned, unlike your current doubts.

__

Hyunjin had no hesitations about following your group into the forest. His men, on the other hand, came to a swift halt at the edge of the forest, causing Hyunjin to turn to look over the anxious men who were eyeing the forest as if it would reach out and swallow them whole at any second.

“Well? What are you all waiting for?” Hyunjin raises a brow, eyes burning through each and every man that was hesitating before him as his horse trotted along the edge of the forest.

“H-Highness, all due respect, but are we actually going to go into the haunted forest? Y-You much have heard the very same stories as we have about the things that happen to anyone that enters.” One of his men stuttered out, uncertain what he feared more, the forest or the prince’s wrath.

“I have, and that’s all they are....stories...myths. I do not fear anything that this forest holds, I have been through and back more times than anyone else and have yet to face any true danger, but if I am the only one. Then I guess I will just have to retrieve the princess myself.” Hyunjin huffs before guiding his horse to turn back towards the forest and racing off in the direction that you three had gone in only moments ago. Seeing shadows in the distance, fog blurring the details of their forms, but they were moving nonetheless, and that was all he needed to know to determine that he had found those whom he was tracking.

The men you followed were sure you knew what you were doing, after years of training that the princess must have had in riding. Yet you, you were no princess... you had appeared in this world with no warning and such a lack of experience in this area that you truly struggled at this moment. Hope was not yet lost though, as long as they remained in sight, you would likely find your way out of this forest alive. Your heart starts to beat in time with the pounding of hooves, though not those of your horse, the ones slowly gaining on you from behind, a single, distinct set. Something you attempted to speed up and away from, wanting the safety of being closer to the men you were traveling with. It seemed futile, though, as the same entrancing blue speck of light from the forest dances before your horse now, starting him into bucking you off with a startled yelp before racing off in the opposite direction and directly towards the figure chasing you. Chan and Felix’s shadows disappearing within a matter of seconds into the thickening fog before you, only allowing you to hear their distant calls to you. Something you would have returned if your chest wasn’t currently radiating pain after the wind got knocked out of you during the fall. A thick liquid, feeling running down your forehead from your hairline, but you hurt too much to bring your hand up to see what it was. Barely able to lift your eyes enough to see a figure approaching as the fog clears around him, slowing down at the sight of you, before stopping. Your eyes feel heavy as you try to remain conscious, knowing it could be a danger that those approaching feet hold, it seems confirmed as the figure crouches over you and finally shows you their face...Hyunjin...

“You took a nasty fall princess, just go to sleep. I’ll get you someplace safe and fix you up.” Hyunjin, gently stroked over your hair, his words seemingly casting a spell on you, finally making you give in to the looming darkness. Hyunjin lifting you carefully onto his horse before heading towards a cabin that he already knew, was hidden among these very woods.

Chan and Felix coming to a halt and panicking as they no longer heard or saw you following. Turning back to look for any sign of you, only finding some blood and then further back your horse alone. Panic setting in as they were unsure what to do. 

“Felix head to the kingdom and give them this map, I’m going after Y/N!” Chan insisted, holding the valuable item out to him, causing Felix’s eyes to widen and him to scoff.

“You can’t be serious, they would never let me anywhere near the castle. No one there knows me! You have to take it! I swear to you on my life, I’ll find her and get her back safely.” Felix shakes his head, refusing to take it and sticking Chan in a predicament. Could he trust Felix to find and save you? At the same time, Felix had a point though there was no way they would let Felix in without someone familiar with him. Making the situation only further complicated as he tried to think of what would be best.

___

The first thing you were able to do was groan about the throbbing pain radiating in your head as you regained consciousness. Feeling something cool and damp gently prodding at where the thick liquid had previously originated and eased the pain some. Hearing Hyunjin clicks his tongue disapprovingly as your stirring starts to cause too much movement.

“Hold still, or you’ll make your injuries worse. I’m trying to help, but I can’t do that if you don’t cooperate.” Hyunjin’s words were firm and would almost come off as harsh if there wasn’t a certain fondness in them. Your eyes slowly squinting and blinking as they tried to open again despite the heaviness still present until you could see Hyunjin sat beside you. His form leaned over yours, gently dabbing the blood off your head injury and other scratches he could find.

“Where are we?” Your eyes fluttered around the room, it seeming much smaller than what could be expected at the castle, much quieter as well. Finding it odd that Hyunjin seemed so at home in such an abandoned-looking place such as this, moving between you and the medical supplies a few feet away as if it were second nature.

“We are still in the woods, in a small cabin. You are not really in any condition to travel right now, so I brought you here to care for you. Once I finish this, I’ll make us something to eat so you can rest and recover. However, you may not have that much energy for a few days.” Hyunjin explains before gently pressing over your sides and abdomen, trying to feel for any further injuries, “Does it hurt anywhere when I do this?” 

You give a soft shake of your head, blushing a little at his caring nature, "It doesn't my back is a little sore, but I think that was because of how hard I landed on it. Mostly just that and my head, though.”

Hyunjin nods, “Well your head is already bandaged up, though it might bleed through, so I’ll likely have to change it a few times. As for your back, I’d like to check that and your ribs further, but I promise to provide you with decency. I can give you a shirt, something I can lift enough to see while keeping the rest covered. If you’re feeling up to getting it on, that is. I could unlace you and help you sit up. If you don’t feel up to it, I can try to think of something else.” 

“I think I can change myself just fine if I have that bit of help.” You agree to allow him to help you roll over so his fingers can gently unlace and loosen your corset top before turning you back around to help you sit up. Once it was loose enough, he wasn’t worried about it doing further damage. Hyunjin helping you to sit with pillows propped behind you. Going over to a drawer and pulling out some pants and a loose shirt to sit beside you on the bed. Your confusion must have been evident on your face because he chuckles when he looks at you again.

“You have questions, don’t you princess?” Hyunjin inquires, humming as you nod. He heads towards the door to give you privacy as he answers you, “When we’ve finished this and eaten, I’ll answer all your questions...Call me when you’re decent again. I’ll be right outside, okay?”

You nod, letting him go while doing your best to change out of the trapping dress you’d been stuck in for so long. It is a relief to have some clothes that allowed you to move more freely. Even if not for the best reason or if it was the easiest with your current injuries. 

“You can come back in Hyunjin.” You eventually call, slowly trying to ease yourself back onto the bed again, something Hyunjin rushes over to assist you with doing.

“I can look yes?” Hyunjin asks, looking to you for confirmation once again, waiting for your nod before continuing. His fingers, slowly pushing your shirt up to expose your abdomen, only touching your skin when he has to, so he would not make you uncomfortable. Careful with his touch as well, pressing gently on the bruises that are exposed, to make sure that’s all they are before gently pulling your shirt back down, to help you roll over and do the same with your back. After he has checked you over, he helps you lay on your back again, tucking you in to stay warm.

“Everything looks alright, only surface stuff other than your head. I think you’ll be alright, though, if you simply rest. I’ll go make you something to eat, but if you need anything, just call me.” Hyunjin brushes your hair out of your face in one last fleeting touch before he’s gone. 

You know you should be trying to rest, being left alone with your thoughts though you find yourself unable to. So many questions coming to mind and making your thoughts race with possible answers. Wondering why others would paint such a horrid picture of Hyunjin when here he was acting like this. More than that, though, why did Hyunjin seem so at home here? Someplace so normal looking, unlike where royalty typically stayed, and in the middle of not just any forest, but a haunted one. Deciding to test your luck, you move to get out of bed. Unable to take it any longer, needing to start getting answers before you completely lose your mind. 

“If you’re going to try and sneak out, you should just be aware that my horse doesn’t take kindly to strangers...and I don’t think you want to take another fall like you just had,” Hyunjin speaks calmly, without turning to you though. Only adding to your confusion as you wonder how he picked up on your nearly silent movements.

“I’m not trying to leave........not yet anyways. I want answers first because I’m quite thoroughly confused right now...though I can’t make promises in regards to later.” You respond as you move closer. Hyunjin turns towards you with a slightly scolding look as he moves over to gently pull out a chair for you. 

“I promised you answers. You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. You could make yourself worse.” Hyunjin tsks softly, his attitude whinier and brat-like though. Him showing you what you more so expected from the spoiled, dark prince.

“Well, I couldn’t rest without answers, so it seems what would be best for both of us would be if you just let me ask now.” You shrug, earning a soft sigh from Hyunjin, who mumbles some excuse about needing to cook, “I won’t interfere with that. Just let me ask, and you can take all the time you need to answer. It’ll put me at ease, though.”

Hyunjin glances over his shoulder at you for a moment, debating with himself before he turns to face you again. Snapping his fingers, the spoon he had been stirring the food with moves on its own now as he steps over. Leaning on the counter across from you and motioning for you to go ahead with your questions. 

“Why do you seem so familiar with this place? It doesn’t seem like the kind of place a prince would consider home...”You’re brows furrow as Hyunjin chuckles quietly, licking his lips.

“Well, as you might have noticed, princess. There are things I can do that humans can’t. Magic I hold, that your kind doesn’t. Just because I have it, though, doesn’t mean that I automatically know how to use it, though. I had to learn. I still have to learn and practice, I never did well in the group, however. I was too volatile.  So every year, I would be sent away to find a place alone to practice. It didn’t matter how long I was gone for as long as I didn’t come back before learning something. I stumbled across this place one year and decided after that to keep coming back here every time as I learned how to control my magic, I was able to make it a little homier.” Hyunjin explains, being what you considered oddly open about his past. Though you appreciated the fact that he was at least seeming genuine with you, despite not being sure what exactly to expect from him, “I’m guessing that’s not all you’re curious about?”

"No, I'm wondering why you're caring for me like this? The wedding isn't my choice after all, so why didn't you just drag me back? Why do you care?" Your question comes out soft-spoken yet bleeding with genuine curiosity, and Hyunjin hums.

"My intent was never to harm you. In fact, under other circumstances, I wouldn't be doing this to you either. I would have tried to get your attention in another way, princess. However, I'm sure you know we can not always do what we want in our positions. For the sake of my people, I will do what I must. I'm sorry if that, in turn, brings you more pain than it already has. I have no desire to be cruel, though." Hyunjin insists, gently reaching out to brush his thumb over your cheek before getting up to physically return to the cooking, "Here, it's done, you should eat before we talk anymore. It'll give you time to process what you've learned so you won't be overwhelmed."

You nod, appreciating the logic at least of what he says, knowing you would have more time while you recovered to question him about other things. Your body was weak from all that your body had faced throughout the day. Humming at the taste of the food, Hyunjin had made, it was already energizing you some and making you feel much better.

"We'll likely stay here at least two days to allow enough time to be sure that your head especially is okay before we start to travel." Hyunjin informs after you finished, moving to help you stand up again, leading you back towards the bedroom, "I'll let you take the bedroom while I'm down here."

"Let me guess if I need anything just call you?" You tease him lightly as you accept his help under the covers again. Having to hold back your giggles as you see his skin flush a light pink.

"Well as I said, I mean you no harm....and in other circumstances, I would have preferred to try and win over your heart instead of this," Hyunjin speaks the quietest he has all day, feeling shy at the admission. He's not impossibly shy, however, as he leans down to kiss your forehead as he tucks you in, "I hope to see you in the morning Y/N."

The way he says your name instead of calling you by a title tugs at your heart. Hearing the yearning in his voice, his feelings seeming genuine. The way Hyunjin was so caring and yet so considerate of your feelings thinking that his own was entirely one-sided, making your heart hurt for him. You're too tired tonight to try and bring him comfort, already drifting off into your world of exhaustion, not able to stay up in an attempt to sneak out even if you felt you needed to. After questioning Hyunjin some, you didn't see the need to try and escape from him. Not understanding the dangers that the others saw in him. His heart, seeming pure, even if the way he went about things wasn't always so innocent. His concern, showing through again the next morning.  When you woke to him bringing you breakfast in bed, helping you to sit up. You watched curiously as he silently left you to eat alone, you taking the privacy to clean yourself up a little as well. Hyunjin is back in the room when you step out of the bathroom again, looking up at you with wide eyes looking over you like he’s checking if you’re okay. 

“I’m fine Hyunjin, nothing to worry about.” You try to reassure him with a small smile, him returning it with a tender smile of his own. He offers you his hand, guiding you to sit on the bed as he stands to bring the medical supplies over beside you.

“I’m going to clean up your head again and just make sure it’s okay,” Hyunjin explains as he reaches out to delicately undo the bandaging he’d put on the night before, not wanting to hurt you or anything. He tries to make quick work of cleaning and rebandaging it. The bandage was already smaller than the day before. His hands shake slightly, though, feeling an odd type of nervous knowing your gaze was on his face the whole time.

“Hyunjin? Do you love me?” You finally find yourself asking the question that’s haunted you since he started to care for you. Hyunjin’s skin flushing brightly at the question blinking at you in shock at the bluntness.

“S-Something like that yes, t-though I know it’s not what you want, princess.” His words are joined with that longing stare once again. His hand, reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear. The sad smile on his face was replaced with surprise as you grab his hand softly in yours before his touch could fade entirely.

“Who says?” You inquire softly, looking into his eyes without hesitation and using your grip to gently tug him closer until you can press your lips to his. Your arms, slipping around his neck to prevent him from running away from the kiss and you.

Hyunjin is stunned for a moment, entirely frozen as he processes what is happening before he returns your kiss. Soon, taking over as he puts more force into the kiss, letting his longing take over, controlling his actions. He nibbles on your lower lip slightly when he finally pulls away, looking at you with darkened eyes as his arms slip around to cradle you and gently lay you back, mindful of your injuries.

“And you were still going to leave me anyway?” He growls lightly, not letting you answer before his mouth is on yours again. His actions fueled by just a hint of anger, “Knew you were a spoiled, fucking brat, princess.”

You feel the shift in the air, dominance shifting to Hyunjin, who looks down at you with a darkened gaze. A smirk adorning his face as you squirm slightly beneath him, flustering as heat rises to your cheeks. His actions are not what you would have expected out of him after the way he had been acting the last 24 hours, but you weren't going to complain about them either.

“In a way, you are lucky you’re hurt doll, means I’ll go easy on you tonight. Of course, you’ll still be punished, considering you made me think you didn’t care about me, and you ran away.” Hyunjin tsks as his tone and touch teases you, running the faintest trail over your sides, “What will I do with you, pretty girl?” 

“You talk like you aren’t a spoiled brat yourself.” You remark back, grinning up at him in response. Your inner brat proud of the fact that you showed no hesitance in your response, despite his heated stare, “Maybe I should be the one punishing you right now, little prince~”

You watch Hyunjin visibly bristle at your condescending tone, hand smacking your clothed thigh just enough to give a slight sting, before he’s gripping them tightly, “That’s cute, you thinking that pretty, little mouth of yours can get away with saying whatever. We both know that even if I gave you control, though, you would have no idea what to do with it, princess.” 

Hyunjin’s fingers dance over your inner thighs before gripping at the hem of the shirt you were wearing. He pushed it up slowly, much like he had when looking over your injuries, though this time, his fingers brushed delicately over your skin as he did. Pulling it off entirely and letting you do the same with his before picking up on your smug expression again and raising a brow.

“You say that like you’re in control right now.” You mock him as his gentle nature shows through again, baiting him into doing worse if he dared, “Please, little prince, we both know you are too soft to actually do anything to me.”

Hyunjin hums, licking his lips as he eyes your form, “Maybe, you are right, princess.” He leans down to kiss over the expanse of your neck, gently until reaching your collarbone, where he bites down. Sucking and kissing over to leave a blooming mark and make you moan, squirming beneath him, “ But then again...maybe you’re wrong.”

You mew, feeling heat pool in your gut, you know Hyunjin would easily pick up on that if he looks at your panties. He is in no rush currently, though, leaving a trail of marks leading towards your cleavage, letting your arousal build over time. Willing to take as much time as it takes to see you finally snap, wanting you to fold and beg for him. You expect him to take your bra off next with how he teases marks along the hem of it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he chooses to move lower, creating marks leading down to the hem of the pants you’re wearing. His fingers, working to undo the tie on them, while his mouth works to distract you. Only, letting register what he had done when he was already tugging them down your legs, spreading them and exposing your soiled panties, only making him lick his lips in anticipation. He would have to wait for that still, as your resolve stayed strong yet. Something Hyunjin was not having any part of as he kissed your thigh, trailing marks lower, until he left one last fleeting kiss to your ankle before working his way up the other leg, never speeding up his actions. He knew it was a waiting game, a matter of whose patience would give out, and he was determined to win. After all, he had been a patient man thus far, holding back the whole time his feelings grew he could wait a little longer if it meant getting what he wanted. You, on the other hand, weren’t prepared to endure this level of teasing, ignorant to the possibility of the events currently unfolding before today. 

Hyunjin practically beamed against your inner thigh, locking eyes with you when he heard your soft restless huff, “You seem eager, princess. You know you could get what you want. Well, if you start acting like a good girl.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare at his mockery, still not learning your lesson. Still finding his tactics too soft to tame your brat, she was masochist after all. “Why don’t you fucking make me then? If you even can.” 

Hyunjin seems surprisingly calm at your remark this time, climbing over your form and slipping a hand around to unclasp your bra as soon as it’s off, an invisible force pulls your hands up towards the bed frame, securing them there. “You talk a lot of crap for someone whose panties have been soaked this whole time, princess. Your mouth might say one thing, but your body says another.”

"Fuck you, Hyunjin." You hiss, glare sharpening, and yet it still doesn't faze Hyunjin in the least. If anything, it makes him chuckle, finding it cute that you think you are going to be able to intimidate him.

"Oh, you could, sweetheart, if you would only cooperate." Hyunjin flicks his tongue over your nipple, loving how you gasp and wiggle again. What doesn't make him so pleased is when you start trying to squirm away so that he would not have so much control over you, wanting to hold out longer. Hyunjin, nipping at your bud with a warning growl of your name, making you shudder at the promise the rasp of it held. Your body, submitting on its own and letting the man tease your breasts, taking his time as he alternates between them much as he had done with the rest of your body.

"All you are is a tease, Hyunjin. A tease playing like he's a firm hand-" Your quip gets cut off by his hand slapping down against your clothed pussy without any warning.

"You think I'm playing princess? No. I simply know your game. You enjoy being punished. You like the pain...which is why you won't get that. Not unless you beg for it just like anything else you want from me, even if I have to tease you all night for that to happen." Hyunjin shrugs before moving between your legs to lick over the wet patch, moaning against your panties at the taste. Just a hint of the feeling passing through and letting your mind race with all the possibilities of what could happen if you just gave in already, the fact that he wouldn't even punish you the way you wanted without a beg driving you mad.

"Fine, fine, you win Hyunjin. Just stop with all the goddamn teasing already." You whimper, hips lifting slightly, and Hyunjin dares to laugh at your desperation. Hooking his fingers on your panties to drag them down and flick his tongue over your clit before circling it relentlessly.

"I don't know, princess. It didn't seem to me like you meant that. Why don't you try again? And this time, try to be a tad more convincing little girl." Hyunjin nips at your most sensitive parts, making you mewl again at finally another twinge of painful pleasure.

"I'm begging, aren't I Hyunjin? This is what you wanted, isn't it? For me to beg for you? Well, now that I am. So can't you just fucking ruin me?" You almost wish you could smack him as he pulls away, but the next second you are sighing in relief as you're flipped onto your knees, ass on display for him. Hyunjin's hands move to knead the flesh, almost aggressively despite not even being the part intending to bring you pain.

"Oh, I'll ruin so much princess, you won't be the only thing, though. No. I intend to fuck you so well that even if you go to another man, you'll think about me and how good I was instead. I intend to fuck you so well that you crave me the same way I've craved having you like this for so long now." Hyunjin emphasizes his words with the first smack to your backside, "Though if that doesn't happen tonight, then I guess I'll just have to try again and again until it does."

Your body is practically buzzing with anticipation at this point after such a long build-up, unable to do anything but moan as Hyunjin finally gives in, delivering blow after delicious blow to your ass. Increasing the strength behind them as he sees you can take more and loving how color blooms across your skin, the flesh bruising in beautiful marks that you'll be sure to feel for days after. His touch, leaving your ass to collect the wetness that’s seeping down the plush of your thighs, before lightly patting your pussy and watching how you clench around nothing with a dark chuckle and another hard spank.

“What’s this? Are you going to cum around nothing? After acting like I couldn’t even do anything? Tsk, are you really that pathetic princess?” Hyunjin acts disappointed, but the way his cock throbs in his pants tells an entirely different story, “Go on then, tell me how unaffected you are with that bratty little mouth while your body tells me the truth. While this little pussy tells me how slutty you are, begging me to fuck you until you can’t say anything other than my name.” 

Hyunjin gives you that final push you need to go over the edge by slapping your pussy, watching how it pulses for a moment before two fingers find your clit, and ride you through your high. His skilled fingers, not letting up even after your orgasm has run its course. Your attempts to squirm away mean nothing as more invisible ties lock around your form, holding you in place to take all that Hyunjin is giving you. Hyunjin’s curls two fingers into you, searching for the spot that would have you quaking beneath him, wanting to make you fall apart over and over because of what he can do to you. His plump lips, leaning down to press against your spine, not even willing to leave that part of you unmarked, his fingers drilling into you relentless against your most sensitive spots as soon as he found them. His hand, weaving into your hair to pull your face up, out of the mattress, freeing your sounds.

“Don’t you try to hide from me, princess. You wanted to run that smart mouth of yours, so now you’re going to show just how wrong you were with every perfect fucking sound you make, whether it be from your lips or your cunt.” Hyunjin’s own impatience showed in the form of his bulge, pressed against your prettied ass, grinding in time with the thrusts of his fingers, egging you on, “Do you think you will have earned this cock once you’ve cum on my fingers, princess? Be honest?”

“I-I’ve earned it whenever you say I have, b-but I want it so bad...p-please Hyunjin.” Your words show how much you have really slipped into a submissive role for him. Hyunjin’s ego growing at your words, loving every second of them.

“You sound so pretty whining my name like that little girl.” Hyunjin slips in soft praise as a result of your obedience, “Go on then princess, earn it. Fucking cum for me again, make a mess of my fingers just like you would my dick.”

His words only further tightening the knot in your stomach until it snaps, making you tremble beneath him with each scorching wave of pleasure. It, numbing you to the point where all you knew for a few moments, was Hyunjin’s fingers thrusting into your, riding you through the intense feeling. Feeling as if the bonds have loosened, Hyunjin laying you onto your back again, brushing away tears you didn’t even know were there and giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

“You alright?” He questions, caring side returning as he places a sweet yet fleeting kiss to your lips, looking over your face carefully.

“Hyunjin I did not spend all that time begging for you not to fuck me now, if it’s too much I’ll tell you. Otherwise, you better get the fuck on with it before I actually lose it.” You insist, already gently tugging him between your spread legs. Barely giving him enough time to free his cock, before trying to get him inside of you. Only then do you feel the binds slipping around your thighs to hold you still and open for him while he fully removes his clothes and teases your entrance with his tip for a moment before pushing in. His arms on either side of you, watching as your face scrunches with pleasure and relief as he stretches you open. Hyunjin, groaning softly, when he bottoms out, feeling you tight around him. You take advantage of the fact that your hands are free, seeing Hyunjin’s dark locks fall over his face, to push them away, and let you see his face as well. Feeling you tug at his hair, pulling him closer, he kisses you while giving a quick, hard thrust to tease you while swallowing your pretty little noises. Hyunjin, biting down on your bottom lip and tugging it as he pulls away, giving slower, shallow thrusts.

“Look at you, princess. You can’t stay still. Is it just too much for you to handle? Or is it not enough?” Hyunjin muses, knowing you want him to pound into you, and that you would try to take control if you could move more freely, he lets you tug at his hair though, keeping the tidbit of control you did have, making him bare his neck to you so you can leave matching marks on him. That is all you could do anyways, too far gone to answer, not that you would know what to say anyway, seeing as how it was somehow both too much and too little. All of your senses lit with bright licks of flaming pleasure, while deep down, you wanted to fuel them even more at a quicker pace.

“Just be a good girl with your words one last time, princess, and I promise I’ll give you everything baby.” Hyunjin’s fingers skim over the trail of marks he left behind before rubbing circles onto your clit. Letting each movement bring you enough pleasure to make your head spin, but still not enough to give you the relief you thirsted for. 

Your fingers weave through his hair, tugging again, “Hyunjin, I’m giving you all of me, so take it already, please. You already have me falling apart from barely anything, so show me the worst you can do.”

Hyunjin chuckles, placing a kiss on your jaw before picking up the pace. Holding nothing back down as he gave in to the desires both of you had, letting pleasure overtake you both. “Oh, I will, princess. You’re in for a long night.”

You had expected to wake up besides Hyunjin the next morning, after falling asleep in his arms the night before. Something seemed off though when you fully registered what was going on the next morning, and finding an empty bed and the surrounding area eerily quiet, slipping a shirt on to quietly peek out of the room to see if Hyunjin was simply cooking breakfast again, which he was. That wasn’t all you noticed, though, a glass orb placed delicately on the counter by Hyunjin and swirling with colors as Hyunjin spoke to it. 

“No, I’m not letting my feelings get the better of me. No matter what my feelings are for the princess, I know what the most important thing here is.” Hyunjin huffs at the little glass piece, your heart sinking as you realize he’s talking about you.

“So she has the map then? You can bring both her and it back so we can finally get on with this?” A woman’s voice echo’s through, making your eyes widen, though there is no face to make out and let you see who it could be.

“She doesn’t, but we need her either way. Besides, the ones with the map will come back for her as soon as they realize I have her again, let them come to us instead of wasting our time searching every hiding spot for them.” Hyunjin shrugs, tasting the food, still unaware of your listening in from the bedroom doorway, only barely peeking out so that you could hide again if necessary.

“Very well, just don’t let your heart jeopardize this after all we’ve done and given up. More than a crush or not, if she gets in the way and you won’t deal with it...then I will.” The woman speaks one last time before the orb stops going. You take that as your cue to slip back into the bedroom. 

Sure, Hyunjin’s feelings for you were apparently genuine, or at the least for the princess form of you. That didn’t make this acceptable, though. He was obviously up to something now, and there was no way around it, and he was willing to use you to lure Chan and Felix right back in and give him what he wanted. That being something that you simply could not allow. You scour through the clothes in the cabin, finding something you can move freely in, before slowly creaking the window open to look outside. You step away to sneak another look at Hyunjin to ensure that he was still occupied with food. Before carefully climbing out the window and closing it behind you. Sneaking off into the woods, worried first about being quiet and not giving yourself away before just bolting. Not entirely sure how you’d find Chan and Felix, but knowing that you certainly couldn’t do it if Hyunjin caught you again. The dazzling blue light, appearing for a third time now. Twirling around you before leading the way off until reaching a small stream and disappearing, leaving you to look around curiously until it flashes before your eyes again and turning into a person, not just any person though...you’d finally found Jisung.

[thiswasinevitableid]

88. I dropped my watch in an open grave, jumped in to get it, and while you were visiting your dead grandmother, you saw me climbing out of the grave (credit to @enchantedcass)

Indruck, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here it is! This is technically SFW, though there's some discussion of sex and a bit of steaminess at the end.

“Here, these are fresh.” Indrid sets the wildflowers on the small, stone marker, so covered with moss and worn with age that no one can read it. He only knows where to find her because he watched from the Barrens as she was put in the ground.

Temperance Leeds. His grandmother, the one who narrowly avoided accusations of witchcraft, the only human who ever set foot deep enough in the trees to bring him food, to drape blankets over his shaking shoulders. She never forgot him, and he shall return the favor as long as he lives.

There’s a thump of earth behind him and he whirls; it’s midnight in a graveyard, who could possibly be here? The ghosthunters usually wait for darker nights to come. In his periphery, a hand rises from an open grave.

Great, if the dead rise he’ll probably be blamed for that too.

“Fuck” A young man pulls himself from the grave, staring at his cell phone, “c’mon, please don’t be fuckin cracked.” Light illuminates his face and sighs, “thank fuckin christ.”

The light disappears and he blinks, eyes adjusting to the dark. Indrid, too caught up in working out why he’s in the ground, hasn’t bothered to hide as he should. The human notices.

“Uh. I. Uh. Dropped my phone checkin the time. I, uh, definitely wasn’t smokin in the off limits, uh, fuck, graveyard I, uh, I fuck, promise I’ll clean up my beer bottles I mean, uh, fuck.” He scratches the back of his neck, “please don’t call the cops?”

“Can you see me?” Indrid cocks his head.

“Yeah?”

“And you are worried about me alerting the police?”

“I mean, guess we’re both breakin the rules but I kinda figured you were staff here because of the clothes.” He gestures to the ensemble Indrid cobbled together from clothes lines.

Indrid stands, stretches his wings, flicks his tail and watches the human slowly notice the color of his eyes and the outline of his horns.

“Fuck. Look, man, whatever you are, I swear I won’t tell, I’m just tryin to keep busy, please, my folks are already worried about me-”

“I’m not going to harm you.” Lightning cracks through the sky, flashing his shadow across the frightened human, “I just wanted you to see me clearly.”

Rain patters on the leather of his wings. The man looks up at the sky, face seeming even younger as it fills with resignation. Indrid recognizes it’s source.

“You have nowhere to go, do you?”

“No. I, uh, decided I wanted to get outta town and never come back, made it as far as here before I ran outta money.”

Indrid offers his hand, watches the man’s face zero in on the claws, “You may spend the night with me, if you wish. My home is a ways into the woods, but it is dry and warm.”

“Okay.” The young man replies softly, letting Indrid help him up as the dirt turns to mud. Indrid shelters him as best he can with a wing until they reach the cottage. Indrid kneels by the fireplace, lumps kindling into a pile as the young man sets his backpack on a chair.

“Nice place. Gotta admit I was expectin somethin more dilapidated. On account of the whole, uh, y’know.” He gestures to Indrid’s horns and cloven feet.

“It was much like you expected, once upon a time. But a human named Arlo Thacker took pity on me and helped me build it with the aid of a few friends. There.” The fire flickers merrily, “that should keep us warm. You may--ah, what are you doing?”

The young man has removed his jacket and shirt, revealing what Indrid recognizes from human magazines as a sports bra. His hands are now on the fly of his jeans.

“You said I was supposed to, uh, spend the night with you?”

“Yes, in that you may sleep here to be safe from the weather and any who might wish you harm. Not so that you may keep me warm. So to speak.”

“You’re not gonna fuck me?”

Indrid flicks his tail, surprised, “You would offer yourself to me, looking like this?”

The man nods in a way that suggests he’s run a calculus in his head and decided Indrid’s desire was less abhorrent than some other option. Indrid crosses the small living room, bringing them face to face. He reaches out a hand, runs his claws through black hair until the human closes his eyes. Then his hand slides to cup his cheek, one nail tracing fond little shapes on the skin as the man sighs. Against his better judgement, he tilts his head down to nose the dark locks; smoke lingers there, just as alcohol hangs on his breath. He’s so warm, so willing and so very soft. Indrid wants nothing more than to undress him further, carry him to his cozy bedroom and discover what sounds come when he fits their bodies together.

“What’s your name?”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.”

“A charming one. But no, Duck, I will not take such advantage of you. I may be called a devil, but I do not believe in making one trade their body for basic kindness. Come along, the bedroom will allow you more privacy.”

“Thanks.” Duck sways, and Indrid senses a weariness he’s not certain a good nights rest will fix. Tomorrow he will be sure to be gone when Duck awakens, leaving his dry clothes and a map back to town outside his door so that he can do what Indrid can dare to; leave the Barrens and find a life waiting for him in the world beyond.

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

There are some days when Duck thinks his encounter in the woods was a dream. The hand-drawn map he keeps folded among his books tells him otherwise.

He’d come home after that night, made his peace with Kepler for a few years more, and often awoke from dreams where he was pushing through brush in pursuit of a strange shadow. He never cites these as a reason for his taking a job at a state forest in New Jersey that includes the Barrens.

Now, he’s decided to upgrade from his apartment to a house in the woods that’s been listed for over two years and is a goddamn steal because of that.

“As you can see, there’s another residence across the clearing; that’s why the company that built this lovely dwelling was able to do so. They intended to build a nice little community here.”

“The fact that ain’t happened got anythin to do with the reason I gotta stay the night before I make an offer?”

Ned’s smile falters, “Indeed, dear boy. I like you, so I’ll be forthcoming; we’ve never seen anyone in the other house. But they have most certainly seen us.”

Duck settles in for an uneventful afternoon and evening, reads his book and considers whether he could fit some windowboxes on the house for garden space. It’s not until it’s pitch black outside that it starts; footsteps on the roof, followed shortly by red eyes peering in through the living room window.

He opens the front door, the undergrowth rustling hurriedly to his left.

“Uh, hey there. You may not remember me but, uh, we’ve actually met before. About ten years ago. You uh, you let me stay the night?”

Only some crickets, unaware of the tension in the air, reply to him. Then the bushes grow two, ruby red flowers.

“Duck?”

“Yep. Y’know, you never told me your name. If we’re gonna be neighbors, feels like I oughta know what to call you.”

A shadow moves from the trees, stopping when it reaches the light spilling from the windows. He’s as Duck remembers him; short horns sprouting from a mop of silver hair, claws on his fingers and black wings folded on his back. His skin is a swirl of ashy grey and ember red. And his face, while striking, is human. That was the part that always tripped Duck up; the Jersey Devil was always drawn with a goat or horse face, making him question whether that’s who he met all those years ago.

“Indrid. My name is Indrid.”

“Nice to see you again, Indrid.”

The other man smiles, and Duck knows what will replace the mad hunt through the brush in his dreams, “Likewise.”

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

“You know, she had three more children after me. None of them suffered the same curse.” Indrid kicks idly at the long decayed remains of his family home. Their nightly walk brough them close to it this time around, and Duck had been curious. His interest is never prurient or morbid; Duck wants to get to know Indrid, not his legend.

“That fuckin sucks.”

Indrid chuckles, “I do enjoy how you put things so plainly.”

“I’m serious, what kind of folks put their kid out when it’s a baby? I mean, mine weren't always the fuckin parents of the year but at least they understood lookin after me was part of the deal.”

“It was a different time.”

“Fine, but I’m still judgin the hell outta them.”

Indrid looks fondly down at the human, “That’s as fair a fate for them as any.”

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

“It don’t weird you out?” Juno indicates Indrid’s house from where she and Duck are sitting on his front porch. The twin Adirondack chairs are a new addition, as the warmer months mean he and Indrid spend ample time trying to see the stars through the treetops.

“Nah. Indrid’s a real good neighbor when he’s around. He’s uh, from an old family so he don’t gotta work. Part of why he keeps such weird hours.” Duck wishes he could introduce them; it’d be nice for the three of them to have dinner before Juno heads south again. But Indrid has several centuries of shitty human encounters that dig under his skin like splinters, and Duck will never push him to ignore that pain. Besides, there will be other visits.

The summer and fall pass in much the same ways last winter and spring did. Duck works in the park, visits friends in town, runs errands, and generally goes about all the mundane moments that make up a life. Then he spends his evenings in one of the two cottages, or walking alongside Indrid on long-overgrown pathways.

The hardest part of it all is not mentioning Indrid in every single conversation; Duck is already tempting disaster being unable to lie and the neighbor of a cryptid. He doesn’t want to also drive his friends up the wall talking about said cryptids art, or his laugh, or the little herb garden Duck is helping him grow.

They’re in the stretch of days between Christmas and New Year, and Indrid has just finished opening the gift Duck brought him; a thick, soft sweater that Duck stitched a “I” into the front of along with a few little pine tree patches. Indrid smiles at him and notices that Duck’s sweater is done in a similar fashion (in fact, everyone in the Newton family wears one like this). The grin turns bashful and Indrid rubs his cheek against the fabric.

“Thank you, Duck. I, ah, I’m sorry I do not have anything to give you. Holidays are not my strong suit.”

“Just gettin to see you is enough.” Duck stands to refill his tea, Indrid’s gaze caressing his back as he moves through the room. He almost hadn’t gone home, had offered to stay and keep Indrid company. But his friend insisted, reminding him that while it felt odd to be without each other, they both had spent plenty of time apart and been fine. All the same, when he got home yesterday Indrid was knocking on his door before he even put his bag down.

Duck didn’t mind at all. No more than he minds when Indrid sleeps with his head in his lap or strokes his hair while they read on the couch.

The cryptid stokes the fire as the snow gives way to sleet, streaking the windows with icy drops.

“Goodness, what a frigid night.”

“No kiddin.” Duck sets his mug down, turns just as Indrid gets to his feet, “can’t say I mind, kinda reminds me of the night we met.”

The colors of Indrid’s skin make a blush difficult to spot, but Duck’s learned which dip of his head and quirk of his lip means it’s there.

“‘Drid? Did you ever think about that night? Because I did. I, uh, I do.”

“Yes.” Indrid’s tail twitches.

“What do you think about?”

“I, ah, I...you first.”

Duck crosses the creaking floorboards, looking up into red eyes, “I think about how safe it felt when you brought me here. How when I woke up, I felt like this was some kinda weird sign, that I needed to rethink some things and that’s how come I went home, which turned out to be a good call. And” he smirks, “I think about how I was drunk and desperate enough to ask the fuckin Jersey Devil if he was gonna fuck me.”

Indrid blushes once more, studies the ground as Duck touches his shoulder, “I must say that is the part that dominated most of my thoughts. Not right away; for the first few weeks when I thought of you I only hoped you were alright. Then I would let myself imagine that I had been devilish indeed.”

Gently, Duck raises Indrid’s hand and cradles his cheek with it as they did that night, “What would you have done, devil of mine?”

A snicker, “I will answer that only if you tell me whether you are angling for the demonstration that I think you are.”

“Damn right.” He closes his eyes, heart swelling and skin prickling as Indrid steps closer and nuzzles the top of his head.

“I would have asked if you were tired of running. If you wanted a home. And would you like to make it here, so that we could keep each other company. I know in my heart this would have been a selfish offer. I am glad I did not make it, did not trap you here, resign you to a fate that was not what you would have chosen freely.”

“I’m pretty fuckin free these days.”

“And that all on it’s own fills me with joy. But yes, there were nights where I wished I’d been selfish.”

Duck tips his head up, brushing their noses together, “Say you made that offer and I accepted. What then?”

Indrid cups his face with both hands. The kiss is chaste, Indrid sighing against his lips as he twines his claws in his hair. Duck wraps his arms around his waist, lightly teasing the edge of one wing.

“Then” Indrid murmurs, “I’d carry you to bed.”

“Yeah, that part woulda been easier when I was seventeEEN” he laughs as Indrid scoops him into a bridal carry with ease. He’s never been in Indrid’s bed, so he giggles again when he discovers it’s ten times squishier than his own. The cryptid sinks onto it with him, guiding him so they’re face to face on their sides.

“May I undress you?”

“Knock yourself out, darlin.” Affection deep and warm as a thermal spring wells up in him as Indrid carefully removes his sweater and shirt before dainty setting his claws to work on his fly. When Duck is down to his boxers, hunger enters Indrid’s eyes for the first time.

“Oh you are divine.” One hand strokes his leg, pausing at the crease of his thigh each time it reaches there. The other curves along his belly up to his chest before caressing his face, the black claws making his skin seem oddly pale and very fragile in comparison.

Duck touches the hem of Indrid’s shirt and the cryptid freezes.

“‘Drid? Is this okay?”

“Do you...truly wish to see me unclothed?”

Duck surges forward to kiss him as he rucks up his shirt, the movement a sufficient answer for Indrid to raise his arms and let him pull the sweater and battered shirt beneath it away. His skin here is the same swirl of colors as the rest of him, but there’s a dusting of peach fuzz fur across it. It’s delightful under Duck’s tongue, though the little keen of pleasure from Indrid is even better.

“It’s strange” Indrid traces hearts and zig-zags with his claws along Duck’s sides as the human continues kissing his chest and neck, “I thought that seeing you like this would so overwhelm me with need that I’d beg to have you this instant. But it seems I feel much the same way I did in my fantasies of that night.”

“Oh” Duck reaches up to toy with the base of a horn and Indrid groans happily before continuing.

“Had you stayed, knowing you were now mine, I’d have taken my time. Nestled you under the blankets, opened you up on my tongue until you were weak from pleasure. That way it would be easy to take you when I was ready. Perhaps on your back, so you had me to hold onto if you needed. Or on your belly, so you would be even more sheltered from the cold, cruel world by my body and wings. And I’d stay there for hours, make up for decade after decade of touch starvation by glutting myself on your young, willing body.”

“Holy fuck, ‘Drid.” Duck pulls him down into a kiss, “christ that’s a fuckin good image.”

“Mmmm” the cryptid licks his cheek, “it is, isn’t it. But since you are not going anywhere, and we are not limited by the confines of my imagination, I am even less inclined to rush. Will you indulge me with just kisse tonight?”

Duck brushes silver hair from his forehead, planting a kiss there when he’s done, “Of course.”

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

The morning brings several feet of snow and announcement that those who can stay in their homes and shelter from the ongoing storm should. The pines drop heaps of white across the ground, and frost makes the windows so icy it’s better to draw the curtains and stay curled up in the dark.

Duck doesn’t mind at all.

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 18/18

not my gif

He Who Must Not Be Named

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order,  joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a     Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17]

A/N: bold lines are from the book Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix

Severus Snape emerged from the shadows to stand in front of his ally.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t come, Severus.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore was, as expected, steady and confident. “Do you have it?”

Snape approached him, eying the room with suspicion. It was the first time he had stepped inside Dumbledore’s hiding place, but despite he trusted the man, a chill ran down his spine. Keeping a stoic expression, he reached inside his robes and handed him a rolled piece of parchment.

“She had it with her. As you said.”

Dumbledore unrolled the document and nodded slowly. Another name wrote itself with the others.

“It is vital that Cornelius sees Voldemort first. After that, I will personally make sure that this information reaches the aurors.” The bearded man walked to the end of the room; the dim light of a candle outlined Fawkes’ silhouette.

“My name appears on that list.” Snape watched Dumbledore’s hand halt in the air. He turned around and with challenging eyes, he stared at him as he unrolled the parchment again. Turning his gaze back to the paper, Dumbledore pursed his lips together as if he was going to whistle and with a light blow, the name ‘Severus Snape’ left the paper in the form of black ashes.

He looked up at the potions teacher from up his glasses. Snape nodded.

“What happened to Yankelevich?”

“She will be brought to Nurmergard” The phoenix moved so his master could slide the parchment under him. “Attempted murder, at least.”

“I don’t understand why you sent Williams. Yankelevich wasn’t an immediate threat and Alastor could have done it faster and more efficiently.”

Dumbledore turned and put his hands behind his back. “You underestimate her. She’s learnt fast, and listened to your instructions, didn’t she? You were busy training Harry to notice, of course, but her occlumency skills have improved enormously, and she’s been practising how to communicate with Mr Weasley.”

“You said she would, yes…”

“Well, she refused using her patronus to communicate, and she needed to be away from him to practise.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but he reconsider it. At Snape’s piercing stare, he kept going, “Astrid knew someone was up to no good and needed a favour, however,” he pointed at Fawkes’ nest “that was my goal.”

He walked to the nearest chair and sat down, grabbing a goblet from the table. Before sipping, he caught how Snape’s jaw tensed. “Besides, Alastor’s never run freely around a castle, breaking rules and finding places he is not supposed to enter. She has.”

“How did she know how to find it?”

“I said her skills had improved, not that they were better than mine. I might have… given her a small guidance.” He raised his hand up to his temple’s level and brushed his index and thumb together. “ I was certain that Karkarov knew about the existence of the room. It was the most logical place to hide it.”

“Where is he now?” demanded Snape.

Dumbledore looked at his partner with amused eyes, but corrected his demeanour quickly. “I have no idea. I mistakenly believed he would be in the forest. I sent a letter to Katherine in hopes she would meet him there. Turns out, he is smarter than I thought.”

“It won’t be long until He finds out Karkarov’s writing that.” Snape pointed at Fawkes’s nest, and the bird chirped unhappily.

“I know.” He tsked and took a sip from his beverage, “But it was his choice.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

“We’ll wait. That spell is not easy to perform. We’ll let him write as much as he can.” They fell silent for a long while, lost in their thoughts, until Dumbledore spoke again.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. He wants the prophecy.”

“Of course. Of course…” he stood up and crossed his hands in front of him and searched in his companion’s black eyes. Snape reached inside his sleeve and took out a small vial with a silver liquid in it. He handed it to Dumbledore, who read the tag ‘K. Williams. Durmstrang’.

“She will not remember the names.”

With one last nod, Albus Dumbledore observed how his confidant dissolved in the air.

--

Katherine Williams awoke for the second time in the same Grimmauld Place’s cold room. She let the sun rays hit her eyelids and savoured the memory of Charlie’s firm body against her own.

When she reached behind her, only cold sheets wished her a good morning.

Promise me something. Promise me you’ll wake me up to say goodbye.

She stared at the pillow next to her and sighed. To be fair, he didn’t make such a promise. He didn’t say anything at all.

Putting her disappointment aside, she prepared herself for one of the most exhausting whirlwinds one could face: the loving care of Molly Weasley.

Sitting up with her back against the headboard, she stretched her neck to the side and had to do a double take at the nightstand.

A pink flower with orange undertones sat beside a piece of paper that was folded in half. Her stomach flipped, and she considered forgiving him for leaving.

A snapdragon for the strongest of flowers.

I hope this wasn’t a one-time thing. Owl me.

“Oh, shut up!” Kate whispered, but a chuckle escaped her mouth, anyway.

Movement on the other side of the door startled her, and she hid the note under the pillow before quickly hiding herself behind the covers.

The doorknob turned, and Mrs Weasley entered the room.

“Oh, thank Godric you are alright!” Molly was by her side in four long strides and cradled Kate’s head in her hands. “How are you feeling? Charles told me you woke up last night. You look pale. Did you rest?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley, I’m fine. My head is spinning a little, though.”

“Of course, of course, let me see that arm.”

Internally complaining, Kate let her put the cream on her arm and tend the bruises of her neck.  She didn’t have the courage to tell her that wouldn’t make the scar disappear. When she finished, Molly nodded with a satisfied smile and proceeded to pick up the clothes that were scattered on the floor. Kate held her breath during the entire the process.

“This boy... tsk... taught him better than this! At least he could have brought his clothes with him…” Kate wasn’t sure if she was oblivious or if she was giving them a green card because they weren’t at The Burrow. In any case, she felt the need to take Charlie off the hook.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault, Charlie let me use his clothes after I showered and when I went to sleep... they were bothering me.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. She gestured her neck to point at her bruises and then remembered that maybe there were ones more recent, that she did not want to explain. Charlie had never left a mark on her, but that night he felt a tad possessive and she wasn’t sure he could be trusted.

Although Molly hadn’t commented on them while she was applying the cream, the younger witch rested her hand there, trying to appear casual. Just in case.

“Ah, don’t worry, dear.” Molly waved her free hand nonchalantly and went to pick her cloak from the floor. While putting on the robe that Charlie had left at the end of the bed, Kate remembered that she technically stole the uniform band.

“Oh, this is warm! What a nice coat!” She waved the magically warmed piece of clothing, admiring it, and something the size of a matchbox flew across the room in doing so. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I always check the pockets and now look at this!” She murmured something under her breath and went to pick up the mysterious object, but Kate interrupted her.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

“Very well, then. I made you some breakfast, but it’s already cold, Charlie made me swear I would let you sleep in!” She laughed and when she was crossing the threshold, she added, “Arthur got your trunk, it’s downs… ah!”

Mr Weasley appeared from behind her with a smile on his face and his hands on her waist.

“Oh, not you too, Arthur, I have enough with your sons apparating everywhere…”

His husband ignored her with a laugh and entered the room, her trunk following him in the air.

“Special delivery!” He roared.

“Thank you so much, Mr Weasley.” He approached Kate, and after hugging her shoulders with an arm, he kissed the top of her head. “You scared us the other day, eh?” He squeezed her. “But, let’s thank Godric you are safe and sound! I must go to work now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“I’m fine, really. We healers recover quickly. Tonks filled me in, and I’m feeling alright.”

“Alright, then. I’ll let you change.” Molly placed a hand on her own cheek for a moment and left the room without another word.

The moment Mrs Weasley closed the door behind her, Kate spooned around and crawled down the wooden desk to retrieve the small object.

Placing it on her palm, she murmured ‘engorgio’, making the tiny leather journal grow to its original size.

Letters, maps, notes, names, drawings, and a full research on how to magically cross plant species were contained in that notebook. The past six months were portrayed in those pieces of paper, and their value was incalculable.

Looking up, she faced one of the obscure paintings that belonged to the Black family. Kate stared at a woman standing on a bridge in what appeared to be a forest, and a question formed in her mind. She needed to go to St. Mungo’s.

 Convincing Molly that she could go alone to the hospital was harder than the mission she just came from. After a diluted Invigoration Draught and some help from Lupin, she managed to step out of Grimmauld Place.

She didn’t feel ready to apparate, and she doubted she would ever be, so she enjoyed her walk through the streets of the city. With the muggle money that Lupin gave her, she jumped on the first underground station she saw and followed his directions.

She got comfortable on an empty seat and observed the people on the train car. When she saw a couple getting handsy in a corner, a wave of sadness washed over her, and had to look away.

She missed Charlie terribly. The night before was too desperate and rushed, she didn’t have time to savour the moment. She didn’t even ask him about his mission with the giants, about his dragons, or about how he felt all that time alone at home. Being on a mission kept her head occupied for most of the time, but now, with nothing to do, she anticipated some time of loneliness.

She brought her hand to her chest, and her heart ached even more when she couldn’t find the necklace that Charlie had gifted her many years before. No. Stop it. You’ll get answers and study your notes and then... and then you will have to explain to Dumbledore you lost an important document that could have saved lives. Brilliant.

Soft clapping noises brought her back to reality. A woman in front of her was struggling to hold an excited baby on her lap. Kate observed the child and smiled when his little finger touched her mother’s nose. The baby turned his head and stared at Kate for a while before raising his arm to wave at her. She chuckled and returned the greeting, her trip improving slightly and temporarily.

 Walking through St Mungo’s doors had a mixed effect of nostalgia and excitement. She had spent many hours in that hospital studying, training, and learning, and all of a sudden, she was fresh out of Hogwarts again, with all the emotions that implied. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the corridor and started searching for her first mentor and boss, Madame Louise.

She scanned the faces of the healers that were working, rapidly treating the patients like frantic ants recollecting their food.

“Williams?” Kate turned at the deep voice calling her and recognised the robust middle-aged woman in front of her. “What brings you here? I thought you were working in Romania?”

“Hello, Madame Louise, yes, well I was… working there. But I’m here as a patient today.”

Madame Louise frowned and looked at Kate up and down before giving a curt nod.

“Wait on that bed.” She said before turning and walking away.

Kate sat as directed and stared at the beautiful glass stained windows of the place.

“I request you let me go right now! This is nonsense.” She could recognise that firm voice anywhere. To her right Professor McGonagall was lying on one of the beds and arguing with a boy that Kate figured he was wishing he hadn’t been born.

She walked towards them and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

“Who are you? You are not a healer; Madame Louise will hear about this.”

“Mister, this young woman knows more than you, do us all a favour and go with your mother.” Intervened McGonagall.

“I heard Jared O’Leary was looking for you.” The boy shifted in his place and nodded nervously before leaving them alone.

“Professor, what happened?” Kate’s healer mode activated and started scanning McGonagall for injuries and signals of distress.

“Oh, Williams, a lot is been happening this past year. I can imagine you’ve been informed?”

“Vaguely. I arrived two days ago from…”

“I know.”

Kate grabbed the file at the foot of the bed and read the report on McGonagall’s state.

“Four stunning spells to the chest?” She looked up and asked with her eyes, but her professor wasn’t in a mood for a talk.

“Williams, I must get out of here and go back to Hogwarts. I’m afraid it’s going to be too late by the time they let me go.”

“Professor, you could faint just by… too late for what?”

“Williams!” Madame Louise motioned her to come closer. Kate hesitated, but followed the mediwizard to a quieter space. “What happens to be the problem?”

“I’ve been poisoned two days ago.”

“In that case you should have come earlier, don’t you think?”

“There’s been… complications. I wanted to ask you if it’s possible to poison someone without using a vial or a potion or, I don’t know, food or drinks.”

The woman hummed and crossed her arms in front of her. “That’s rather strange.”

“Is this…” Kate moved the collar of the shirt to the side, revealing the red marks that hadn’t disappeared yet. “… a possible way?”

Louise grabbed the glasses that were hanging by a chain around her neck and placed them on the tip of her nose to inspect the injuries.

“The poison could have been injected with some kind of needle, but the shape of these marks means claws or… nails.”

She took her glasses off and waved them while talking. “I imagine it is possible, but you must have a very twisted mind to carry around poison in your nails. Also, you need to be very careful, a bad placement of the poison can cause yourself to get ill. In what kind of troubles are you getting into, Williams?”

“It’s a story for another day.”

 “Madame Louise, I can’t find Jared O’Leary…” The boy that was treating McGonagall appeared from behind Kate.

“What are you talking about? Go back to work! Naturally, you can’t find him. He doesn’t work here anymore!”

“But she…”

“Is every patient cured, Mr Boyle?” Kate slid away from the conversation to where Professor McGonagall was resting.

“I suddenly feel tired…”

Kate nodded and checked that the potions on her nightstand were filled and in order. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she turned to look at McGonagall.

“Katherine. You must find Potter. Something terrible is about to happen.”

Kate frowned and got closer to her former professor’s face.

“The Ministry. Try the Ministry,” she whispered.

Kate didn’t think twice. She ran all she could to the underground station, receiving some odd glances from the surrounding people.

When she arrived at the Ministry stop, she could sense the commotion even from the muggles that were passing by.

“A gas leak.” She heard while climbing up the mechanic stairs. Some people complained at her rudeness, but she couldn’t stop and apologise at the moment.

“There’s the press. Those vultures. It was probably a problem with plumbing. Look! The water reached the first floor!” A man said.

Kate tried to walk among the curious souls that were conglomerated around the building and recognised the protection bubble that was forming around it. She slid under it with ease.

“But I heard an explosion! I’m telling you!” a woman said to a journalist.

She tried to enter the building, but what seemed to be an auror stopped her.

“Let me in! I’m a healer!”

The man remained stoic and grabbed her arm.

“Identification?”

“I… I don’t have it right now but…”

“You can’t go in, Miss” She tried to get rid of him and she almost succeeded, but when the doors to the Ministry opened, she stopped the struggle. Four aurors walked out the building protecting several figures that walked behind them. She tried to reach them, but the security guard grabbed her again.

“You are the cursed girl! Daily Prophet here! Are you involved in the accident? How do you think your father will react to this? How do you think this is connected to your brother?”

“I’m not…” dumbfounded by the flash of a camera, she tried to escape from the journalists.

“Miss Williams! Miss Williams! What can you tell us about the person who died?”

She couldn’t hear anything, see anything, someone pushed her, and she felt another flash of a camera. Her head was spinning.

Cornelius Fudge stepped out of the building and pointed his wand at his neck. He cleared his throat and all the attention was directed at him.

“It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord… well, you know who I mean… is alive and among us again.”

--

[Epilogue]

--

Tag List:

@eldritchscreech​

@meteora-fc​

@cazreadsstuff

@the-navistar-carol​

@am-i-space​

[zwowow]

kells relapse?

Moderation. It can be good in moderation. That's what he says to himself every time he shakes a couple pills into his hand and swallows them dry. He's proven to himself time and time again that moderation doesn't work for him, but maybe this time is different.

He'd been clean for a couple of months after going to rehab. Being with Em made it easier to to be sober, but his main reason for getting clean would always be his daughter. They're both so proud of him for handling sobriety that it crushes him to know he's letting them down every time he takes another.

That's why he's doing somethings he's never done before. He's hiding. He can't use openly around Em or Casie, but he's gotten to the point in his 'moderation' that he can't go without it.

He was able to at first, only use when he was home and feeling down by himself. It had been months since he'd felt this depressed, so it was natural to treat it on his own. It felt right.

After a few weeks, down and sad began to feel like the return to normal after the high, no longer a temporary break in his happiness. He needed the pills to seem normal. To feel normal. To be able to have a conversation and follow along, like normal.

Em knew something was wrong, he knew something wasn't normal. But he didn't know what. He asked if Kells was alright and if Kells was high he'd say yes, and if he wasn't, he'd say he was just tired.

His morning pill gave him the energy to shave and dress and paste a smile on his face on the way out of Em's house, and the two he took before lunch made it easier to text back, and the three or four he took through the day made it easier actually get shit done. He was living his life pretty normally, with the help of the pills, but Em's watchful eyes told him he knew something was up, even if he didn't know exactly what.

"You doin' good?" Em stops him on the way out of his house one morning.

"Yeah, all good." He leans down and kisses Em softly on the corner of the mouth then tries to pull away. Em keeps his grip tight on Kells' arm, his fingers light up millions of nerve endings. His heart thrums in his chest, beating so hard and fast he wonders if Em can feel it beating against his hold.

"You're not good." Em doesn't release his arm, and the touch starts to itch. He's not letting go. If he starts to ask too many questions Kells is just gonna leave. He's going to pull out of his grasp and walk away like he has the right to do because he's a grown ass fucking man and Em is his boyfriend and not his fucking dad.

The pills he's got in his jean pocket make no noise in the tiny ziplock he's keeping them in, but Kells swears both he and Em hear them clattering around in there. He uses his free arm to pat them still.

Stupid move.

Dumbass.

Now, Em knows he has something in his pocket. Facing Em, Kells moves his hand away from his pocket slowly.

What if Em dives for it?

He reaches down to touch them again.

Eight pills. He counts as he fingers the outline of them through his pocket.

Eight pills is barely enough. He needs to call and get more. No. What he needs to do is throw them all away and get back on the wagon.

But that would make him sick. And he'd have to go back to being fucking depressed. He'd rather be an addict than a fucking bummer.

No. That's bullshit. Casie needs a dad. She needs a better father than someone on addy all the time can be. Em would rather be with him sad than sober.

Shit.

Em.

He's got his arm in a hold and looking at him like he's expecting an answer to something.

"Huh?"

Em's eyes widen then narrow quickly. "I said... You're. Not. Good."

Not right now, Em is kind of ruining his high.

"I'm fine."

"You're high as shit." Em is unimpressed. And angry. His jaw twitches and those narrow blue eyes don't let Kells look away.

"I'm..." Lie. Tell the truth. Lie. Truth.

"If you try and say you're not, you and those fuckin' pills you got in you're pocket can get the fuck out."

Truth, then.

"Yeah. I'm high." It's not a proud moment. It's actually fucking embarassing. He's getting scolded for being high like he's fourteen again.

"How long?"

He'd slipped a few pills while Em was showering, "Maybe an hour, hour and a half."

"Are you fucking..." Em looks dangerously close to kicking him out regardless of his omission. After taking a breath, he starts again. "How long have you been using?"

"Oh." Blushing, he counts the weeks from when he took his first pill in months at a party. "About a month."

"Fuck." Em spits

"Yeah."

"So, what are you gonna do?" Em's face draws into a sneer. His lips curl in tightly causing his pronounced cupids bow to straighten out and reveal his teeth. The smooth skin of his forehead, so well protected despite his age, wrinkles in disdain. Kells has mapped every freckle, curve, and line of Em's face but disappointment and disgust, this true and bold, distorts his face into something barely recognizable.

The longer he waits to respond, the tighter Em's jaw gets, but he can't focus on anything else but his face. His eyes, blue and icy are on fire. His nose, naturally pointed, turns up. His mouth, is pulled apart in frustration. His teeth grind together. One eyebrow is ticked at the arch. It's asking the question Kells can't think of an answer to.

What is he going to do?

"Lemme make it simple. Go to fucking rehab or get the fuck out." It's the second ultimatum in only a few moments. Em is always about giving him choices, though he never feels like he has any options. There's Em's way, or the there's the way out.

Rehab. He's been before. Obviously that shit didn't stick. The pills in his pockets would need to go. He'd go right back to his lows and the anxiousness that's set in. But it's what Em wants him to do.

The way out. He could leave right now. He could walk out and take his pills and live the off kilter life he was living before Em came into it.

The pills have him hyperfocused, thoughts running at a million miles per hour. Leave Em and let down his daughter, or stop the pills. It should be an easy choice.

It's not. But he makes it anyway.

"You packin' my bag for me, then?"

"Definitely not," Em's jaw stays hard, but his eyes soften, "But I'll get rid of this bag." He says, and reaches into Kells' pocket to take out his baggie and all eight pills.

Kells fixates on Em rolling the pills below his thumb and misses half of what he says next.

The part he does catch is the end, and it's the break in Em's frown when he says, "I love you. You know that, right?"

Yeah. He does.

[bugsandchatons]

when you weren’t mine to lose (6)

Summary: Change is a scary thing, especially when it feels like nothing has stayed the same.

It’s been a year since Marinette became the Guardian of the Miracle Box - a year of struggling beneath a burden she never asked for, a weight that has her leaning on her partner more and more as the hours fly by, of letting him come to her, too, when he needs a soft place to land. A year of falling for the boy who takes on the world by her side with a smile made of sunlight, and fighting the growing urge to tell him what he means to her.

After all, they’ll have time enough for that when Paris is safe.

But when the unthinkable happens, Marinette learns the tragedy of loving someone quietly, and the lines she’ll cross to save him.

[[AO3]] {from the beginning}

*****

[six: dear lord, when I get to heaven]

Another sunrise breaks the clouds.

This time, Ouroboros keeps an eye on the comings and goings of Paris from the secrecy of the shadows. She watches Chat Noir emerge from Marinette’s skylight and tracks his movements as he bounds over rooftops, carefree with his ignorance of what’s to come.

What had come. Past tense. As long as she breathes, it won’t happen again. 

She stays hidden as he sails through the sky. If his shoulders tense with every step closer to the Agreste Mansion, she notices, but discards it. She can do nothing about it now, but she’ll remember.

Instead, she lets him go, swearing it’ll be the last time she ever has to.

Revealing herself to him earlier had been a mistake. Tikki had warned her that even outside of Hawkmoth’s direct influence, the Akuma would still make her more easily moved by her emotions, especially negative ones. If she wanted to stay off this Hawkmoth’s radar, she’d have to keep it under control. 

And she would. Nothing would stand in her way when the time came. But she has hours to go, and until then, she does all she can do; she watches.

She keeps watch from the eaves of the clocktower as Adrien leaves his house for the bakery. She takes up a post in the tree across the street to see him leave with a pastry box in hand and his eyes on the back of Marinette’s head with an expression so soft she’s not sure how she never felt it.

From the rafters of the Gare du Nord, she watches Félix disembark his train into Nathalie and Adrien’s care. She notices how, as fans approach Adrien by the minute, Félix grows more and more caustic, and Adrien’s shoulders become more and more strained.

As Ouroboros follows them throughout the morning and into the afternoon while they drift between tourist attractions, she thinks of and learns many things: She wonders what Gabriel Agreste could be up to today that would convince him to allow Adrien out of the house for so long. She wonders how it took her until now to realize that Félix must be the one to become Mirror Image. She wonders, too, what makes up a person; how Adrien could be so different from his cousin, a boy who looks so much like him on the outside but couldn’t be more his opposite, or how Chat Noir could be so fundamentally unlike his father that it leads them to opposing sides of the same war.

She wonders how a boy raised in loneliness and derision could grow up only to be unfailingly kind, and learns that a heart can take so many breaks in so few hours and still keep beating.

As the day slips by, it occurs to her that this is what Chat Noir dies for: Hawkmoth’s insatiable greed and Félix’s poisonous envy. The brightest of them all ends with his light doused, reduced to ashes for nothing worthy of his life.

This is not how his story should end.

It sets her teeth grinding and gives birth to a rage so overpowering it’s nearly enough to have her throwing caution to the wind and storming the Agreste Mansion on her own - nearly. Instead, she takes a breath. She watches, and she remembers.

She watches Adrien trail behind his pitiful excuse for a family and sees the way he casts longing looks in the direction of  Françoise Dupont whenever their journey carries them past the school. What adds a final crack to the fault lines mapping her heart is the realization that, at the end of it all, the day that became his last was a disappointing one.

Let him go, she wants to scream. Let him go back to where he’s loved. 

She’s about thirty seconds from breaking, from swinging down from the Eiffel Tower and stealing Adrien away when the sound of a vortex opening makes her jump. Ouroboros spins around in time to see the blinding white-blue flash and a familiar figure stepping through it. 

“Oh, Minibug. What have we gotten ourselves into now?”

Ouroboros gapes at her. “Where have you been?” 

Bunnyx waves a hand. “Here and there.” Her eyes scan the area before settling on Ouroboros. She arches an eyebrow. “New suit? Edgy.”

Fury, as potent as it is misplaced, swells inside her until she’s seething. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say?” 

“No, not all. Come on, we’ve got to split.” Bunnyx takes a step back toward her burrow portal, but Ouroboros holds her ground. 

“What? No way,” she hisses. “I’m not leaving.”

Something like frustration flickers across Bunnyx’s expression. “Look at you, LB. We’re on thin ice already - all of this can snowball out of control at any second, and you’ve made a choice that’s going to have some consequences, so the best thing to do is-” 

“Where were you?” Ouroboros interrupts, her voice small. “I screamed your name for an hour. I begged you to come and help me, to help him, but now you show up? To try to stop me? Alix,” she drops her voice low, “why?” 

It’s enough to break through the mask of Bunnyx’s composure. She hesitates, then shoves a jerky hand over her rabbit ears. “Listen, it’s not...it’s not easy to be in there, okay?” She throws an arm out toward her burrow. “Most of the time, I can’t change anything, I just see it. The future isn’t set in stone and every choice we make can change a hundred different little things. By the time this path played out, you had already set out to change it. But now things are about to get complicated, so we’ve got to go.” 

“No.” Ouroboros doesn’t move. “I’m here to save Chat.” 

Bunnyx sighs. “And have you thought about how you plan to do that, little Miss Angry Bug-Snake? It’s already in motion. Unless you’re going to swoop in, be seen by half of Paris looking like that, and somehow snatch Félix Graham de Vanily’s Akuma out of thin air, it’s already over. And by the way, I don’t recommend that. It’ll do some serious damage to the timeline.”

“No,” Ouroboros repeats, crossing her arms. If time and fate were an unstoppable force, she would be an immovable object. “I’m going to stop the battle.”

The exasperation in Bunnyx’s expression gentles. “That’s not going to work, Ladybug. I’ve seen this go down, I’ve tried to find a loophole, but it really only ends one of two ways.”

“And those two options are?” 

Bunnyx looks away. “Either Chat dies, or Mirror Image does. If it goes that way, we end up with a guilt-ridden, akumatized kitty situation.” She puts her hands together and mimes an explosion, which Ouroboros supposes is meant to be a crude representation of the moon.

The bottom promptly drops out of Ouroboros’s stomach, and out of her world. “I...I don’t accept that.”

“I know,” Bunnyx says, not unkindly. “But the horrible truth is that if Félix gets akumatized into Mirror Image, he becomes Chat’s bane - someone isn’t going to make it out of that fight alive, and it’s too late to stop it now.” 

“What about me?” Ouroboros demands. “Why can’t I do anything?”

“You’ve lived it, you saw it first hand. His powers mess you guys up, and there’s just no way you can move fast enough between realizing what’s going to happen and Chat using Cataclysm to physically stop him. And this,” Bunnyx gestures to her, “is already a mess.” 

They’re silent for a moment. Ouroboros’s chest heaves while Bunnyx waits. Then, Ouroboros speaks again. “You said I made a choice that’s going to have consequences. If that’s why you’re here, why didn’t you stop me when I made the choice to be akumatized?”

“Because that choice, while wild as hell, is not ultimately the choice I’m talking about. You made it just now before I showed up. Or, well. You’re about to make it, soon enough.” Bunnyx waves a hand. “Minutes, seconds. It’s all semantics, really.” 

Ouroboros didn’t think so. The most memorable things happened in a matter of moments - a shared smile, a turn of luck, a broken heart. The whole world could change in seconds when a life ended and a choice was made.

“You said it wasn’t set in stone,” Ouroboros says, lifting her determined gaze to meet Bunnyx’s. “I’m going to find a way to save him. You have to let me try.” 

Bunnyx stares back. There’s a beat, then another, before she sighs. “I guess if anyone can, it would be you.”

Ouroboros blinks. The clocktower chimes the hour, and her heart pounds hard against the cage of her ribs. Somewhere in Paris, Ladybug is waiting. Somewhere below, in the crowd, Chat Noir is trying to get away. She knows, she knows, but seeing it is a different thing entirely, and she has to get back to Adrien, to know for sure - “You’re not going to try to stop me?” 

Bunnyx already has one foot inside her burrow. She offers a jaunty two-fingered salute. “Let’s see if you can rewrite fate, Minibug. Good luck.”

With that, the vortex swallows her whole, and Ouroboros feels it even more keenly - the slipping of time as it begins to run out.

 *****

She starts running.

At twenty-two minutes past, Chat Noir will make it to where Ladybug is waiting. They will race to Trocadéro, where she will almost tell him her name before the Akuma attack interrupts. By the clamor of the next bell, he’ll be gone.

She has less than an hour to change history.

Ouroboros glances up at the dusk-glooming sky, finds the outline of the waxing moon, and figures she’s managed harder feats than this.

A round, smooth object, hefty for its size, materializes in the palm of her hand. When she glances down, she frowns at it - a pocket watch, vintage and peculiar - but when she focuses on the time, it tells her she doesn’t have much left to spare for pondering at the form it took.

Adrien and his group have not made it far from where Ouroboros let them out of her sight. Every few minutes, he casts his eyes around, looking increasingly desperate. She can sympathize. The busy square alone would be a nightmare for transforming, to say nothing of having to escape Nathalie and his bodyguard’s watchful stare. With every passing moment, Adrien grows twitchier. That could be enough of a confirmation.

Still, she knows a part of her will never believe it until she sees.

An opportunity rises when Nathalie’s phone rings, right as their bodyguard steps away to grunt an order to a café worker. Adrien takes the chance to slip away, into the crowd. 

Félix follows him.

Ouroboros tries to draw close enough to hear without sacrificing her vantage point. This is it, she thinks.

In moments, they’ll go their separate ways - Chat to find her, and Félix to the waiting wings of an Akuma. Whatever it is they say to each other, it’s the final catalyst. 

She wants to know if it was worth it.

It’s a morbid wish, and ultimately one the universe does not grant her. All she’s left with is the frown on Adrien’s face and the sneer on Félix’s. Adrien turns away from him, the line of his shoulders tight. He misses the way bitter resentment twists Félix’s face.

She can’t imagine anything Adrien could say that would warrant such anger from his cousin, but she supposes that’s not the point. In the end, it doesn’t matter; it couldn’t be anything worth the cost.

With a final scowl, Félix goes in the opposite direction, while Adrien retreats further into the spaces between buildings. Ouroboros shadows his steps until he finds an alley away from prying eyes.

Her heart starts pounding a vicious rhythm.

She watches, numb, as Plagg zips out of his shirt, a little black blur, and disappears into the ring on Adrien’s right hand. When the green flash of magic fades and Chat Noir stands in his place, there’s no triumph of a theory proven or a curiosity satisfied. There’s only another splintering crack to a heart made of glass.

They wasted so much time chasing each other in circles.

It makes sense now, why for years she could never confess her feelings to Adrien, just as she struggled to share the truth with Chat Noir. Deep down, she’d known in her heart what her head hadn't - she couldn’t do him the injustice of loving in half-measures. 

She can see the whole picture, now: a lonely boy, intoxicated by the sips of freedom that his Miraculous grants him, stuck under the thumb of a father who cares very little and values his life even less. A broken boy who chose to be a hero, who makes that choice again with every passing day. One who loves loudly and fearlessly, and values her so highly that he’d throw his own life away in the blink of an eye. 

Tomorrow, Ouroboros thinks, swiping away an angry, errant tear. Tomorrow, when this was over and resolved, her partner would begin to learn his worth.

He’ll know, without a doubt, that he’s loved.

 *****

As horrible as the circumstances are, it feels like a gift to see herself this way. She and Chat make a pretty picture as they fly through the darkening blue sky and leave laughter in their wake, just as they do back to back, taking a moment alone to breathe.

A glance at the watch tells her there’s no more time for regrets. She could ache over the time they wasted until her heart gave out, or she could focus on beating the clock and saving him.

It begins any minute now.

When civilians start screaming and Chat Noir and Ladybug spring apart, Ouroboros takes a deep breath and moves. The heroes drop down into the street, and she scales the building closest to the one that provides the setting for their fatal face-off.

Her mind races in time with her frantic heartbeats. She holds out a hand, a silent plea for help - for anything that will help her change the course of this fight.

A dark red recurve bow comes to life in her grasp, bringing with it two slender, black arrows.

She offers a grim smile. One shot, and one second chance.

She’s never shot a bow before, but Tikki must know what she’s doing. Luck, she thinks, wouldn’t dare fail them again.

Ouroboros lifts a hand to her face. She presses a kiss first to Chat’s ruined ring, then to the darkened charm strung above it, and waits. 

When Chat chases Mirror Image up onto the rooftop, Ladybug on his heels, she studies the Akuma the way she hadn’t had a chance to before. He’s barely visible, but the setting sun glints off of something metallic where a pocket might be.

A pocket watch.

She wings a silent thanks to Tikki and a prayer along with it. They’re down to seconds, now.

When Ladybug reaches for her yoyo, Ouroboros lines up her shot and draws the bowstring back until her fingers brush her own cheek. She breathes in and lets her first arrow fly free on the exhale. 

The arrow snags Mirror Image’s pocket, tears the watch free, and pins it out of reach. It dangles from its chain; snared, but not broken.

Ouroboros curses under her breath.

All movement below stops for just a second like someone’s pressed pause, before they resume once more. Her distraction was enough, though - Ladybug calls for her Lucky Charm, and without Mirror Image right in front of her to stop it, the hand mirror she receives is red and black spotted, as it should be.

Mirror Image moves next, his focus on Ladybug. Ouroboros watches Chat’s face change into something fierce and determined and thinks of action where once, she’d been frozen instead.

Someone, she remembers, isn’t making it out of this fight alive.

So she touches a hand to the Miraculous around her wrist and does what she couldn’t, before: she slows the passing seconds down and moves, throwing herself into the open sky. 

As Ouroboros falls, she lines up her next shot and thinks again of what makes up a person - of skin and bone and sinew, of expanding lungs and pounding blood, the impossible, miraculous measure of being alive. She thinks of hard choices and sunbeam smiles, of a stubborn heart, strung together by wild hope and unwavering faith in her partner.

He calls for his Cataclysm right before he sees her. In slow motion, she can see the way his eyes fly wide, how his brow furrows beneath his mask. She looses her last arrow and lets the bow fall, then holds out her hand.

I’m sorry, Chat. He’ll not make it out of this battle unscarred, she realizes. None of them will. 

But he’ll live, and she’ll be there to hold him up through the storm that will follow. 

Her arrow hits its target, this time. The pocket watch shatters, and Ouroboros drops in between the hero and Akuma. She catches Chat’s smoking hand in hers before it can make contact with the fading mirror, or Félix on his knees behind it. 

Cataclysm is a cold sort of burn, Ouroboros learns. She gasps at the ice in her fingers and toes as something in her chest catches fire. She shuts her eyes against the pain and thinks again of where the light goes when the night inevitably comes to claim it. Then, she forces her eyes open and finds it, in glowing green eyes. 

[vampiresuns]

Corazón Sufriente, Corazón Sangrante

3.5k words. The Crews of The Jagged Ruby and El Corazón Sangrante spend the night in Hinode. However, Captain Syd and the crew of Inuwashi cross the waters of the Strait before they even set sail the next morning, rattling the beings that inhabit it. Having no option but to sail as soon as they can, they are forced to face the storm waiting for them in the water.

The crew of The Jagged Ruby, El Corazón Sangrante, and Inuwashi belong to @apprenticealec​​. You can also check her map and lore about the Strait of Sirens here.​

This is the second and last instalment of Part VI of Secrets of An Ancient Moon Series. 

Want to read more of these series? You can find it’s masterpost here.

CW: Brief mentions of unhealthy family dynamics.

Rodrigo was something completely different from Jacqui. An entire different type of fish — an analogy he had hated. Not that him hating it was about to stop Jules from using it. 

They had known him for less than a day, yet they had already argued about at least five different topics. All of them unprompted. They had argued about slang, about whether their shared mother tongue was actually called Alzor or Nopali; Jules said both were acceptable, Rodrigo wasn’t so convinced. They had also begun bickering because Rodrigo, finding them again after docking in Hinode, tried to make for their ‘interrupted’ introduction earlier that morning, only to be met with Jules laughing through their nose and telling him he was shorter than Saoirse. They did not expect to touch a nerve, but they did.

Then it was some random thing neither of them knew how they ended up talking about, Jules ‘hoarding’ Jacqui, and finally because Jules had had the gall to make an assessment out of Rodrigo and be right about it.

“You too, huh?” Jacqui asked him. “What did they tell you?” 

Rodrigo grumbled something about ‘hearts’, and ‘choices’, and people like ‘us’. “Anyway, I told them there could be an ‘us’ if they wanted to, grabbed their face and the next thing I knew fucking Saoirse was standing right behind me, like what the fuck.” 

Jacqui laughed. Rodrigo looked at him as if he had just told him the worst of insults. 

“You know they do that because they think it’s funny, right?” 

“Shut up, Jacqui.”

Rodrigo’s Quartermaster looked over his Captain’s shoulder, snorting at the same time as Saoirse said: “Hi, Rodrigo,” making him jump from his chair.

None of those wouldn’t be the last of Julianus’ offences against Rodrigo that night. The crown jewel of them all would come when they asked him and Jacqui for how long they had been together. While Jacqui clammed up, Rodrigo answered ‘20 years’ like it was nothing. However, when Jacqui tried to tell him Julianus didn’t mean as Captain-and-Quartermaster, he laughed, and left. 

“So it’s not like—? Oh.” Saoirse laughed softly, and kissed their temple.

In hindsight Jules should’ve anticipated Rodrigo coming back to steal their drink, since they “weren’t going to finish it.” 

In any other circumstances, Jules would’ve rolled their eyes, yelled something smart back at whomever took their drink, and carried on. That drink, however, had pisco mixed with a soft drink. It was a popular mix in Altazor, but slightly harder to find in other places — mostly due to the lack of pisco— and, it was Rodrigo who had taken it. 

“Hey! That’s mine!”

Rodrigo began walking away faster.

This would be one of those moments which Julianus would never forget. The blur of faces as they chased Rodrigo in the tavern part of the Inn, Manolo’s and Manuela’s concerned faces. Walking over someone’s table after climbing on a chair without thinking too much about it. Or rather, without overthinking about it. There were no what-abouts, no ifs, no what-will-whoever-thinks. Just them, trying to calculate their odds as they tackled Rodrigo into the ground. He yelled something about his coat getting dirty, Jules told him he shouldn’t have stolen his drink. 

Neither of them were putting on a real fight, though at the same time they were. Rodrigo fought better, but Jules was more slippery and had, per Saoirse’s own confirmation and now for everyone to witness, an unexpectedly strong thigh-lock. 

Meredith was yelling insults at Rodrigo and cheering on Julianus, with either ‘you go, Sanlaurento’, or ‘that’s my legal bastard’. J. C. would not register it until hours later, and while they suspected it was solely because they were fighting Rodrigo and had tackled him to the ground, it still brought a smile to their face. 

Looking at them as they fought, Saoirse and Jacqui stood together. Jacqui refused to get involved, claiming this wouldn’t have happened if Rodrigo had not stolen their drink. 

“You know those fights between siblings which start to get too serious?” He asked Saoirse.

“No, not really.”

“Well, this is a little like those.” 

After a moment or two, he spoke again. “So, this is ‘your Julie’.”

Saoirse’s smile was the brightest Jacqui had ever seen in them. “Sometimes I think I will anticipate their thought process. Sometimes I do. Others…,” there it was again, the smile, “I have no idea.”

The fight ended when Saoirse got Jules another drink, and helped them get off from Rodrigo who was yelling at them not to get his face, while Jules yelled at him that he got theirs first. They were both perfectly alright, despite their dramatics, but in the morning Julianus’ forehead would develop a small bruise right where their hairline began, Rodrigo having accidentally elbowed them. It was, for once, a legitimate accidental blow. 

Later, Saoirse would say that Jules had a very thick head, as they held ice to their forehead just in case. Jules was sharing a bedroom with Theo, and while the ship’s medic would’ve been able to do just the same, Saoirse wanted to do it. They, on the other hand, had to sleep in the same room as Meredith, to keep the Queen safe. 

Theo had offered to change places with Saoirse, swearing ‘most ardently’ that he would never let anything happen to Meredith. Saoirse, bound by the code by their own choice, declined.

When the two of them were alone, Saoirse having left to their own bedroom, Theo gave Jules a sympathetic look.

“You look melancholic, my dear friend. Empty bed blues?”

“No, not really. I do know how it goes, and besides, it’s their job. You don’t see Saoirse complaining about my law books, do you?”

“So what is it? If you wish to talk about it,” he said as he sat on Jules’ bed, “I am happy to be your faithful confidant.”

“Thank you, Theodore. Do you promise not to think it’s stupid?”

Theodore crossed his heart, then put his open palm above it and raised his other hand. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Jules was silent for so long, gathering their thoughts, that the doctor thought they’d never speak. However, they did, turning to them with such vulnerability in their face that Theodore, poetic and candid as he was, almost gasped. 

“I’m not used to being in a place where I want to find out what happens tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after. It’s like my mind decided to have this moment, out of all possible moments to realise I am not going anywhere.”

“Anywhere how? Oh, Meredith wouldn’t turn you away!”

“No, not like that. Anywhere as in here, in this world. That this is my life and I get to live it, for many more years than I ever thought I’d get to live.”

Theodore hugged them. Jules didn’t expect the gesture tensing for a fraction of a second before fully leaning into it. Theo was hugging them with both his arms, but he was doing it around their side, not in front of them, which made returning the hug a little awkward. Jules still did their best. 

“I’m so very glad we are friends.”

Jules smiled. “So am I, Theo. You deserve good things.”

“So do you.”

“Just take the compliment.”

“Pot and kettle! You take the compliment!”

They bickered some more, like old friends who have known each other for their whole lives, until Theo sent them to bed on Doctor’s orders. 

They would both sleep happy, soundly. Julianus would dream of sweet nothings and their feet would stay warm all night with the weight of Marcius over them. Yet that wouldn’t last until the morning. Everyone slept in a little later than they did at Sea, only to be woken up with alarm from members of both crews announcing Inuwashi had crossed the waters of the Strait.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

They could’ve waited a couple days to pass, but the fear of not making it to Ethari on time was worse — Jules had no idea until then, but due to a couple of reasons beyond anyone’s control (namely the weather and some routes alterations) they were behind schedule and could not afford any more delays. It meant they’d head to risk going through the waters with its very, very angry sirens. 

This time, no crew song appeased them. The message was clear: anything or anyone they got their hands on would not see the surface again.

On the distant horizon, Julianus could see the outline of a ship. It looked tiny in the distance and by the way Meredith cursed in it’s direction, they assumed it must be Inuwashi. Meredith cursed again — it had begun to drizzle, and it looked like a storm was beginning to brew. 

Saoirse, for once, looked concerned. “Jacqui says Rodrigo exhausted his illusion magic, they’re too uncontrollable for him to properly cast anything on them.” 

To make matters worse, a ripple went through the water. With a violent halt, both of the ships stopped moving.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! If I could kill Syd, I fucking would!” Meredith yelled.

“I know,” was Saoirse’s serious reply. “But I don’t think that was Syd.”

“You’re seriously going to tell me that wasn’t Gharial or however the fuck they’re called?”

“No, it was, but Syd is not stupid enough to endanger you right before a Quinquennial Meeting without a loophole, and Gharial just likes getting Syd into trouble.”

“It doesn’t fucking change anything.”

It was chaos as everyone snapped into action to make the ships move again. The sooner they were all out of the Strait the better and by the turn of events it was going to be a long, tiring task. 

“Alright!” Meredith yelled, raising their voice so everyone listened to her. “Keep everyone from the railings and if you can move with a lifeline, do it. I want all of them secured! I will only say this once: if anyone falls, we will not be able to retrieve them so anyone with a range weapon — do whatever idiot that falls a favour if they do.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

What nothing told you about life or death experiences was how absolutely absurd they were. There were no big revelations, no reel of your life going before your eyes, no philosophical moments where the ulterior meaning of life was revealed to you. It was just you, and whomever else was with you in that moment, running around as survival instincts kicked in. As they did, the realisation that you might as well die came to you, and instead of thinking about everything you did not get to do, or everything you could’ve done differently, all you did was noticing really stupid details, about really stupid shit. 

Julianus didn’t need to wait to have another experience with death to know whomever said otherwise was fucking lying. 

Instead of thinking about anything that would’ve risen up to the dourness of the hour, they were thinking about their art teacher from Altazor, the one they had when they were in primary school and they had taken an art extracurricular. When they were around ten, they went through a phase where they only wanted to paint the sea. Their teacher had shown them a Neviv painter who painted ships and stormy seas, and Julianus had decided they only wanted to paint the sea from then on. 

The sky looked like the paints of that painter. Julianus couldn’t even remember the name of the painter.

They had stopped taking the extracurricular not long after that. Part of an ongoing issue they had associated with lack of confidence in their sense of self, and their struggle to keep habits. The former had to do with having been indirectly punished for their openness of self, which left them more vulnerable to other people’s opinions. A vulnerability they were never given proper tools to deal with. When they tried to find who they were in front of the world, too many factors had convinced them for years that who they were was inherently wrong. From mean peers to their own parents, or the expectations of their family, and no matter what image they projected, it all weighted them down. 

The other had to do with a long time undiagnosed hyperactivity and focus divergency. No one believed them about it until they took the matters in their own hands, because how could someone ‘as smart as them’ have it. It simply had to be laziness, or something other. They had been over this already, about how too many people had opinions on who Julianus Sanlaurento had to be, or was, without actually bothering to check who they actually were, or even given the chance. 

The other extracurricular that succumbed to all of that was magic. However, they had taken it up again in their last years of schooling before university, as they had in free hours they were left alone to their own devices. That halt in their studies had made them more knowledgeable in the history of it and the relationships different cultures had with it, than to the practice itself. It was one of the reasons why the Sea Palace had had no interest in them, besides the fact they thought (both Jules and the Scholars) they did not have any particularly differential ability in it. 

They never stopped practising it after that, even if they never mentioned to anyone, unless they were forced to. They had taken it up under a mentor again in Firent, where they took it as a university extracurricular with a magician who was adept to energy manipulation — electricity in particular. Jules had taken to it like fish to the water, even if, once again, they ended up using it for little. 

She always said plasma and electricity weren’t harder to manipulate than other types of matter. People tended to be more afraid to do it, because it required the magician to make themselves a receptor of that energy, and for a series of reasons, people did not seem comfortable with malleable matter that may or may not zap you. 

Somewhere to their right, Drew hissed. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, I just grabbed my knife and I got a static shock.”

Jules snapped out of their trace. “Swords work as conductors of electricity, right?” 

“What?”

“Like, you can catch electricity with a sword, can you not?”

Drew and Elizabeth looked at them with concern. Also, like perhaps, they had gone a little crazy. 

Theo, however, had their answers. “It’s metal, so in theory it would work. Though not all metals conduct the same way, but that’s the principle of a lightning rod… why do you ask?”

“If I do something that’s potentially really stupid, involves magic, and I technically know how to do but haven’t done it in years and never outside of the context of a classroom, do you promise to not let me fall into the water? I don’t actually want to die.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Julianus was either a genius, insane or terminally stupid. They were about to find out.

Storms had always been their favourite weather and they knew an electric storm had to be in the making. Sounds around them were too clear, humidity was annoyingly oppressive, there were no birds flying, Marcius was hiding under the covers of Saoirse’s bed (Jules double checked he was safe) and it smelled like a storm. 

Electric storms came with lightning. With the right magical knowledge, anyone could manipulate them. However, they needed to get to the Beak of the ship, and there was no way Saoirse would let them do that if it put them at the risk of falling into the water. El Corazón Sangrante, however, wasn’t that far away from the Ruby. It was a sensible jump, even by their poor eye-estimation of distance.

All they had to do was try. 

From the perspective of anyone else in the crew, this was what happened: Julianus used a rope from the rigging to jump from one ship to the other (a very bad experience, which they would not like to repeat). They told something to Jade, Rodrigo’s sailing master, and for some reason, Jade agreed to it. Perhaps, she was as desperate as everyone else to get out of the strait. Meredith, still on the Ruby yelled-asked who let Sanlaurento do such a thing. Saoirse looked at them with confusion as they ran with the rapier they had gotten for them during a raid in hand; said confusion turned into dread when they realised what part of the ship they were running towards. 

The panic they felt when they saw them climb past the forecastle and onto the very narrow surface to stand before the bowsprit began, threatened to dissolve the body they chose to use every day. They ran towards the bow of the Ruby, ready to jump into the water if they needed.

“Julie!” They yelled, trying to make them turn, but it was like they didn’t listen.

A thunder broke behind them as they lifted a leg over the railing. That’s when they saw it. With both arms extended, their sword on the left hand pointing towards the sky, a lightning strike hit Julianus. 

Jules condensed it in their free hand as it sizzled and crackled without harming their skin. Angling themselves, they threw it into the water, hitting one of the sirens straight on the chest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Having to face the Siren songs that close to the water was, perhaps, one of the worst life experiences Jules had ever gone through. It was something about their rabid eyes and the promises they sang of.

They could see them, almost. They could see themselves in it. A model child, a partner, two children and a pet. A stable job. A good relationship with their mother. Esteem and respect from the social circle they had grown in at the expense of nothing. The sirens sang and they went to a different school, they had different tastes, they had more knowledge, a better capacity to concentrate, a different career, they were more athletic. They were immaculately perfect, always pleasing everyone and always knowing the right thing to say. Whomever that abomination the Sirens sang about was, it wasn’t Jules.

They could see why. They could see how they would twist their fear of never being enough, their fear of being utterly mediocre, against them. They could see how they took that away, and left a perfectly sanitised carcass that, in a lower point of their life, they would’ve given into. 

The wind played with their hair as they felt one thing, and one thing alone: rage. 

Their frown was set as they began feeling static build around them and with steady breaths they stood in posture. They lifted their sword as their angry, teary eyes met with the fishy ones of the sirens in the water. It wasn’t about being stronger than them or more powerful than them. Neither was the case: They were just Jules. 

Just Jules. Poetic, hopeful, intelligent, strong-willed, imperfect, full of love and terrified to give it, yet determined to plant the garden of their life no matter how many times it was destroyed. Jules who was full of grief, and full of happiness, and Jules who knew they would never have the life that was promised to them, because that life required of them something they would never be able to be without sacrificing who they truly were. 

It was okay. It was okay not to have that life and not to be that person. Whoever they were now was better anyway. 

Lightning struck their sword. They knew what to do. 

When the Sirens went quiet, numbed by the electric sock, they slid their back against the wood of the ship. Hanging on some rope and their sword for dear life they sat down with their head between their legs. 

Saoirse found them moments later, pulling them up and carrying them back to Meredith’s ship in their arms. 

“I can walk you know, I’m just a little dizzy.”

Saoirse didn’t put them down. “Were you going to tell me you could manipulate lightning, or was I supposed to find out this way?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant to mention. Did it work?”

They let out a noise of annoyance. “Yes, yes it worked. But if you want to do that again, it’d be better you practised. You could’ve fallen into the sea, you could’ve—”

“But I didn’t. I’m here, Saoirse.”

They shot them a look, but the relief that it worked, and the wonder that their Julie could do such a thing won this time. They kissed the crown of their head. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“I mean it. Let’s get you some water and something to eat.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, I really am.”

Saoirse sighed. “You’re forgiven. You did great.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Beyond the Strait of Seals, Captain Syd of the Inuwashi looked at the lightning strike back in the waters of the Strait. Hideko stood besides them. 

“I didn’t know Saoirse could do that.”

Heron spoke behind her. “Are we sure that’s Saoirse?”

“Well, colour me surprised Cabin Boy, I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

[sprnklersplashes]

driver’s license

post-canon, angst ahoy

She gets her driver’s licence on Saturday.

On Sunday morning, she takes her first drive alone, and it’s to the last place she should go.

The roads are empty, the rest of Sherwood sensibly asleep in their beds. Last night was another sleepless one, bolting up in her bed with her hands clamped over her mouth and her whole body trembling violently, not stopping until she had paced the length and breadth of her bedroom about fifty times. She was wide awake by that point, too shaken by her nightmares to even try to go back to sleep. She sat against the window, head against the wall, watching her breath fogging up the glass, obscuring the perfect picture on the other side.

He was there, of course. He’s always here in the morning, especially when she wakes up like this. She didn’t turn around, didn’t see him, but felt the weight of his gaze on her anyway. Pleading, lonely, begging her to turn around and come back to him. To slip into his arms and get lost in his words again, to let him strip her away with his touch. And the worst part is that she wanted to. She wanted to do it; there’s some magnetic force that still sits in her and it keeps pulling her towards JD even though she knows he’s gone. It becomes a game two of them play and she loses every single time; if she resists, it hurts, and if she gives in… she doesn’t know, she never has, but it can’t end up good.

Her keys were in her hand before she even knew what she was doing, and she was pulling out of the driveway as the sun rises.

She’s not dressed for a drive; a pair of black pyjama bottoms and an old, old blue sweater. It’s one of the things from before she was a Heather and most importantly-something JD had never seen her in. That’s one of the worst things about this, about him. His fingerprints aren’t just over her body, but all over her clothes too. Invisible to everyone except her. Lines run up and down her blazers where he caressed her, the outline of his hand on her skirt where he ripped it off her body. When she first saw him, she thought ‘now there’s a person I’m never going to forget’. Now she’d give anything for that to be wrong.

She doesn’t think she knows where she’s going, not until she turns right at one junction and feels her blood run cold. It’s funny, she thinks. She hasn’t been here in months and yet it still looks exactly the same. She avoided this place like the plague afterwards. She still could. There’s no-one here and no-one checks the traffic cameras here, not in a street like this. She could turn around and head in the other direction, and she should. But the wheels keep turning, slow but still forwards, and her hands stay locked where they are. The steering wheel barely budges.

She must have been on this street before him. She’s lived in this town her whole life and could draw out a map from memory. It’s not that big after all. She has vague recollections of a birthday party happening somewhere around here, and another of a family barbeque on this street. She trick or treated a few times here as well, first with her parents and then with Martha. But all those are irrelevant now. From here on out this will be known as JD’s street and JD’s street only.

She pulls the car into a sloppy park, thankful for the cautious residents keeping their cars in garages, and leans back in her seat. She doesn’t need to turn that much to see the house beside her.

There’s a new family that lives there now. A mom and dad and two elementary school kids. Both girls. One with dark curly hair in pigtails and the other with a black ponytail, secured with a ribbon. She had watched them the first day they moved in, laughing together, the dad tugging on the girls’ pigtails, the mom organising the move in. What must it be like inside now, with boxes unpacked and furniture sitting proudly. A home, not just a house. A place big enough for all of them. It must have been excited, to have so many of its rooms used.

That’s what struck Veronica when she first went over with him. How big it was, for a family of two. She shakes her head. You could hardly call JD and his father a “family”. Not because of their size, but because of them. They were barely even acquaintances. They merely lived under the same roof and shared the same blood; that was the beginning and end of their relationship. Veronica had wondered why Big Bud Dean had chosen this house, how much it must have cost him, and it was only a week or so ago she had realised; he didn’t care. Why would he, when he’d just leave in the next three months anyway? He picked the first available place, and it just so happened to be a family home.

She had watched him leaving. She swears to herself she isn’t a stalker, but she’s finding that harder and harder to believe. What would you call someone who goes through hoops to find out the day and hour a man is moving out of his house and then skips school just to stand on the street and watch him? What must he think of her, that is, if he even noticed her at all. Too busy wrapped up in himself to notice other people, that’s what JD always said about his father. There’s not a lot she agrees with JD on, but she has to give him that.

She pulls her sweater tighter around herself and blinks, her eyes suddenly stinging and blurry. The last time she went over there, really went over there, rather than hovering on the other side of the street, was the day it happened. She had walked up to that door with ash in her hair and blood on her face, and knocked three times before he had answered. He regarded her with this cool, confused glance, as though he was trying to remember when he had seen her before, and she had bitten her tongue and watched as realisation dawned on his face.

“You’re Jason’s girl, aren’t you?” he had asked. That was the first time she had heard him say his son’s name, she realised. Their little game must end whenever JD wasn’t around. He took a long drink of his beer then and shrugged at her. “Whaddya want?”

Her nails had dug into her palms, leaving burning red marks, and she just about manged to say “your son’s dead” through her tight throat, tears plink-plonking down her face.

He blinked at her, a moment passed, and then another, before he let out an unimpressed-sounding “really?”.

She does wonder what would have happened if Heather Duke hadn’t stumbled upon her at that moment and dragged her away from him, kicking and screaming and swearing all the way down. She pulls her sweater tighter around her. Her throat hurts at the memory. The entire street had come out to see the commotion and what little good standing she still had blew away like dust. Good, straight-A, Harvard bound Veronica had screamed “go fuck yourself” at a seemingly innocent man who just lost his son.

She doesn’t regret it though.

The first hues of blue appear around the edges of the sky now, but according to her clock it’s still far too early for her parents to be up. Her body goes limp in the seat, her head falling to the side, and her eyes flicker up to the window on the second-floor window. On the day they moved in, she saw the light go on in that bedroom and the pink paint going up on the walls. One of the young girls is using it as her room now, and she almost laughs. She plays with her dolls, no idea what two stupid kids did in there, oblivious to how he had pinned her against that wall and she had stripped him down, shivering as he whispered “you’re mine” in her ear.

Or about the soft, stolen kisses they shared on his bed at night, the two of them lying on his bed, their eyes on the ceiling, and talking about the future. Their future, he had said. Where she would go to college and where he would go. Where they should move to, because Veronica was adamant she wasn’t staying in Sherwood forever. And when they’d get their driver’s licences.

“I want mine as soon as I can,” she had told him. “I’ve been dreaming about it since forever. I’ve practiced in my dad’s car.”

“I was wondering how that dent got there,” he had said. She elbowed him in the ribs for that comment. “Suppose I don’t need to. I have my bike.”

“You have a licence for that thing, right?” She turned to him then, studying his profile and feeling a lingering sense of doubt in the back of her mind. That feeling always accompanied them wherever they went, like the hangover to the ecstasy his touch brought. “JD?”

“Course I do, Ronnie,” he had told her, and he pulled her against his chest. “You think I’d take my favourite girl on a bike if I didn’t have a licence for it?”

His favourite girl. He didn’t call her that a lot, maybe once or twice in their entire short-lived relationship, but damn did she love it. He was like that. Good at making her feel special. Like she was made of something precious. Diamonds in her eyes, gold in her veins. To him, she was better than every other girl around and she’s so, so ashamed of the fact that she liked that.

But how much did he really value her in the end?    

She slams her hand on the dashboard, hard, and cries out as the dull pain pulses beneath her skin. Tears run down her face, replacing those from earlier this morning. Those haven’t yet dried. She tucks her knees up against her chest, burying her face in them so that the sound of her cries is muffled. She doesn’t know why; not like anyone is awake at this point to be disturbed by a stupid girl like her crying in her car.

He swore he loved her. Over and over again and you’d think that the words would wear themselves out but they never did. They just kept getting bigger and he kept burning hotter and brighter until he scorched her hands when she tried to touch him. He had whispered it reverently into her hair as she slept and murmured it against her lips and even in that house, with the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her, he said it. That was the moment she realised it wasn’t true. Somewhere amongst the pain and the confusion and the splitting headache she looked at him, and she looked at the gun, and asked herself, how could his lips say he loves her while his hand is ready to kill her? Not that he needed a gun to kill her. Maybe he knew that, and so the gun was just to play with her.

He had promised her. That’s the part that hurts more than anything else. The promise he broke, and how he used those jagged edges to cut her open. He promised her he was going to change, swore to her on the love he claimed was God. JD was nothing if not passionate, and for all she knew he meant that at the time. Or maybe he didn’t, and it was all just a game to him. It’s been so long now and it’s still so hard to tell.

She sobs again, a heavy pain tugging on her torn-apart heart. She’s an idiot, and a fool, and a fucking moron and every other damn thing Heather Chandler has called her these past months. Not that she had much of a backbone before but now she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed at her. Because it’s true. Because what kind of person lives through all that, lives through JD and all manipulation and all his lies, and watches as he points a gun at her with nothing but coldness in his eyes, and is still in love with him after that? How does she spring awake from nightmares in the morning and spend the afternoon missing the feeling of his lips against hers? If she loves JD, despite everything he was, then what kind of person does that make her? What gives her the right to lie awake at night and mourn the future she would never have, when three people are cold in their graves because of him?

Her hand finds its way to the glove compartment and suddenly the little plastic card is in her hand, her eyes staring up at her. No-one has commented on it but surely everyone sees it; the look in her eyes that’s hung around ever since that day. She flinches sometimes, when she sees herself in the mirror. What’s become of her; thin, hollow cheeks and shadows beneath her dull, dead eyes, clothes hanging off her shoulders. JD didn’t just end his life when he took that bomb. She might still be breathing, but most days it feels like that’s all she’s doing.

She slams her hand on the dashboard again, and then it happens again, and again and again until she’s banging against it in a fierce, fast rhythm, her mouth open and a burning, broken scream pouring out of it. It tears out of her throt and fills the car, shaking the glass in the windows and ringing in her ears. This isn’t how it was supposed to have happened. She was supposed to run out of the DMV and into his waiting arms, have her feet swept off the ground as he tells her how proud he is of her. She was supposed to drive through the streets with him in the passenger’s seat, sneaking sideways glances at him as the wind tousled his hair. They were supposed to drive up to the hill together and sit over the town, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her, making more stupid plans for the future. She was meant to tease him about getting her licence first and he was meant to roll his eyes and kiss her to shut up her up. He should have been something else, and she should be waking up with butterflies in her stomach rather than lead in her lungs.

She sits back and shakes her head at herself. Her hand is red and pulsing with pain from where she smacked it. She’s ridiculous. Since when does she have the right to decide what was ‘meant’ to happen? JD thought that. He declared it on the other side of her closet door- “I was meant to be yours, we were meant to be one”. As far as he was concerned, the universe is, was, theirs, and they were the masters over what happened in it. And she’s not that person, she’s dragging herself away from being that person every day, even if it means her nails are caked with blood and dirt. She doesn’t get to choose what happens, not or herself or anyone, and she doesn’t get to sit here and claim what that he should have been something different.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.  

Her mom told her she’d love someone again, a few weeks after the pep rally when she was in a particularly bad state of mind. She had sat on the edge of her bed and run her fingers through her hair and told her that he might have been the first, but he wouldn’t be the last. Her heart won’t be broken forever. She had nodded and murmured something in agreement, and waited until her mom smiled and patted her head before she left. What her mom doesn’t know is that JD didn’t break her heart-he put a bomb in it and blew it up. And whatever she felt for him, there’ll be no feeling it for anyone ever again.

She looks back over at the house. There’s a light on in the kitchen and she slides lower in the seat, despite being safe from view already. Who could it be? The dad maybe, or the mom, getting ready for the day ahead, or maybe one of the kids catching the morning cartoons or treating themselves to cookies for breakfast. It doesn’t really matter, what matters is they’re in that house now and neither Jason nor Big Bud Dean are. For better or worse, there’s no trace of him left in Sherwood, Ohio, not except her memories and one page in the yearbook. One day she’ll make peace with that fact.

She turns the key in the ignition and the car rumbles into life again, annoyed after being neglected for so long. She lets out a long, steady breath, the last of her tears running down her face like rain down her windshield. She turns the wheel, peels away from the kerb, and hopes she’ll never come back to this street for as long as she lives. She doesn’t know if her heart can take it again.

[100hearteyes]

Clexa Week 2020 - Day 7 - Free Day

(thank you @butmakeitgayblog for beta'ing and cheering me on 🙌 and @dreamsaremywords for helping me avoid the pitchforks and torches)

Read it on AO3.

–

Eventide

“Your Majesty?”

A queen did not start.

A queen did not get distracted while being courted by a handsome foreign duke, either, but Clarke had never been quite like her peers, for better and for worse.

She dragged her gaze from the horizon line and met the kind eyes of Duke Finneas; a boy who meant well but could never be her equal match.

Perhaps he too meant well. Though Clarke’s heart yearned for the kind of devotion he would give, her brain craved a wicked mind like hers. Someone just as brilliant and terrible as her.

Someone else.

“You are distracted today.”

He said it kindly, amusement clear in his voice, and Clarke hated him for it. Still she bowed her head, as she should, and blushed like the besotted girl she was supposed to be.

“My apologies, Finn.” He preened at hearing the sound of his nickname, as he had asked her to call him by it countless times before. “I sent the best of my Queensguard to the border and they are expected to return today. I can barely wait to hear whatever news they bring me. And I am… naturally worried about their safety.”

He smiled softly at her. “Few would be so concerned about the lives of those who are sworn to protect them. You have a noble heart, my queen.”

The irony almost made her smile.

--

The Captain of the Queensguard knelt before her, head bowed and a fist closed upon the left breastplate of ornate, light grey armor.

“As I am sure you remember, Your Majesty, your cousin, Earl Aden, lost both his parents to the harsh bite of winter this year. He has requested to spend the next winter with you, so as to avoid further tragedy.”

Clarke nodded, thinking fondly of the boy with unruly blonde curls and a gentle smile. “I shall make arrangements in that regard. Is there anything else?”

“Your Majesty, the rest of the information I bring you,” distrustful eyes landed on Prince Finneas, “is meant for your ears only.”

Clarke did her best not to roll her eyes. The Captain of her Queensguard was extraordinarily competent, dedicated, and brave, but had a drastic tendency to be dramatic. There was no need for such showmanship, yet the Captain seemed intent on fanning out feathers and strutting back and forth like a peacock.

“If you say so, Captain,” she conceded at last. “Would you care to accompany me to the balcony?”

The Captain stood up and the two of them strolled past the thick curtains that separated the throne room from a balcony that oversaw acres upon acres of beautiful, green fields and thick forests.

Clarke walked up to the railing, resting both her hands on it. At times like this, it was soothing to feel the rough stone under her palms, scraping at the fair skin.

It grounded her.

She steeled herself as she felt the Captain sidle in next to her.

“Did you have a safe trip home?”

Clarke felt more than she saw the Captain nod next to her. She hadn’t expected any different. When she glanced at the elegant figure next to her, she found the Captain’s gaze trained on the horizon.

“What sensitive information is this that you requested a private audience?”

Green eyes finally met her own, dancing with mischief and something else tender and forbidden. “Everything was in order while we were there.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “So you wasted your queen’s precious time to tell her everything is exactly as it should be?”

The sky was painted in broad, reckless strokes of pink and purple, and the sun had started to hide behind the skyline. The moon would soon take its place on the throne with the stars as her witness.

“I would not go so far as to say it was a waste of time.” The Captain’s tone was teasing, but laced with fondness. “I gave you the chance to see the sunset, I know how much you like it.”

Clarke liked the night best. It was at night that stolen moments were a solution rather than a problem and sneaking, when the palace was cold and silent, didn’t feel so scandalous anymore. Sunsets were the promise of night. A promise that just for a few hours, she could take the crown off her head, leave the corset on the bed, and be just Clarke. The girl in love with another girl.

“Your absence was felt.”

Lexa’s lips twisted minutely. When she spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “Be careful, my Queen. The walls have ears.”

The Captain’s cautious words were betrayed by the tips of long fingers brushing against Clarke’s on the balcony rail.

Their hands were concealed by coats and dresses, but Lexa’s touch was featherlight nonetheless. It still gave Clarke pause; her entire body’s focus was on the points where their skin came into contact and her heart was a fist banging at the doors of her chest. It wanted out, as it always had; it yearned to flee its golden cage and tell the secrets the walls around them would have killed to hear.

“The stars have eyes, too.”

“Luckily, they haven’t mouths to tell a secret.”

Lexa’s words may have been meant to be soothing, but they awakened Clarke’s mind. They reminded her of the boy in the throne room, of long walks along the palace gardens and the crown atop her head.

“Duke Finneas of Traisson will be staying at the palace for a few weeks. He has stated his intention to court me.”

It was only because she was so attuned to Lexa’s touch that Clarke felt the sudden absence of delicate fingers against her own, so light had the pressure been to begin with. Nevertheless, it felt like a stab to her chest. The world around her dimmed, colors became duller. Clarke felt trapped in a world in tones of grey.

“He took me to the orchards. It seems to be a popular spot for courtship.”

“What makes you say that?”

“We found this… carving on a tree. Very queer.” A smile played at the edge of her lips, teasing at more carefree times. She found it mirrored in the Captain’s clever eyes. “Couples ought to be more discreet, don’t you think?”

“They ought to.”

--

“Can a queen ever marry for love?”

The bench they sat on, made of stone only, wasn’t the most comfortable to perch on. However, the way the moonlight slanted and made the orchards look like a pathway to heaven more than compensated for a stiff behind. When she turned and saw how Lexa’s features looked in the same light — cheekbones sharper, lips fuller and eyes prettier than she had ever seen them —, Clarke realized she could spend days sitting on that bench, never moving.

Lexa looked like those otherworldly spirits mythology books told tales about, so impossibly, painfully beautiful one may turn to stone just from looking into her eyes. Clarke would’ve taken that risk. She would’ve dared never moving again for just one chance to bask in the glow of Lexa’s eyes. For all of the Captain’s aloofness and penchant for speaking as few words as possible, her eyes spoke loudest than any Clarke had ever seen. Their expressiveness… The way they could never hide what Lexa was feeling… Clarke had tried to replicate them on paper countless times, only to come up short. She’d usually get the shape, the lights, and the shadows right, but— something in those eyes was simply unrepeatable.

Human hands couldn’t recreate it. Lexa had been shaped by the gods, and her eyes were the map to eternity.

And Clarke was always oh so close to unlocking the secret, to reaching the summit, but something always pushed her off a cliff and sent her hurtling back to the ground.

“Love is weakness, Your Majesty.”

Clarke was used to the impact. It didn’t hurt any less. Still, she stood, then and again, and braced herself for the climb. One day she would make it to the top.

“And civilizations are fickle. History is ephemeral. We live and die and whatever mark we leave on this world can easily be erased by war and pillage. Love is forever.”

“It lasts only as long as those who feel it.”

“No,” she countered, stubborn as ever. “It lasts longer. Love is immaterial, it lingers in the air around us, beneath our breaths and through this life and the next. Castles and parchment stay here until someone burns them. Love travels with us to the afterlife.”

Lexa stood up without a word and waited for Clarke to do the same, before taking off on a brisk pace towards the castle.

Catching up to Lexa was neither easy nor dignified, but Clarke eventually fell into step with the Captain, who took pity on her and slowed her pace to a languid stroll. Now going at an appropriate pace for a queen, Clarke took her chance to admire the trees around her, with ripe fruit hanging from thin branches and pulling them towards the ground.

No matter the heights one reached, gravity always did its bidding and pulled one back to earth. Clarke felt its effect now. She had reached for the stars once and been pulled so violently back she’d lost her footing. Then again, and again, and again. Every time, Lexa was there to catch her fall. And Clarke would swear the earth had turned upside down, it had to have, for Lexa was the very stars she had been trying to grasp.

How lucky she was, to touch the stars without having to lift her feet off the ground.

It had only been much later in life, when she’d been told to find a husband or doom her kingdom to ruin, that Clarke had realized just how cruel it all really was — the stars would always be within her reach but she would never be able to catch them.

Why love a star if you cannot have her heart?

As they neared the edge, Lexa halted, eyes locked on a tree in one of the final rows. Clarke followed her gaze and felt her lips sketch an outline of a smile.

Feeling reckless, Clarke followed a short, but uneven trail towards the tree and laid a hand on the rough bark. Her palm grazed the bumps and ridges of an age old carving and she read the words without seeing them.

L + C

Feelings cut into wood a lifetime ago, indelible as they were immutable, able to endure generations for the robustness of their canvas. Only human hands could erase them; only human words could disprove them.

Clarke felt Lexa’s presence behind her and turned around, her hand never leaving its home. They shared a secret smile, although Lexa’s was somber as her eyes swept over the entire orchard. One of many trees. As if it ever fell, it could be replaced with another. The earth it drank from and gave its strength to, however, could not.

Clarke knew the knife was coming before it embedded itself in her heart.

“If we are to be judged at the gates to heaven,” Lexa started, voice not quite trembling, though thin and weighed down by regret, “let it be because I failed my heart rather than the people I am sworn to protect, above all you.”

Clarke knew that song from heart. Lexa would’ve died before being selfish and taking something, or someone, for herself. And Clarke would’ve given her the world, yet she couldn’t afford to relinquish the political hold on her own heart.

Clarke and Lexa held the axe in their hands and little by little they were chipping away at the trunk. Human hands and human words.

Lexa turned around, ready to return to the palace. She stopped only at the sound of Clarke’s voice, scraping like sharp claws against the walls of her throat. “One day they will weigh my heart and find it heavy with sin and regret. None greater than for allowing the world to convince me to let go of you.”

--

“Duke Finneas proposed today.”

Clarke could see Lexa stiffen despite the dim light. The Captain turned on her heels and approached the window, laying a quivering hand on the parapet, back turned to her sovereign.

It was unusual for the Queen to visit her Captain’s quarters. The rumor mill surely would’ve started running the moment Clarke stepped inside Lexa’s chambers if not for the circumstances they found themselves in.

Lexa’s room was as Spartan as could be in a royal palace. Moonlight shrouded it in mystery, much as it did its owner’s expression, whose features were unreadable from ten feet away.

Words weren’t a clue, either, when spoken blankly. “Have you given him an answer?”

Clarke desperately wanted to let the ensuing silence speak for her, but she knew she owed Lexa a proper answer. She, who helped take down their tree, should swing the axe.

“I said yes.”

For a moment, Clarke thought she saw Lexa’s knees buckle and she might collapse. However, the Captain stood tall and brave, and Clarke admired her so for her stalwart asceticism.

“I see.” Lexa’s voice was brittle, no more than a murmur, and it was only the grim silence that carried it to Clarke and cut her with it.

Clarke bled, and with the pain came resolve. She took a step forward, then another, and a third. A deep breath later, she’d gathered the courage to take the leap.

“It’s my last night of freedom. We could finally—”

“No,” Lexa interrupted, turning to face her.

The Captain’s tone left no room for discussion, but Clarke had never been one to be content with the space she was assigned. She felt the need to push the walls, expand the perimeter and win back the room she had been denied.

So she stepped closer even, broaching Lexa’s personal space. “I cannot fathom a world where I don’t know the taste of your lips.”

Lexa’s eyes shone with agony, as though Clarke had struck a dagger to her gut and was twisting, and twisting, and twisting. They were mere inches asunder, so close Clarke could feel Lexa’s shallow breath on her cheek. She couldn’t remember a time there had been less than the width of her crown between them.

“You can’t say things like that, Clarke. Not when—”

Lexa reached for Clarke’s face, but froze before allowing herself to touch. Her hand hovered, fingers yearning and twitching minutely above a pale cheek. “I shan’t let you disgrace yourself for me.”

Clarke closed her eyes, sighing, mustering the courage to lean away from Lexa’s absent touch and speak the words that lingered in the back of her mind since she’d said yes.

“Then I am letting you go.”

Lexa lowered her hand as though she’d been burned, but made no other motion to draw back. She remained steadfast as Clarke watched the questions flit across her eyes, all of them going unasked.

All but one.

“Why?”

Clarke swallowed, though it did nothing to untie the knot in her throat. “I am setting you free,” she husked, resisting the ever-present urge to take Lexa’s hands in hers. “I can find another captain, someone you would recommend. Just… Please go, Lexa. Find someone else. Love someone else. Be happy.”

This time, Lexa recoiled, face twisting with resentment. She would have looked less affronted had Clarke slapped her.

For once, Clarke wished the stars would bear witness to one of their trysts and grow mouths to yell at Lexa to go and never look back — to love someone else, anyone else. Someone who would not chain her to a love story without closure.

No great epopee ever ended with a broken heart.

“I will not leave, Clarke. I shall stay and see you married and love you like the day I carved my soul into a tree.” Lexa took a step towards her, closing the rift she’d created moments ago. Clarke counted the lashes resting on the elegant bow of her cheeks, long and dark and thick like the night that hid them from prying eyes and outstretched ears. Lexa’s lips were parted and Clarke would have given her kingdom to be able to brush a finger over the bottom one; to feel the supple flesh give under her thumb. Longing green eyes danced between Clarke’s own and dropped to her lips for just a moment, before once again plunging into pools of midday sky blue. “Who I love is not my choice to make. My heart has never been my own, Clarke. I believe you’ve held it in your hands since long before we were even born into this life.”

No great tragedy ever ended with a smile.

--

Clarke was dressed in white and gold when the letter arrived.

Amongst a thousand apologies, Finneas relayed about how he had fallen in love with one of her ladies in waiting and decided to run away with her before the wedding. Clarke would have felt humiliated, if she’d cared for anything except the way her heart sang for joy.

She was free.

Clarke all but ran up stairs and down corridors, towards the hall where she knew her most faithful soldier stood waiting and suffering, withering under the weight of their most dreaded day.

There Clarke found her Captain, and something about her (perhaps the light shining in from the window and setting her hair on fire or the way her eyes widened with concern when Clarke barged through the heavy double doors; maybe it was simply that freedom made everything look twice as beautiful) almost propelled Clarke to start crying a river at the mere sight of her.

So focused was she on the object of her adoration, Clarke didn’t register everyone else filing out of the room at the flick of the Captain’s wrist. It was but a coincidence that the moment the door closed behind the last intruder, Clarke fell to her knees at Lexa’s feet, taking flummoxed hands between her own. Her fingers trembled, but she had never felt so steady.

“He’s gone. He ran away with one of my maids.”

The stricken look on Lexa’s face — the tragic, mechanized selflessness — made Clarke love her just that little bit more. “Your Highness, I am so sor—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence, Captain, for I am not.”

Clarke brought Lexa’s hands to her lips and kissed the knuckles one by one, tasting the salt of her own tears. When she looked back up, she found them mirrored in Lexa’s eyes. “What will you do now?”

The question yanked a laugh from Clarke, wet with tears and husky with bliss. She brushed a kiss to long fingers and held Lexa’s burning gaze, unfaltering.

“I swear myself to you, my love,” she whispered reverently. “My heart is your heart, my soul is your soul. My life is now yours. I needn’t a ring to speak my vows.”

“Clarke, you can't—”

“I can,” she stated, pushing to her feet, “and I will. Let the people know I’m no less of a queen without a man at my side.”

If anything, she would have been less of a queen for not being brave enough to follow her heart, Clarke decided. How could she be expected to make hard decisions for her people if she couldn’t make them for herself?

“What about the throne, Clarke? Your kingdom needs an heir, or else it will be at the mercy of its enemies,” Lexa insisted, raising mountains across the road of Clarke’s dreams. “I will not accept that.”

Clarke’s will knew no boundaries or chokeholds however, and she’d weave roads around mountains and over precipices to meet her goals. This time, with or without witnesses, and despite the slumber of all stars but one, Clarke would finally make promises she could keep.

“I plan to train Aden to be king and appoint him as my heir. He will carry on the bloodline and keep the crown from falling into the wrong hands.”

She knew Lexa had a soft spot for the young Earl and would gladly help her broaden his shoulders enough to trust upon them the burden of sovereignty. Meanwhile, Clarke would be so powerful and so ruthless none would dare question the absence of a king consort. Human hands and human words bore the power to devastate, but also to mend what was broken and etch new life into faded vows.

She looked out the window; the sun was setting, hanging new oaths on the sky and yielding up its holy perch for the moon to take. Sunsets held the promise of tonight, when a lifetime’s worth of dreams could finally become true.

Lexa’s voice pulled her focus back to the present. “If this worked… How would I fit into it?”

Clarke had always been bravest at eventide.

With hands that no longer hovered, she grabbed the back of Lexa’s neck and reeled her in for a kiss.

[starswallowingsea]

The Same Stars in the Sky

Vivi and Kohza looked up to the sky and made pictures in the stars together. Even while they were apart, they knew the stars in the sky were the same. 

MERRY CHRISTMAS @vannahfanfics ! I kinda took your “Vivi and Kohza go stargazing at an oasis” idea and put my own spin on it so I hope you like it ^.^ Also tagging @op-secret-santa-2020 

Fandom: One Piece

Characters: Vivi, Kohza, Mr. 9 (briefly) 

Word Count: 1721 

---

“Alright, that’s all for tonight guys,” Kohza said, standing at the front of the group. “We’ll meet again next week, but hopefully it won’t go as long, haha.” 

The other children got up and cheered before leaving. 

“That was a lot of fun,” Vivi said, turning to Kohza. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, but it is getting late. Won’t your dad be mad at me for keeping you out so late?” 

“Maybe a little bit, but he can’t control me!” Vivi exclaimed, throwing a fist in the air. 

Vivi held the pose for a brief second before sitting down. 

“I never realized how pretty the sky is away from the city,” she said. 

“Yeah? Do you know any constellations?” 

“Hmm… Igaram showed me a few on some old maps, but I haven’t tried finding them in the sky yet.” 

Kohza sat down besides her and pointed to the sky. “That’s the Big Dipper right there.” 

“There?” Vivi responded, tracing an outline of stars. 

“Yeah, there. And this one is Ursa Major, the big bear.” 

“I don’t really see it. Are you sure it’s a bear?” 

“Well I didn’t make the constellations!” 

“Who did?” 

“Why do you think I know?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Hmm... is this a constellation?” Vivi said after a moment of silence, connecting a few stars with her finger. 

“I don’t know. What do you think it would be called?” 

“I think it should be called...the Palm Tree!” 

“What kind of name is that? We already have palm trees all around us.” 

“I think it looks kinda like a cactus with a bird on it…” 

“Ah...uh, it’s a great name for a constellation! I think this one,” Kohza pointed up at a group of stars, “should be called the Igaram.” 

Vivi snorted. It did kind of look like Igaram’s hair curls. 

“Uhm...this one is a rain cloud!” 

“A rain cloud?” 

“Look…” 

“I’m just kidding, I think it looks like a cloud too.” 

“This is kinda like looking at clouds I think.” 

“Like making shapes out of them?” 

“Yeah! It’s fun, too.” 

Kohza smiled and lay down on the ground. “It is fun, especially with you,” he said, voice trailing off at the end. 

“What’d you say?” Vivi said, looking down at him. 

“Ah, nothing. Why don’t you lay down too? The view is better from here.” 

Vivi looked back up at the sky and leaned back too. They stayed like that for a while, occasionally pointing out constellations they made up before falling asleep in the sand. 

--- 

It was a slow day at Whiskey Peak for Vivi. They had rationed out the food the best they could, but they would have to get more soon. Their boss didn’t particularly care that much for making sure his agents survived, that was for sure. It was a wonder people still followed him despite these conditions, but the promise of Utopia could make people overlook a lot of things, she supposed. 

She needed some fresh air and time to herself, though. So she went and sat outside the tavern on a small rock. The sky was clear tonight and the stars were shining brightly, blissfully unaware of what was going on below them. 

This was a rare moment of peace and quiet for Vivi and she allowed her mind to wander. It had been over a year since she and Igaram had infiltrated Baroque Works and they had managed to rise through the ranks very quickly. Unfortunately, they were separated for a time, with Vivi being partnered with Mr. 9 and Igaram with Miss Monday. But now they were back together, working to keep Whiskey Peak under control and steal resources from pirates who didn’t know what they were doing. 

Before they left, though, she hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to her friends in the Sand-Sand clan. The knowledge that they thought she had gone missing a year ago and was unable to be found anywhere in Alabasta haunted her, but she couldn’t tell them what she was doing. She had to keep them safe at all costs, and the more people who knew about her mission, the more in danger she could be if someone leaked that she was spying in an underground organization. 

Her mind drifted further to Kohza, who was undoubtedly the most heartbroken by her disappearance. She thought back to all those nights they spent in the desert, pointing out constellations in the night sky and laughing. Vivi looked up and tried to find some of the constellations that they had made. There was one that looked like Igaram somewhere… 

--- 

“Miss Wednesday, are you okay?” someone asked behind her. 

Vivi was startled by the sudden noise and almost fell off the rock she was sitting in. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I was just taking a break before going to bed is all,” she said. 

“It’s been a long day, huh. Well don’t worry, tomorrow we’ll go and find more supplies and you can catch up on your sleep. I know it’s hard to get a good night’s rest in these beds but we have to make do for now.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said with a small chuckle. “Let’s get some rest. We have another long day ahead of us.” 

Vivi turned around one last time and looked up at the stars. 

Goodnight, Kohza, Papa, everyone. I’ll be home soon… 

--- 

“...and we’ll need to send scouts for supply runs at some point. We’re running low on food and morale.” 

“Understood. I’ll go out myself in the morning and see what I can find.” 

“Are you sure? There’s no way you’ll be able to carry enough supplies for everyone on your own.” 

“I’ll find someone to come with me on my way out, don’t worry.” 

Kohza laid his head on the table as the other revolutionaries walked out of the tent to update their subordinates on the situation. Things weren’t looking good for them and he wasn’t sure what to do. His best friend had gone missing over a year ago, right around the time that things went to shit. He couldn’t help but wonder if what happened to Vivi was related to everything else that was going on. 

He let out a sigh and stood up again. He needed to get some fresh air before tomorrow, and maybe it would help clear his head. Kohza pushed aside the tent flap and walked for a little while before finding a suitable rock to sit and stargaze on. Looking at the stars was one of the few things that grounded him these days. He could reminisce on his times with Vivi making constellations in the sky and laughing without a care in the world. 

“I hope you’re okay, if you’re out there, Vivi,” he mumbled under his breath. He had to hold onto hope that she was alive, even if all signs pointed to her being dead. When she suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night at age 14, Kohza felt broken. Nobody knew what was going on and a huge search across the country began, but nothing turned up. 

But deep in his heart, he knew she was alive somewhere, looking up at the same stars he was. 

---

A year later, after a long and hard fight against Baroque Works and trying to prevent a civil war, Vivi finally felt like she could relax. She sank down into her bed after saying goodbyes to the Straw Hats and even though it was the middle of the day, she was exhausted. Vivi closed her eyes, intending to only rest for a minute or two… 

--- 

Vivi woke up hours later, the sun had set and the stars were out. 

“How long was I asleep?” she whispered to herself. She got out of bed and walked over to the window to admire the night sky. The stars were always beautiful, but there was something special about the view from her home, from Alabasta. 

She wondered if Kohza was awake. After everything, Vivi had asked him to stay in the castle with them for a few days at least. Vivi very carefully opened her door and walked into the hallway, trying to remember which room he was staying in. 

It didn’t take long for her to figure it out, but she did stand outside the door for several minutes debating if she should wake him up or not. 

Vivi took a deep breath, calming her nerves before knocking. A grunt came from inside the room. He was awake at least. 

“Kohza, you awake?” she asked, leaning closer to the door. 

“Vivi? Is that you?” 

“Yeah. I was wondering…” she trailed off for a second, realizing how childish she sounded. “...if you wanted to go stargazing like we did when we were kids?” 

Silence. 

Vivi waited for a few seconds, not hearing a response. She stepped back from the door, turning to go back to her room when the door opened up. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

--- 

Kohza took a blanket from his room and the two snuck out of the castle and ran out to the old stone outcrop they had used for sand-sand clan meetings as children. 

“This really brings back memories, doesn’t it,” Kohza said, laying the blanket out on the sand. 

“Yeah, it does. I never stopped thinking about it while I was gone,” Vivi said, sitting next to him. 

“Me neither. It gave me something to hold on to during all of the planning and stress.” 

Vivi chuckled, thinking about how similar their experiences over the past two years really were. 

They looked up at the sky together, pointing out different shapes and making up their own, laughing together for the first time in two years. 

“...and that one looks like Igaram,” Vivi said, tracing an outline of stars. 

“Are you sure it’s not Terracotta?” 

“I’m sure. Besides, Terracotta is right there, see?” she pointed to another cluster of stars next to the one she called Igaram. 

--- 

The rest of the night, the two of them made constellations together, laughing together and reminiscing on their childhood. 

Before falling asleep, Vivi swears she saw a constellation that looked like Luffy, and he smiled at her. Vivi smiled back and laid down in the desert sand with Kohza, just glad to be back home with him again.