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klaus-littlestwolf · 2 years ago

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Hi, I was wondering if I can make a request about an Elijah story?

Could yo do one in which reader is with Klaus but Elijah wants her, even one day he masturbates thinking about her and reader catches him but she thinks it's just a misunderstanding but Elijah can't be any more honorable so he says "you know if don't leave the room right now my hand won't be the one that will be on my cock" while touching continues, reader stays still but then leaves and from there you can continue the story, I would like to see some jealousy from both parties. I love your stories btw

Jealousy is Destructive

Elijah had never been a jealous person.

However lately he was having trouble with being around Klaus and his mate. She’s a lovely little werewolf, always happy and cheerful, she never fails to cheer someone up which really is perfect when she’s dating his brother.

But Elijah can’t help but want her.

Y/n was sweet to him, and while he desperately wanted to read into it, she’s sweet to everyone, something that drives Niklaus up the wall quite often since so many men enjoy her. Elijah tried to push his feelings down, knowing how good Y/n is for his little brother, he’s been on his best behavior since the day they met and she makes him smile in a way Elijah hadn’t seen since they were human.

He would spend as much time with his brothers mate as he could, often taking up her days when Klaus was out doing something villainous, recommending new books for her to read and spending time watching movies she insisted he “needs to see”. Klaus didn’t seem to mind those moments, often even thanking him for keeping Y/n happy and entertained while he couldn’t though it made the elder Mikaelson feel wrought with guilt later that night when he found his hand disobeying him and wrapping around his length desperately as he pictured the werewolf girl in the cute little pajama shorts she wears around the house, his eyes wandering when they ride up her ass too far. Honestly he hasn’t had his hand on his cock this much since he was a teenager.

Niklaus and Y/n had been together for almost 6 months when anyone found out about his little crush and sadly it was Y/n.

It was his fault, he had told her she was always welcome in his room whenever she needed something and she did just that when Klaus unexpectedly went out to chase down the Salvatore’s over something.

As she approached his room she could hear him say her name and she assumed he heard her coming so she just walked into the room, gasping loudly as she found him with his hand wrapped around his cock. ‘Oh Shit! I’m So Sorry!’

‘Y/n!’ He exclaimed, grabbing a pillow and covering himself, not that she hadn’t already seen everything.

‘I heard you say my name! I thought you heard me coming, I’m sorry! Why…why did you-‘

‘Don’t ask! Just go! Please?!’ With that, she turned and slammed the door shut behind her, taking off down the hallway back to Klaus’ room.

Later that evening Elijah entered the kitchen to see Klaus and Y/n making dinner together and he froze, waiting for his brothers rage to wash over him, waiting for the dagger that would inevitably find his heart, but it did not happen, in fact Klaus just looked at him sideways.

‘Why are you just standing there?’ He wondered and Y/n looked up, blushing but quickly moving on.

‘We just finished making dinner, do you want some spaghetti, Elijah?’ She offered and he smiled.

‘That sounds wonderful Y/n, thank you.’ She fixed him a plate and he relaxed with the knowledge that they were moving on from it.

The moment of relief was gone quickly however, as Klaus noticed the dark blush on his mates face. ‘What’s going on?’ He questioned and she looked up at him.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked as she handed Elijah his plate of food.

‘I mean you’re blushing and your heart is going a million miles a minute, and Elijah is acting strange even for Elijah.’ He teased but Elijah could sense his underlying seriousness.

‘Nothing is going on Baby, don’t worry about it. Now, we need Parmesan.’ She spoke but the Hybrids eyes hardened.

‘I don’t like being lied to Y/n, you know that very well. What am I supposed to think when you’re hiding something from me?’ Klaus was seconds away from exploding and they could both feel it prompting Elijah to jump in and defend the girl he had so quickly and deeply fallen for.

‘It was my fault Niklaus, don’t get upset with her-‘

‘No, don’t defend me Elijah, that’s not your job. I can own up to my own mistakes.’ He snapped his mouth shut, stunned by her snap back at him. ‘Not everything is your business Niklaus, sometimes things happen and they’re awkward so people wish to move in from them without speaking about them. That doesn’t mean anyone is lying to you! You don’t get to be upset every single time you’re not privy to something.’ She was so firm and sure of herself that even Klaus seemed stunned in that moment. ‘When you left earlier I decided to spend the day watching movies with Elijah and I walked into his room without knocking. It was my mistake, I was excited to make him start Batman with me and I just forgot myself.’

‘You are very excitable, we need to work on calming you down.’ Klaus joked, clearly trying to calm her down from her snappy anger.

‘Elijah was in a…compromising position when I walked in. We just decided to move on from it and not speak of it again but of course you have to know everything! Now for the LOVE of God will someone Please get me the Parmesan?!’ They both stared at her for a moment before Elijah turned to the fridge and got out the container of grated Parmesan, handing it to her. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course. Thank you for dinner.’ With that Elijah removed himself from the kitchen, comforted and feeling lucky that Y/n is such a sweet girl to protect him from his brothers wrath like that.

The next day Klaus slipped out for a few hours and Elijah came downstairs to find Y/n turning on the Batman movie and smiling at him when he sat beside her.

They had gotten 20 minutes in before either of them said anything. ‘Y/n, I just wanted to-‘

‘Don’t. Don’t you dare thank me. I didn’t lie to Nik, I just didn’t tell him one detail of the incident. That’s all, because I knew what he would do to you if he found out you were thinking about me.’

‘I didn’t mean for you to ever-‘

‘I know, you’re too good a person for that, but if it happens again I will not hide it, understand? We are moving on from this, I get it, it’s not a big deal that you thought about me once and I shouldn’t have walked in on you. However. If you ever, and I do mean Ever, make a pass at me, touch me, or insinuate in anyway that you want to be anything more than the best friends that we are I will dagger you myself.’ He stared at her in complete shock, not knowing how to respond. ‘I love your brother with all my heart, and while I don’t want you hurt, I would rather you in a box than Nik thinking we are anything other than we are and that is best friends, I don’t want to lose that. I love having you as my best friend Elijah…never more than that.’

‘Of course. I understand. It was a one time thing, it won’t happen again. I…I don’t want to lose you either and I love how happy you make Niklaus. You make him happy in ways I haven’t seen since he was a child. We will forget yesterday ever happened.’

‘Good. Now, back to Batman.’

Y/n didn’t know how badly Elijah’s heart was breaking as she told him all of this but he would never let it show, he couldn’t.

Neither of them however knew about the Original Hybrid listening to their conversation from the foyer one room over. He wanted to be angry for them keeping this from him but…he couldn’t.

He couldn’t fault Y/n for wanting to preserve her friendship with his brother. She had given up all of her friendships to be with him, the entire Scooby Gang turning on her when she told them that she’s with him.

And most of all he couldn’t fault his brother. Klaus knows first hand how easy it is to fall for Y/n as he had done it himself almost as soon as they met. Elijah is a hopeless romantic, he’ll get over it and find another women to pine over soon enough. Until then however, popping in on their movie nights would have to become a tradition for him he realized, crawling under the blanket with Y/n and watching Batman Begins alongside them for the rest of the evening.

Elijah Mikaelson Masterlist

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walriding · 7 years ago

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@coolleatherjacket

“So what does anyone do in this town for fun?”

Thus far, Maple Bay seems to be serving as Miles’ personal version of Hell. Nothing happens. Everyone is nice. It’s 100% suburban fucking paradise, and he hates it. At first he’d been suspicious, convinced that the town’s cheery facade was a cover-up for something seriously twisted.

Now he just believes that the town’s residents are just genuinely that middle-aged and boring.

“Y’ever see anything weird around here?” Something. Anything. “Anything... suspicious?” At this point, Miles would take some petty neighborhood drama about who was shirking their PTA duties.

Who knew laying low could be so fucking dull.

#coolleatherjacket #(sᴛᴀᴛɪᴄ sᴋɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜᴢᴢɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴᴇs) ;;; Vᴇʀsᴇ: Mᴀɪɴ #miles: desperately needs to relax and stay out of trouble #also miles: cannot unclench his jaw or trust anyone/anything bc Paranoia #also hi!

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hanafubukki · 3 years ago

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Let My Voice Guide You From a Million Miles Away

Summary: Malleus overblots, and you try to solve a Disney-based problem with a Disney-style solution.

Pairing; Malleus Draconia X Reader (Gender Neutral)

Notes: What’s this?!? A fic that is not Lilia?! I’m surprised too! 😂😂 Guess who watched Belle (2021) and loved it to bits?? And felt inspired to write a very clichéd story based on the songs? THIS ONE 💕💕 If you haven't watched the movie yet, I recommend it 👏👏 though the ending could have been better the songs were AMAZING. 🌸🌺

Songs: Lend Me Your Voice ; A Million Miles Away

· You looked at the overblot in front of you.

· Why was this happening?

· Was it your fault?

· This kept happening over and over.

· Weren’t overblots supposed to be rare?

· These thoughts kept repeating in your mind over and over.

· You could hear the desperate cries of Silver, Sebek, and Lilia.

· You could hear Idia grumbling about the unfairness of stats difference between them all.

· And you?

· You just stared helplessly at the overblot.

· Malleus Draconia

· You should have known.

· You should have stopped it.

· But you couldn’t.

· The giant dragon loomed before all of you.

· Spreading fire and burning everything, even Lilia had trouble keeping everything under control.

· You started moving towards him.

· You had to stop him.

· This was not the Tsunotarou you knew.

· The one who went on walks with you.

· The one who had ice cream with you.

· The one who constantly had spats with Leona and Vil.

· The one who was happy to ride a car for the first time.

· You wanted that Malleus Draconia back.

· You wanted your dragon back.

· You don’t know how you got near Malleus as he rampaged, but you didn’t question it.

· Not to say you were without your injuries.

· Or that you went unnoticed by the others’ gazes.

· Ace and Deuce looked as if they were going to lock you up in your dorm and never let you out.

· Idia looked freaked out and questioned your sanity.

· You couldn’t look at the Diasomnia crew.

· You knew Sebek would blow your eardrums up later if you all survived this.

· You were now near Malleus Draconia, but now what?

· How could you get through to him?

· Well, a Disney-based world needed a Disney-based solution, didn’t it?

· And you had been practicing, so hopefully, it would be enough to snap him out of it.

· Or distract him enough for the others to take him down.

· “Tsunotarou!”

· The dragon swerved his head to look at you.

· You took a deep breath and started to sing.

· “It's easy to push me away from you Easy to say you want to be left on your own Yet somehow, I can't help but see How your eyes shy away Your hands seal the entrance and path to your heart Anger kept fear and the sadness you feel Under the surface for so long Locked that room, you keep it inside”

· You reach your hands out it him.

· “It's not so hard living all by yourself It isn't hard, yes, I know that's what you'll say It's what you have told yourself Over and over again in darkness You try to hold back all the thoughts But you know, I just want you as you are Just the you that I see right before me It's all that has been on my mind”

· He looked at you, his eyes wavering.

· “Please, Tsunotaoru, let’s go home.”

· Malleus was crying.

· You could see him spiraling, his blot threatening to overtake his sanity again.

· “Come back to me, and stay by my side I feel my heart shake Come, ease this ache I’m standing over here, reaching for you A million miles away, come back and stay No matter how far the memories may be When I close my eyes, you’re all that I see Come back to me A million miles away, come back and stay”

· He lowered his head, and you hugged his head to you.

· Patting his snout, you felt his entire body start to relax.

· “You stupid dragon.”

· Malleus huffed.

· You felt the heat and cuddled closer to him.

· “Turn back now; let’s go get some ice cream.”

· Malleus closed his eyes and waited for the blow that would end his blot.

· “That’s not fair! How did YN of all people defeat a UR+ character?”

· “It’s the power of love.”

· “Nya~ I’m going to throw up.”

· “Silver! Now is not the time to fall asleep!”

🌺💕🌸 Hope you enjoyed🌺🌸💕

@coraldelusiondaze See? It wasn’t bad at all right?☺️🌸🌺🌻

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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Taking Chances Ch. 11: Blast from the Past (Siblings)

AO3

Swinging side by side with her father was an amazing experience. Marinette tried hard to stifle her laughter, figuring Batman wouldn’t appreciate it if word got around that the newest vigilante was a giggler. He swings to the next roof and pauses, Marinette frowning as he listens to something on his comm.

“Alright. All hands on deck. Robin, you’ll stay on the roof with Ladybird.” He instructs, Marinette frowns. Was he really sticking her younger brother on babysitting duty? And why couldn’t she go wherever it is he’s going?

“What’s happening?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“There are several crates of weapons and a few dozen armed men in a warehouse a mile out from here. You and Robin are going to stay on the roof to make sure no one leaves before the police arrive.” He instructs before turning and grappling away. Marinette frowns, but follows behind him. Does he really not think that she can handle herself? And she knows this is going to cause problems with Damian. He already doesn’t like her and now he has to stay with her. She watches as he swoops down into the warehouse and she lands silently on the roof.

“I do not appreciate this.” Robin says, stepping out of the shadows with crossed arms. Although she can’t see his eyes behind his mask, Marinette knows he’s glaring at her. She just rolls her eyes.

“I don’t either. I don’t need someone watching me 24/7. I can take care of myself.” She says, and with a sudden jolt, she realizes this is the first time he’s willingly speaking to her. The first time they’re talking and it’s to argue. Lovely.

“If you had simply stayed away, then I would have been allowed to follow Father. Instead, I am being punished for your insolence.” He adds. Is he going to lecture her the entire time Batman and the others are fighting in the warehouse, she thinks, raising an eyebrow. She starts to snark back, but a shadow moving behind him pulls her attention instead. Narrowing her eyes, she watches as a figure steps out of the shadow, a gun raised at her.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” The man asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette glances at Robin, trying to see if he recognizes the voice. She doesn’t see any recognition, so she immediately catalogues the man as an unknown threat. Chances were that he was involved with the group currently fighting in the warehouse and not an actual Batman level villain. But he still had a gun, so she wouldn’t underestimate him. Robin turns to face the man and he immediately takes the gun off Marinette, pointing it instead at Robin’s head. Marinette narrows her eyes. She may not know him very well, but he was still her little brother. And she wasn’t about to let some stupid goon threaten him. Flicking her wrist, she aims her yoyo at the man’s gun, smirking as she manages to yank it from his grasp. She catches the gun as it flies back with her yoyo, holding it carefully and trying to ignore the internal panic. She’d never held a gun before, never wanted to or had a reason to. And she really didn’t want to hold it now, but she didn’t want the man to know that she was scared of the gun, because that would give him an advantage. She just grins at the dumbfounded look on the man’s face, his shock enough so that Robin was able to knock him down without a fight. He pulls a zip tie out of his utility belt and ties the man’s hands together.

“Well that was disappointing. I was hoping for more of a fight.” Marinette teases, hoping that the tension between her and Robin would break. She watches as his lips purse slightly, not sure what the expression meant.

“I hardly think one buffoon with a gun would be much of a fight for either of us.” He finally says, and her eyes light up. Success!

“But if it was the right foe, they could surely take you down.” A new voice says, and this time Marinette can practically feel the tension rolling off of Robin.

“Slade.” He says, obviously tensing for a fight.

“Damian. I wasn’t aware you were in possession of a Miraculous.” The man, Slade, says, turning towards her. Marinette stiffens, uncomfortable by both his words and the fact that she can’t see the man’s face because of his costume.

“I’m not in possession of anything.” He says, his jaw clenched. Marinette shifts into a defensive position, desperately wishing that she had a comm. Surely the rest of the family had heard this man’s intrusion through Robin. But she wished she could hear them. Whether it was giving information about the man or reassurance that the rest of them would be there soon, she wanted to hear them.

“Tell me, little girl, how did you stumble upon one of the most powerful pieces of magic in the universe? And why haven’t I met you before?” He asks, stepping towards them. Glaring at the man, Marinette steps forward so that she’s standing in line with Robin, unwilling to cower behind her brother.

“I don’t think we run in the same circles. And I assure you, I didn’t stumble across anything. I was chosen to wield this Miraculous.” She says, shoving false confidence in her tone when all she wanted was to grab Robin and run. Slade oozed a sense of wrongness and danger. Not a combination she wanted anywhere near her or her family.

“Mmm. Perhaps not. But we’ll never know, will we. I’m going to have to ask you for that Miraculous now, dear.” He says, her eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure if that’s worked for you in the past, but it’s not going to work today. You’re not the first creep in a mask asking for my Miraculous.” She snarks, hand twitching as she analyzes him and tries to come up with a plan. Without any warning, he lunges towards them, a sword suddenly in his grasp. Marinette jumps back, going on the defense as Robin lunges forward with his own katana. Marinette flits around both of them, throwing her yoyo at Slade every time he got too close to Robin. It was obvious the man was well trained, and it was also obvious that he had little patience for the two.

“You’ve improved, but you’re still not good enough.” He hisses, lunging towards Robin, his sword aimed at the boy’s chest. Marinette lunges towards them, shoving Robin out of the way. She shrieks in pain as Slade slides his sword into her shoulder. She can’t see the man’s face, but she can just imagine his smirk. He puts his other hand on his sword, and she just knows he’s going to twist. She can’t let that happen. So instead, she jerks back, screaming as she pulls herself off the sword. Robin launches himself at Slade once again, furiously slashing at the man. Slade lifts his sword up and Marinette flicks out her yoyo, grunting in pain as she irritates her shoulder. But she’s able to wrap her yoyo around the man’s wrist. Smirking, she tugs roughly, pulling the man off balance enough so that Robin can disarm him. Just as she lets her shoulders relax, Slade yanks his arm, tugging her to him. She yelps in pain as he wraps her into a chokehold. Staring at Robin, she tries not to panic. They’re gonna come for them, right? The rest of her family? Surely they’ve beaten those goons by now. They definitely heard the problem on the roof through Robin’s comm, right?

“Unhand her.” Robin says, shifting his position now that he has two swords.

“I don’t think I will. Not for free, anyway. You want her alive for some reason.” Slade says, tightening his hold. Marinette lets out a choked breath, desperately trying to pull in enough oxygen.

“What do you want?” Robin asks, Marinette tries to shake her head, already guessing what the man wants. She’d rather die than give some psycho the power of Tikki. Not only could he destroy the world, but Paris would also be lost without the Miraculous Cure.

“Her earrings. Let me take them, and I’ll let her live….this time.” He says.

“No….don’t...not..worth it.” Marinette manages to say, just barely able to shake her head. She gags as Slade tightens his grip again, black spots dotting her vision.

“Ladybird-” Robin says, and Marinette is certain she’s hallucinating now. Because he almost sounds pained.

“Don’t.” She begs, fighting to stay conscious. As she watches him, she sees a smirk make its way onto his face. That’s good. Good. Smirking brother means….what does it mean? She’s not sure. All she knows is that suddenly, the pressure on her neck is gone. She falls to her knees, gasping for breath and wincing at the burning in her shoulder. Too much. Too much all at once. A hand on her good shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and she weakly hits at it.

“Ladybird, it’s me.” A voice says. She blinks, opening her eyes, wincing at the pain enveloping her. Looking closer at the figure, she sighs in relief, letting herself slump down. She’s safe. Arms pick her up gently and she smiles softly, tiredness hitting her as the adrenaline finally fades. Curling in closer, she mumbles into Batman’s chest.

“Thanks dad.”

---

Bruce Wayne was pissed. And the only person who could piss him off so much was himself. He’d left Damian and Marinette on the roof alone because he thought they’d be safer. He didn’t think the two would be able to get into any trouble up there. Of course he would be wrong. Of course Slade Wilson would choose tonight to come after Damian. And of course the man just had to know about the Miraculous.

Hearing his daughter’s pained screams over his son’s comm would haunt his nightmares. It’d likely become the unholy symphony over the images of Jason’s broken body and Damian’s limp form. Images that’d haunted him for years and would continue to do so until he dies. When he was young, his nightmares were just of his parents. But he had seen things much worse since becoming a father. And now he’d heard much worse. Shaking his head, he tries hard to hold onto the one bright part of the evening.

Marinette had called him dad.

It was the first time she’d called him anything other than ‘Mr. Wayne’. His heart warmed at the thought, but everything came crashing down again when he remembered. Slade Wilson was gone. He’d managed to get away while his focus was on Marinette’s wellbeing. Which means his daughter was now in even more danger. Damian had informed him of the man’s obsession with the Miraculous. It was something they’d need to talk about, but not tonight. After she passed out in his arms, he brought her back to the manor. Alfred stitched her shoulder, and Bruce brought her to her room. It wasn’t decorated yet, but he’d made sure to pick out a room for her after finding out about her. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with them after this, she’d always have a room here.

Sighing, Bruce sticks his head into Marinette’s room, just to reassure himself that she was there. That she was safe. It was something he did with each of his kids, every time they were injured. Every time he was afraid that he would lose them. The sight in front of him makes him pause and pull out his phone to take a picture. They might be mad at him for it later, but he’d curse himself forever if he let this moment slip away. All of his children were piled in Marinette’s room. The girl herself was on the bed, curled into a ball despite her injured shoulder. At the foot of her bed was Damian, his face peaceful for once. Jason, Dick and Tim were all in a pile on the floor, pillows and blankets scattered both beneath them and on top of them. They were an impossibly tangled pile of limbs, guarding their youngest sister. He smiles softly, eyes finally falling on Cass curled up in an armchair that she must’ve pulled next to Marinette’s bed. Satisfied that all were well, Bruce shuts the door gently, not wanting to risk waking any of them.

His children were together, and safe. For now.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

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superbadassnatural · 4 years ago

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Mirth Motel

Summary: Y/N desperately needs her beauty sleep. After lots of begging and attempts at the perfect puppy-dog-eyes, she finally convinces Dean to stop at a motel. Square filled: only one bed Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 2,188 Warnings: mostly fluff I guess, some funny bits, flirting, lots of eye rolls A/N: Surprisingly, I had never written this trope before! I’m not gonna lie, I had fun writing it. This fills my square for @spndeanbingo.

(x)

“Please,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes. Dean averted his eyes from the road to look at you. “Pretty please.”

“I'm gonna kill Sam for teaching the puppy-dog-eye thing,” he rolled his eyes.

“Is it working? Who does it better?” you wiggled your eyebrows excitedly.

“Sam’s been doing this his whole life; he had years of practice. Of course, he does it better,” he pointed out. “Sam looks like a kicked golden retriever puppy, and you-” he chuckled. “- you look like an angry chihuahua pretending to be sad, so you can go to the dog park and scare all the dogs away.”

“I've always wanted to be a chihuahua.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” it was your time to roll your eyes. “C’mon, Dean, there's a motel in a few miles. We can crash there. I'm tired. I desperately need my beauty sleep and my feet hurt and I need out of these uncomfortable clothes.”

“Well, my head hurts from hearing you ramble, but I'm not complaining, am I?” he glanced at you, pursing his lips.

“It's late and it's raining. Do you really want to put Baby through this rain? I bet she's cold.”

“Nah, she likes it when it rains. She thinks it's romantic,” his lips pulled up into an asymmetric grin. “If you want to, you can go into the backseat, change into your pjs and get some of your beauty sleep. I promise I won't look while you change. Unless you ask me to.”

“Dean, c’mon.”

“If I pull up at the motel and we crash there for the night, will you stop whining?”

“I'll never whine again for the rest of my life. Cross my heart.”

“Hey, careful there.”

“Please,” you batted your eyelashes. “Do it for me. I know that, deep down in that cold heart of yours, you love me.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “You won.”

“Have I mentioned you are the bestest friend in the world?” you grinned.

“Nope.”

“Well, you are the bestest friend in the world.”

Dean drove for a few more miles. The rain cracked on the hood of the Impala. The sound was relaxing and lulling. The neon sign greeted you, and Dean turned left to head into the parking lot.

“Really? Mirth Motel? What kind of name is that?” he grunted.

“I don’t know, Dean,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “At this point, I couldn't care less about the name of the motel. As long as it has beds and a shower, it's fine by me.”

Dean took a few turns in the parking lot, struggling to find a spot he could park his car.

“Oh for fucks sake, everyone decided to stay here tonight?”

“Stop complaining,” you nearly whined.

“There isn't a single spot where I can park Baby. There better be a room available for us.”

“Stop being so grumpy. There's a space available right there.”

“Where?”

“There!”

“Thanks,” he huffed.

“You're welcome,” you pouted.

Dean parked the car, cutting off the engine. He sighed and glanced at you.

“We’re far away from the entry,” he pointed out. “There's no way to get inside without getting ourselves wet.”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged. “As long as I get to take a shower as soon as I step foot in there, it's okay.”

“Okay.”

You and Dean climbed out of the car quickly with duffle bags over your shoulders. You made a beeline to the entrance of the building, the rain mercilessly pouring down on you. Dean immediately went to the front desk, some of his wet hair stuck to his forehead. You took a few steps back, grabbing your phone and deciding to text Sam to let him know you had made a stop at a motel.

“Two queens, please,” Dean smiled at the old lady behind the counter. She nodded and checked on the system.

“I’m sorry, dear, we don’t have any room available with two queen-sized beds,” she offered him a sympathetic smile. “But we do have a room that will settle you for the night just fine.”

“Okay,” Dean frowned as the woman handed him the keys with a smirk. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, dear. It's on the second floor. Have fun,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Dean turned to you with wide eyes. You glanced up from your phone.

“All good?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Got it.”

“Great. Shall we?”

Dean gave a short nod and led the way.

“Dude, we’ve been to a lot of crappy motels, but this one takes the cake,” he mumbled as you climbed up the stairs. “Why the hell couldn’t I just park the car and get in a room like every other motel?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but complaining won’t make any difference,” you chided. “And we’re gonna stay here for less than twelve hours. We’re gonna be on the road first thing in the morning, so please, just stop complaining, or I’ll smack your head in the wall.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Dean twisted the key in the lock, swinging the door open. He stepped inside, flicking on the lights; you followed suit. Dean sighed and threw his head back with a roll of his eyes. You frowned with a tilt of your head before looking over his shoulder.

“Of course there’s only one bed,” you blew out a breath. “Are we in a movie? ‘Cause now it certainly feels like we’re in a movie.”

Dean placed his bag on the table; you did the same.

“I expected more from a place called Mirth Motel,” he said. “I am certainly feeling mirthless.”

“Very funny, Dean,” you rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m gonna take a shower now, and when I get out, you better not be in a sour mood.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go get us some burgers. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Grabbing the keys, Dean walked out of the room. You picked up everything you needed and headed to the shower. The water pressure wasn’t nearly as good as the one you had in the bunker, but, right now, it was everything you needed.

By the time Dean got back, you were laying on the right side of the bed - knowing he’d rather sleep on the right -, reading your book. He held the paper bag in one hand and two beers in the other.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, placing the food on the table. “The burgers are still warm, but I think the beers might need to go in the fridge for a bit.”

“Want me to wait for you?”

“Nah, there’s no need to.”

“Okay, I’m waiting for you,” you said, and he chuckled. “What? There’s no fun in eating alone.”

“It’s gonna get cold.”

“We microwave it.”

“Right,” he smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hmm, this delicious,” you nearly moaned, mouthful.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean smiled as he finished his burger, taking a long swig of his beer. “Look, if you want to, I can sleep in the backseat of Baby. I don’t mind. She’s comfy.”

“No, Dean, it’s okay,” you assured him, hand reaching out to his thick forearm. “The bed is big enough for both of us. It’s a king-sized bed, after all. We’d be in trouble if Sam had come with us.”

“Yeah, we would,” he chuckled. “He hogs all the blankets.”

“And all the space. That giant.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“One-hundred percent sure,” you smiled. “Unless you are the one who doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

“Huh? I- uh- of course, I wanna sleep with you,” he stumbled over his words, his voice trembling. You blurt out laughing. “No. I mean- I don’t mind sleeping with you on the same bed. Clothed and all. Not, uh, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and, uh- yeah, not that.”

“Easy, tiger. No need to get all flustered,” you chuckled. The point of his ears turned pink as his cheeks blushed. He took a long gulp of his beer. “For the record, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you. I mean, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and all. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

His wide green eyes lifted at you before averting your face again. Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

“Would you?” you asked.

“Would I what?”

“Mind sleeping with me butt-naked.”

“Oh. No, of course not,” he stammered, shaking his head nervously. “Not even a bit.”

“Good,” you nodded. “It’s good to know we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh- I’m gonna go to sleep then,” he announced, awkwardly standing to his feet. “I’m tired.”

“Okay, you do that. I’ll be right after you.”

“Okay, good. Great.”

Dean locked himself in the bathroom, doing who knows what. You chuckled to yourself with a shake of your head. You loved making him feel embarrassed. Dean would get all cute whenever he felt uncomfortable. His eyes would widen, and he would lose every ability to talk. When his cheeks turned into a bright pink along with the tip of his ears, then everything was chaotic. It was nice to make him blush.

You laid on your back. The mattress wasn’t that comfortable. You didn’t expect it to be memory foam, but you hoped it would be a little comfier than it actually was. Your eyes were glued on the ceiling, your hands over your stomach as your finger tapped the back of your right one. An awkward silence filled the atmosphere as Dean, too, laid on his back without saying a word. His green eyes stared up as he chewed on his lip.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you said quietly, glancing at him.

“The ceiling is moving.”

“What?” you looked up with wide eyes. The ceiling was perfectly still.“Are you high?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I've been staring at it for too long, and now it’s moving.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Thanks, you too,” Dean turned on his side, glancing at you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that shirt.”

“My shirt?” you bit your lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter.

“No, my shirt. You stole it.”

“You don’t remember, do you? You gave it to me as a birthday present.”

“It isn’t your birthday for the next month and a half.”

“You said it was an early gift,” you said firmly.

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I had given it to you,” he said. “But what do I know, right?”

“What do you know,” you licked your lips, turning to him.

“It looks better on you anyway,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, it does.”

Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment, then backed up to your eyes. You drew a sharp intake of breath. His emerald green orbs seemed to unravel all the mysteries of your soul. You swallowed thick, avoiding his gaze. Slowly, Dean’s hand reached to yours under the blankets, his thumb caressed your skin. You looked up at him, his eyes locked in yours. As a way to avoid the growing tension between the two of you, you gave him a playful smirk and placed your feet on his legs.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling away; his hand didn’t let go, though. “Why are your feet so cold?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled innocently “You’re always hot, so now you’re gonna warm my feet since the blanket isn’t doing its job.”

“Jesus, it’s like the feet of a corpse.”

“Hey!” you smacked his shoulder. “Don’t say that.”

“Well, maybe if you wore some pants instead of shorts and actually put on some socks, your feet wouldn't be this cold.”

“You’re not fun, ” you pouted.

“If I had my feet against your shins, you wouldn't be too happy about it either.”

“Just admit you love having me this close to you,” you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.

“G’night, Y/N,” he turned his back on you.

“My feet are still cold,” you whined. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know. Use my calves maybe. Just don’t put those dead feet on my back.”

“Can I put them on your ass? I bet it would get them warm pretty quick.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbled, you could almost hear his eyes rolling.

“Is that a yes or a no?” you insisted.

“That’s a no. Now shut it and go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Good night, Dean.”

Eventually, your feet got warm, and you pulled away from Dean. Some time, in the middle of the night, he found your back turned to him and decided to snuggle closer. His strong arm draped over your waist, knees tucked behind yours. Dean was laying on his back when the sun rose, and you rested your head on his chest, his arms once again securing you close. Of course, none of you would talk about waking up in each other's arms for the next four hours you’d be in the car. Perhaps you would only mention it once you were back at the bunker, forced to face what was said and done at the Mirth Motel.

What do you think of this one? Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog, or ask!

Hunters: @hobby27 @thewinchesterandreidwhore @tatted-trina6 @doozywoozy @mogaruke @babypink224221 @leah-winchester

Dean’s Sweethearts: @maya-craziness @akshi8278 @miss-here-to-stay @witch-of-letters @weepingwillowphoenix @danneelsmain @mrspeacem1nusone @percywinchester27

#spndeanbingo #supernarural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #deanreader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Late in the Night | Part Three

Previous part

Prompt: There’s only one bed (Content Challenge Day 6)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG

Word count: 1914

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

A/n Happy Day 6 of my content challenge! If you like my account, chances are you’ll love the accounts mentioned above! Check them out if you can :) If you want more, you can find the challenge’s masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, happy reading!

The tavern is warm and a welcome escape from the evening chill. Occupying the common room is a small, though lively, crowd, including Gimli and Boromir, who sit in plushy chairs drinking mead by the fire. The barman eyes the newcomers with a measure of surprise — it’s his second unusual guest of the night. Though the woman is predictably human, the one standing next to her is clearly an elf. The barman marvels at his luck, knowing he will be the talk of the town if he can compile some interesting stories about the elf and the dwarf he met this eve.

The barman waves at the odd couple, and they come to the counter. The three exchange pleasantries, but Legolas and Y/n are careful to be vague about their travel plans. Even though the barman seems innocently curious, one can never be too cautious. The barman inquires about their needs.

“Meals for tonight and tomorrow morning, as well as two rooms — at least one with a fireplace if you’ve got it.” Legolas reaches under his cloak and produces a velvet pouch containing the human currency he brought for the journey.

The barman grimaces. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid there is only one room left. You see, we are a small establishment, and the guests that arrived shortly before you requested separate dwellings.”

With narrowed eyes, Legolas turns to regard a very satisfied-looking human and dwarf. Gimli raises his mug, winking at his elven friend.

“Did they, now,” Legolas murmurs, beginning to guess at his friend’s plan. At his side, he hears Y/n huff in disbelief, obviously having caught on.

To his credit, the barman seems genuinely apologetic. “Yes, I-I’m afraid so, sir. If you like, there is another inn on the other side of town, I could inquire about vacancies there—”

“No, thank you.” Legolas cuts him off, trying to soften his cold tone with a smile. He can’t risk the managers talking and comparing guests before he and his companions are long gone. “We will make do.”

The barman briefly disappears to find the key, and Y/n tries to study Legolas surreptitiously. Unfortunately, he seems to have the same idea about her, and their eyes dart away immediately upon meeting, knowing they’d each been caught.

How awkward.

The barman returns, sliding a smooth silver key into Legolas’ hand, who quickly pays the man. “Would it be too much trouble to have dinner delivered to our room?” Legolas swallows. Our room.

The barman responds favorably, but there is an unmistakable note of disappointment to his tone. No doubt he was looking forward to studying probably the only elf he’s ever seen.

Y/n sneaks a look over to Gimli, who is quite enjoying his mead, and figures that he will give the barman enough entertainment to last a few years.

The pair ascends the stairs, and Y/n notices a pink twinge to Legolas’ cheeks. He stumbles over his words, something quite unusual for him. “I—uh, did not mean to presume. I apologize.”

Y/n shrugs. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s our fault for not asking to arrive first, I guess,” Y/n tries for a laugh, but it’s impossible for Legolas to not notice how she won’t meet his eyes.

He stops on the landing, looking quite pained. He hates the idea of making her uncomfortable. “I will sleep on the floor.”

Y/n takes pity on the poor elf, and puts effort into seeming relaxed. “No, really, it’s okay. It’s no different from lying near each other when we camp, right?”

It is completely different, Legolas thinks, but decides not to share that comment.

They reach the door, and both try to will their nerves away as Legolas turns the key in the lock.

“Oh.” Y/n is pleasantly surprised by the state of the room. “It’s nice.”

Legolas has to agree. The bed—the sole bed—is off the ground and boasts an actual mattress, complete with two fluffy pillows and three blankets. There’s a fireplace, a water basin, a tin tub, two exceptionally large jugs of water, and a changing screen. The presence of these amenities constitutes luxury after their time in the wilderness.

Y/n crosses the threshold first, and Legolas chides his own cowardice. The battlefield gives no fear to him, but sharing a room with the woman he…

Well.

He forces himself to enter the room.

Y/n twists the hem of her tunic in her hands, trying desperately to get through the awkwardness. “Will it bother you if I have a bath?”

Legolas practically catapults himself forward, eager to have a task to busy his mind. “Not at all. I’ll heat the water.” He grabs one of the water-filled jugs, lays it on the grate inside the fireplace, and works to start a fire.

Y/n fiddles with the changing screen, dragging it slightly to the left so it completely shields the length of the tub. Even though the fire is properly kindled, Legolas stays near it, kneeled on the ground, eyes glued to the heating water.

Y/n chances a look at him, and the sight of him brings a small smile to her lips. He’s just so sweet. And though she would never say it out loud, Y/n admits to herself that, if she had to spend the night with any of her companions, Legolas would be her first and only choice.

Y/n busies herself with spot-cleaning their extra clothes until Legolas has the water heated and pours it in the bath.

Are his cheeks red from embarrassment or the heat, she wonders.

“I-I’ll stay near the bed and-and give you your privacy,” he stutters out, looking anywhere but at her.

Definitely embarrassment. Y/n bites back a smile, grabs her washing supplies, and slips behind the changing screen.

She undresses and slides into the water, sighing contentedly at her first encounter with warm water in weeks. Knowing it won’t last long, she works quickly to scrub the dirt from her skin.

Legolas sits on the edge of the bed, trying to distract himself by cleaning their weapons. He doesn’t know whether he should try and converse with her, or ignore her completely, or if he should just run from the room and never come back?

Valar, how this is difficult!

A knock sounds on the door.

“That was fast,” Y/n muses, to which Legolas hums in agreement.

He sheds his cloak and uses it to conceal the weapons, then meets the barman at the door to collect the dinner plates.

Legolas shuts the door with his foot and turns back towards the bed.

And freezes upon realizing the issue.

Y/n is still in the bath.

Legolas exhales, looking down at the plate in his right hand, then to the changing screen, then quickly to the opposite corner of the room, a blush coming to his cheeks once again.

He closes his eyes, drawing in a breath.

You are a prince, he reminds himself. You lead council meetings, command troops, and have the respect of an entire kingdom. Pull yourself together.

Before he can give himself a chance to lose his nerve, he turns on his heel, and marches towards the changing screen.

“Delivery, My Lady.”

The teasing tone in Legolas’ voice catches Y/n off guard, and she releases a startled laugh. He can’t be serious? But she sees the tips of his boots peeking under the edge of the wooden screen, and decides to play along, trusting him to keep his gaze respectful. “You may approach, Good Sir.”

Legolas peeks around the screen, presenting Y/n her plate of food and making a show of keeping his eyes closed.

Y/n giggles, for just a moment forgetting the awkwardness and the insurmountable pressure of the fate of the world on their shoulders. “Such service! Thank you.”

Legolas bows, and returns with his own food to his spot on the bed. As they eat, they trade stories of the time before they knew each other — Y/n being careful to edit any details that would give her non-Arda origins away. When the food is gone and the bathwater runs cold, Y/n dries, dresses in fresh clothing, and folds back the changing screen.

She and Legolas stare at each other, unsure how to proceed.

“Um, is there anything you needed to do before bed?”

“No.” Legolas shakes his head. “You?”

“No.” A pause. “Well, I guess we should go to sleep, unless you wanted a bath?”

“It’s alright, I washed in the stream earlier.”

Y/n shifts on her feet. “Oh. Right. You sure you don’t want something hot?”

Legolas smiles. “Temperature doesn’t affect ellyn the way it does humans.”

Y/n laughs softly at herself, using it as an opportunity to exhale some of the nerves. “Forgot….I’ll just get the candles, then.”

Legolas stands abruptly. “Let me.” Then, his panicked look fades into a teasing smile. “Humans already have terrible eyesight in the daytime, I fear for your safety if I let you stumble around in the dark.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Y/n laughs, crawling onto the side of the bed closest to her. The mattress probably isn’t the softest in the world, but it’s much better than the freezing ground. And the pillow and blankets are a nice touch. Y/n remembers her fluffy bed back home, and finds herself snuggling deeper into the covers, trying to recreate the memory.

The room goes dark, and moments later, Y/n feels the bed dip beside her.

Legolas slides under the covers wordlessly, keeping as far to the edge as he can. His mind runs a million miles a minute, wondering if he’s making her uncomfortable, noticing how nice her hair smells, thinking how he’s going to kill Boromir and Gimli for putting them in this position, and everything in between.

On the other side of the bed, Y/n stares at the wall, unable to calm down enough to sleep. Never in her life has she been so affected by someone else’s presence. It’s just a bed for Pete’s sake, she’s shared plenty of them before!

But she can feel his warmth from across the mattress, can picture how his chest would feel under her cheek, and fights the urge to cuddle in close to him.

Oh how she is going to murder Gimli and Boromir.

Time passes, neither of them knowing how much.

But after a while, Y/n gives voice to the more anxious thoughts in her head, unable to let them go.

“Are you awake?”

Legolas’ voice is soft, barely a whisper in the late night. “Yes.”

Silence, and Legolas wonders if Y/n has fallen asleep. But a few breaths later, she speaks again, this time, with a measure of fear in her voice.

“Do you think we can do it? Destroy the Ring?”

“We will.” His voice is confident, steady, just the reassurance she needs. “No matter the cost, we will see this Evil defeated.”

Y/n sighs, closing her eyes. She gives into the exhaustion in her bones, in her mind, and sinks into dreamless sleep. Legolas follows not long after, allowing himself only the briefest of looks at his slumbering companion. He holds the image of her peaceful face in his mind as he drifts off.

And if they do find themselves cuddled up in the morning, well, no one needs to know.

A/n See you all tomorrow with part four! Likes, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. Also, let me know if you would like a tag!

Tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama

Next part

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earnestly-endlessly · 4 years ago

Note

Hiii could you rec any fics where Erik or Charles or both are vampires and or werewolves?

Thank you so much dear lots of love

I'm so sorry for being so late with this, but in compensation I do have tons of fics that should quench your thirst for some vampire/werewolf cherik. Enjoy!

Vampire

And the Gunslinger Followed – musical_emjay

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hunts the things that go bump in the night.

He’s done so since he was a child, since the first time his mother put a knife in his hand and told him how to use it, told him why he should.

But ten years alone on the road has caught up to him, left him wrung out and longing for a place to rest, recharge, get his head back on straight. Though nowhere has ever truly felt like home, he heads straight for New York City, a place that’s always had more to offer him by way of warmth and comfort than any other. What he finds when he gets there, however, is several miles south of anything approaching restful. Old acquaintances, old memories, and a mysterious stranger who has him forgetting all his rules — Erik soon realizes there are decisions he needs to make, before circumstances intervene and make them for him. Otherwise, he might not like the result.

An Accident of Circumstance – manic_intent

Summary: Secret Santa, for azryal00, prompts: virginity, stalking or vampire AU. Decided to attempt all, in one fic. As part of a reward for his successes in border skirmishes, Sebastian Shaw allows Erik discretion to create a childe of his own, within reason. Erik rebels.

B-Negative – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the 5 Acts thing on livejournal, for toestastegood's 'Vampire AU' Act. This was originally going to be some sort of True Blood parody, but it somehow became a bit more serious. :/

Bloodbound – ikeracity

Summary: Finding himself strapped for cash at the start of his senior year, Erik decides to become a donor at TypO, a blood bar where vampires come to drink fresh blood from consenting donors, safely and legally. There, he catches the eye of Charles Xavier, vampire, telepath, professor at Columbia, and quite possibly the most alluring person Erik's ever met. Their first meeting sets into motion a bond much deeper than they can understand, one that neither of them had ever expected.

Old Metal (Blood, Memory and Rubber Ducks) – pprfaith

Summary: Erik is a vampire. Sookie, err, Charles is a telepath. Any questions?

Food Allergies – madneto

Summary: A bout of insomnia one fateful night leads Erik to Xavier's, the late night bookstore near Columbia University, whose owner Erik quickly decides is the best thing since... well, since maybe ever. Charles is brilliant, funny, passionate, handsome, and every other good adjective Erik can think of, and even though they've only been on three dates, Erik is convinced this is the start of something perfect.

Then Charles has a bad reaction to the food Erik cooks for them on their fourth date, leaving Erik to wonder if maybe he's completely botched his one chance at true love.

Series

The Price for Eternity – madneto

Summary: Erik and Charles are relaxing in the park when Erik decides to ask Charles a question that has long been on his mind, re: vampires. The answer is unexpected.

Series

The Boy with the Sigil Tattoo – keire_ke

Summary: Buffy AU. The story of a boy and his vampire.

Love and Other Secrets – Microsaur

Summary: Erik is a vampire that would much rather be left alone, Charles is a baronet that can't seem to accept that.

The First One – SassyDuckQueen

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a vampire living in a peaceful life in New York City, where he works as a night time security guard at the Pentagram. He's in a relationship with Charles Xavier, a young professor at a private university. However, his life is thrown upside down by the return of his wayward son, Peter, who informs him that an old enemy has resurfaced.

Series

Blood Bound – WaxRhapsodic

Summary: Charles is sick. Again. He decides to do something drastic about it and take a Blood Contract with a Vampire who turns out to be dangerously attractive.

Night Holds No Redemption – isabella

Summary: Vampire Hunters AU

When vampires roam the city at night there are also those who will hunt them down.

Charles Xavier and James “Logan” Howlett are vampire hunters part of the NIB – Night Investigation Bureau, in New York. When Erik, a vampire Charles failed to kill, comes back to haunt him Charles finds he no longer can run from his past and has to face the truth about the monster he created.

Pairing info: Flashbacks are Charles/Erik, present focuses first on the growing relationship between Logan/Charles, then on Charles/Erik.

Endgame will be Charles/Erik.

Night Life – Ook

Summary: he young journalist, or researcher, or whatever he is, is going to get himself in trouble around here. Erik can tell.

A researcher who doesn't know when to stop.

A man who doesn't take no for an answer.

A vampire that doesn't give interviews.

Werewolf

Dancing in the Rain – Pangea, velvetcadence

Summary: Werewolf alpha Erik found a human pup Charles alone in the forest and took him back to his lair. Erik protected and cared for the boy, though he was barely a mature wolf himself.

A few years passed, Charles grew up so pretty, and Erik was afraid he would miss his kind and go back to them, leaving Erik to be alone again - but Charles stayed and chose to be Erik’s mate.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

Loyalty and Obedience – Ook

Summary: A human rent boy working the streets gets rescued from a pimp by the Lehnsherr Pack Head and his Second on a recruitment trip. Werewolves, huh?

Who knows where this one's going?

Skin Deep – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the kmeme, Everyone-is-a-werewolf AU. Erik happens upon a seemingly abandoned mansion in Westchester during a full moon and finds an insanely clueless werewolf living in isolation.

In Escrow – manic_intent

Summary: Same 'verse as Skin Deep, between the final part and the epilogue. Charles abruptly realizes that he's unable to shift forms after a full moon. Which can only mean one thing.

Supernatural and the Scientist – Caradee

Summary: Charles Xavier is a upcoming geneticist and wildlife biologist who’s next big thesis reveals a little to much about the hidden werewolf community. Now Erik Lehnsehrr is suppose to figure out who it is feeding Xavier the information and put an end to it.

However, things are not what they appear.

Open Season – Caradee

Summary: Charles is a adorable omega wolf who has no sense for pack dynamics and wanders on his own. Erik is the exhausted Alpha of the pack who is unfortunately smitten with him. Its hunting season, nothing can go wrong. Right?

Only Hope – onaxe

Summary: According to werewolf law, an unwed Omega cannot legally hold custody of a child. When Charles is challenged for custody over his 17 year old sister, Raven, he desperately turns to the only solution available. He marries a complete stranger, Alpha Erik Lehnsherr, who is haunted by a mysterious past.

Note: Unfinished but a fun read.

Tooth and Nail – TurtleTotem

Summary: Erik is no longer part of Charles's pack. It's none of his business who he takes as a mate.

Vampires and Werewolves

For you, Eternity – gerec, lachatblanche

Summary: Erik still remembers the day he lost everything to a pack of werewolves; his family, his village, and the love of his life. Left with nothing but regret and pain everlasting, he turns to Sebastian Shaw - who promises revenge in exchange for loyalty eternal.

For centuries, he leads his clan of vampires in a war against their hated enemy, the same werewolf pack responsible for the slaughter of Erik’s village. But now Logan - the pack’s new leader - wants to make peace with their age old adversaries; an act that neither side particularly cares to pursue.

Adding to this volatile mix is one Charles Xavier, scientist and academic, drawn to the continent by his fascination for the supernatural and the locals’ tales of love, betrayal and never-ending war…

On the Scent – dedkake

Summary: The full moon is nearing and Charles decides to visit his neighbor.

Does not ebb – StarkMad

Summary: prompt: "...I would love a fic with Charles and Erik in an Underworld AU basically with Charles as Selene's character and Erik as Michael Corvin's character

and/ooor nonnie could do an Underworld: Rise of the Lycans and Charles as Sonja's character and Erik as Lucian (feel free and make me cry, dearest nonnie) feel free to do whatever you want as long as the AU still remains identifiable (and just kill me with tons of Chares and Erik drama and lurve and heartache and whatever.

Dear Neighbour Mine – issabella

Summary: Fill for the prompt by Lonelyparts: Charles is a telepathic werewolf living next door to a vampire who favours severe black turtlenecks and metal coffins.

Of course they have to annoy each other first, before dangerous circumstances bring them together.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #werewolf AU #vampire art #there are surprisingly more vampire fics out there than werewolf fics #thought it would be the other way round #asks #earnestly answers

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hadeshermit · 3 years ago

Text

2021 Entrapdak Positivity Month: #01 Stars

A/N: consider this a gift to @flippingfrogg for inspiring me with their beautiful artwork, I hope you enjoy it! If so let me know and I'll consider continuing this series! <3

Life was not easy when work had to be done and people had to be pleased. Entrapta was stressed. The princesses wanted to get together at a party, and while she had no trouble attending one at times, especially to collect data of the interactions and to get the chance to enjoy a tiny mug of hot chocolate this was different.

She had been busy exploring the temples of the first ones for weeks, maybe even months, being so indulged in her studies she barely noticed the time flying by, and much less how the resentment of the other princesses grew towards her for not attending any social events.

The purple haired woman sighed, taking off her greasy gloves to replace them with new clean ones. She had no issue with getting dirty, certainly, but someone else sure did. The familiar grown of the Sea-Princess was something she heard miles away.

»Ughhh, I’m telling you guys, there’s no point. Geek-Princess won’t be attending, and honestly? I think that isn’t so bad either.«

»Mermista, stop.« It was the She-Ras voice. Adoras.

»Entrapta is our friend. She is also busy. We can’t expect her to drop everything just because we want to party. Sure, things have been going great for us lately, but the only reason I want Entrapta to attend is because I thought she might relax. If she has other ways of taking her time off, that’s great too! Whatever works for her, you know?«

»Yeah, whatever.« Silence.

Entrapta could not help but smile. Wider than usual. Listening to peoples chatter was always fascinating, she heard a lot more things than others gave her credit for. However, she discovered that hearing nice things about oneself when no one knew she could hear them felt especially good. Hearing Adora stick up for her was nice. It wasn’t that she disliked the other princesses, she actually felt very neutral about them, aside from Scorpia and Adora, it was just that she also did not consider them her friends. They were… Acquaintances at best. But she did not mind either.

Adora entered the room along with Mermista.

»Hey Entrapta! We uh— well we wanted to see how you were holding up and well, we wanted to invite you to a slumber party! Scorpia will be there!« Adoras smile seemed genuine, there was no annoyance or frustration in her eyes.

»I can’t.« Mermista groaned. Adora looked at the princess with disapproval which made her stop.

»You see, I’m almost having a breakthrough over here! I might be able to contact a creature the first ones considered a godly threat!«

»That’s uh— That’s nice Entrapta.« Adora was aware of how bad that sounded but… Once she made an effort to understand Entrapta, mainly with Scorpias help, she realised that Entrapta did not only care about science like others assumed. She was just very fixated on tasks that needed to be done, but would never endanger her friends.

»Well, I hope your project turns out successful, hm? Contact us if you need anything! I’ll be there immediately.« And Entrapta knew that she would stay true to her word.

»Thank you, Adora. It means a lot to me.« She waved them goodbye as they left her in the big, empty temple that once was used to worship a long forgotten deity.

Entrapta was certain, today was the day. She would make significant progress on her attempts. If only to prove that she could. She relaxed her shoulders, yawning and stretching her body to get rid of the exhaustion. Just one more crystal in place, and she was good to go. As the blue stone was placed on the altar that was build for it, it started glowing. By now night had fallen, so the temple that had been illuminated must've been visible miles away.

»Who dares to enter my sanctuary?!« A man’s voice growled through the hall, making the entire room rumble dangerously. Entraptas body was tense, not because she was scared, she was excited. It finally worked!

»Me! I mean, uhm— Me, God! My name is Entrapta, I am a scientist and—»

»Enough! Spare me your foolish chatter mortal! State your purpose!« The voice was still loud. Entrapta covered her ears.

»Well first of all: There is no reason to yell, see, I can hear you just fine. And second of all: I came because I wanted to meet you for so long!« Silence. Entrapta felt her hands shaking. The voice sounded a lot quieter the next time she heard it. Almost unsure.

»You wanted to meet me? For what purpose?« Entrapta nodded, not even knowing if the other being could see her since, well, she couldn’t see him either.

»Mainly for science!« It was quiet, so the woman kept talking:»You see, I have read so much about you! Not enough though, so I decided to contact you myself and ask about all the things that were written about you! You’re Hordak, the god of the stars, travel and technology right!? As a scientist I—« The next time she heard his voice it sounded rather pitiful.

»Leave then. I have nothing more to offer you. Your ancestors took everything they could, and left me with nothing, marking me as a beast that had to be sealed away once I was no longer useful.« Entrapta took a minute to understand what the god was telling her, but once it settled in, the excitement vanished. Not because she was asked to leave, well not mainly. It was because she knew that pain way too well. It made her sit down, her legs crossed.

»Want to talk about it?« Deafening silence.

»Are you mocking my pain, scientist?«

»No. I just wanted to reach for the stars and see the universe up close, but… Not if that means making you hurt.«

A pale figure seemed to appear at the altar. It was a blue haired creature with red intense eyes.

»That is rather curious…« Red robes were seemingly floating along the creatures body, covering the parts most etherians would consider indecent, the rest of the blue-ish skin was ever so visible.

»Why are you not running away? Are you not repulsed?«

»No.« She answered him honestly, and she could tell he liked that.

»So… You do want to talk about it. Care for a cup of hot chocolate? I should still have some left in my belongings!« The long blue hair fell upon his chest like a waterfall, when he tilted his head.

»I am curious about your hot chocolate.« He then admitted, slowly walking over to where she was sitting, though to her it seemed more like floating, before he sat down across from her.

Entraptas hair grabbed all the supplies needed.

»Great! Here you go, Hordak!« As she extended her hair that was holding the cup, the god took it, holding it ever so gently, that it made Entrapta think

he’s as fragile as a star, and desperately needs someone who admires him nonetheless.

As he took a sip, his pointy ears seemed to relax downwards, which made her smile a bit. Then he cleared his throat.

»You wanted to know about the stars, yes?«

#reddest_writing #reddest_sugesstions #entrapdak #Hordak #Entrapta #shera #adora is a sweetheart in this one and I won't apologise #spop #entrapdak positivity month #entrapdak fic #fanfiction

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onmykneesforhotdilfs · 4 years ago

Note

#Prompt 15 could be a good time 👀

You ask, i deliver🥰

"Each of my thoughts about you is improper."

Bloom sighed as she let the warm water of her bath wash away the five days worth of stress. She moaned as she submerged her body in almost boiling hot water, wet ends of her hair hanging over the edge of the bathtub. She closed her eyes and with a flick of her finger, the light in the bathroom turned off and strategically placed candles lit on fire giving the whole room romantic and relaxing atmosphere.

Her whole week has been spent running between planets in order to accommodate both pairs of her parents without having the other feeling left out. Not to mention the special training girls had to take in order to test their abilities to the maximum, training which was lead by Griselda. Even after so many years, that woman somehow always managed to make them nervous and she surely knew how to make their muscles quake in exhaustion after the practice. Between all those obligations, Bloom barely had energy to take a quick shower at the end of the day before she collapsed into her bed in Alfea. Sleep wouldn't catch up with her though, no matter how tired her body was.

Valtor was off doing some errands most of the days so the fact that she barely saw her boyfriend this week seemed to contribute to her bad mood and her insomnia.

Bloom couldn't remember the last time she felt so exhausted. Even the continuous fights against enemies of magic dimension never left her feeling so drained. If she was confident enough in herself not to drown, she wouldn't even leave this bath tonight. But as it is, she decided to enjoy the bath for as long as she could milk it, which in her case was, until the water got cold. She was fortunate enough that she managed to snag a night on Domino where she had a big enough bathtub to enjoy solitude.

Bloom was so engrossed in her thoughts, which could be the reason she didn't hear door of her room open, nor did she hear the shuffling of feet across the hardwood floor despite the fact bathroom door has been left open. A low wolf whistle made her jump, however, as she met the mischievous gray eyes of her boyfriend that stood leaning on a doorframe, seemingly enjoying the show.

"Now that's a sight for sore eyes."

Bloom sighed. "Though I appreciate the flattery, I'm pretty sure I look like I could work in a circus as a clown double right now."

Valtor raised one sharp eyebrow. "Do I need to have a chat with Faragonda about Griselda laying off a bit?"

Bloom shook her head. "No." Valtor came closer, his bare feet stepping into puddles that collected on the floor due to a steam. His eyes narrowed as he caught the sight of the bags underneath her eyes. "I've been having trouble sleeping this week. Maybe that's why I'm looking... awful."

Valtor came to sit at the edge of her bathtub. His fingers gently removed a wet lock from Bloom's unusually pale face. The bags underneath her eyes were indeed present, and it made her eyes look sunken and dull compared to its normal bright hue. "You're stunning, as always."

Bloom snorted. "Don't be getting any improper thoughts there mister."

Valtor stood up and took off his shirt in a single moment making Bloom's breath catch in her throat as low lights of candles perfectly accentuated his lean muscles. He was left standing in his signature purple pants but he showed no desire to remove them even as he gathered his hair in a messy bun at the top of his head and stepped into the bath behind Bloom.

Bloom squealed as the water spilled over the edge thanks to the added weight. Valtor pushed her forward a bit, making her bend her legs slightly as he settled himself comfortably behind her, still dressed in his pants. The water continued spilling over as he pulled Bloom to rest her back against his front, but all that Bloom could think about was the heart attack maids will get when one of them inevitably stumbles upon the mess. He leaned towards her, his abdominal muscles practically glued to her back as his hand removed the wet strands of her hair from her shoulders and neck.

He trailed a path of gentle, barely there, kisses across her collarbone. "Don't you know?" He spoke in a low voice that made butterflies scatter all across Bloom's lower abdomen.

"Know what?" She didn't sound breathless, that's what she kept telling herself as Valtor's hands started massaging her shoulders gently.

"Each of my thoughts about you is improper."

Bloom gasped as Valtor's hands started roaming across her chest, his skillful fingers dancing across her skin and lighting her on fire. The butterflies in her abdomen seemed to have evaporated into a pool of steaming hot want, and she gripped the edge of the bath as she felt the heat rushing south. His name was a prayer on her lips as he continued placing feather light kisses where he could reach. His hands slipped underneath the water, one of them around her waist, supporting her as the other one continued its path towards the place she needed him the most.

Valtor avoided the place she wanted him to touch and instead he gripped the soft flesh of her inner thigh as Bloom moaned and threw her head back, giving Valtor more access to her neck. With her head resting on his shoulder, he took the opportunity to explore the thin column of her neck, sucking a bruise to the place he knew clothes wouldn't be able to cover. The thumb of his hand that supported her waist grazed the excited flesh with every movement and Bloom's toes clenched in anticipation.

She heard Valtor chuckle next to her ear, his teeth gently nibbling on the shell, the sound sending bolts of lightning all across her body. She gripped the flesh of his arm as his fingers came dangerously close to her core, but not close enough to alleviate her of the frenzy she found herself in. How he managed to make her so worked up in such short period of time was a complete mystery to her. The flame in her chest burned brighter every time his fingers danced across an erogenous zone but failed to stick around long enough to be anything but a teasing graze.

"Please." It wasn't necessarily the plea as much as the needy, desperate tone of her voice that made Valtor give in and finally place his hand where she desperately needed him to touch her. At the first touch of hot fingers against the wet flesh, Bloom's hips snapped upwards, her spine curved as she let a small, breathless "Fuck yes." slip between her lips. The temperature in the bathroom rose for several degrees as Valtor spoke encouraging things against the skin of Bloom's cheek, the friction his fingers caused forcing her to curve in a way that allowed her maximum contact. At the end, it was the combined effort his touches provided together with his voice telling her to let go, that made her snap like a string of coiled rubber band. The tension broke as waves of ecstasy rushed across her body, her toes clenching as she sobbed softly while Valtor's fingers continued gliding across her skin. She collapsed, utterly boneless, against his chest when the final bolt of pleasure ran through her, making her twitch.

She closed her eyes under the thick mist of blissful silence and endorphin rush, Valtor's voice in her ear seemingly miles away. She felt the water disappearing around her as the feeling of being lifted into the air reached her. She instinctively wrapped her legs around Valtor as he carried her outside, the air turning dry and slightly cold against her heated skin. Her eyes stayed closed even as he muttered a quick spell to dry them both off and lower her onto the bed. She listened as he finally got rid of his pants and shuffled quietly to the bed before slipping in as carefully as possible.

Valtor wrapped his arms around her protectively as Bloom snuggled deeper into his chest. The last thought that ran through her head before she finally slipped into the unconsciousness was that perhaps, it was him, or lack of him in this case, that caused her to loose sleep.

#sparxshipping #bloom x valtor #baltor x bloom #bloom x baltor #valtor x bloom #winx club #bloom #valtor #winx #winx bloom #sparxshipping requests #sparxshipping questions #sparxshipping prompts #sparxshipping smut #sparxshipping fluff

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Text

Cut Myself Shaving.

Stuntman Mike (Death Proof) x reader

Warnings: death, violence, injury, swearing , mention of nsfw

Context: Mike has a little helper in case things go awry.

A/n: I watched Death Proof yesterday and now I'm obsessed with Kurt Russell's character in it...he's such a creep but he's charming at the same time and for some reason that means I'm attracted to him 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ basically, I need help 🤡😅

Masterlist

"Fucking idiot." I curse to myself as I watch the two cars speed past me, both battered and in desperate need of new paint jobs, dust flying out behind them. From my carefully hidden spot in a side road, I can easily tell that my friend's plan hasn't worked: the white car is pursuing the familiar black one, one of the passengers - the blonde woman - leaning from the window, screaming and shouting at their quarry. It sends a wave of irritation through me, that the bastard would get as sloppy as he has done in recent months. His...habits...have always annoyed me (it's totally unnecessary and it means I have to watch him go after beautiful young girls) but he gave me a job out of it, so I never say anything. Somewhere along the line, he managed to fuck up, and picked me as his next target, only to find that when he tried to outdrive me, I drove much better than he did, with just as little care for what happens to the car as he has. The fucker let me in on his secret and I've been his backup ever since, in case anyone ever gets in the way of his little game.

Now, it seems, I'm gonna have my work cut out for me.

Cursing again, I put the car into drive and gun it down the road, staying hidden behind a treeline, quickly moving through gears with smooth rapidity. Hanging onto the steering, I keep my breathing relaxed as the tyres screech beneath the speeding vehicle, my foot slamming down on the accelerator to get me level with my own targets. Engine roaring, the car jerks and bounces on the rough road surface, my harness keeping me from going through the windscreen a couple of times, the whole vehicle vibrating underneath me.

Glancing out of my window every few seconds, I make sure I know where Mike and his pursuers are, swearing colourfully to myself as I realise that they're headed towards a busy main road, meaning it'll be harder for me to keep my presence unknown. In my head, I make a note to scold the stuntman for it later, planning a new route as I go, smirking as I figure out exactly how I'm going to save his sorry ass.

For once, I'm glad I looked at and memorized maps of the surrounding area, plus the construction records (I get a lot of free time) so I know what's coming up on this road, the split coming into view just as I expect it to. Taking the left road, I take a deep breath and slam my foot onto the accelerator, pressing a button on the steering wheel. Immediately, a new, more powerful thrum in the engine below me comes to life, growling like some rabid animal as the car springs forwards, the speed dial tapping uselessly at the far end of the spectrum.

Unable to help myself, I let out a cry of exhilaration, hanging onto the steering wheel as I take a bend far too fast, the wheels skidding slightly, only to straighten again under my expertise. With my new route in sight, I grin wildly and brace myself, listening to the car roar at me as I gun it over the edge of the roadside.

The ground falls away beneath me, the car hurtling through the air towards a similar break in the road down below, where the two cars are just lifting off of the ground, going at a slower speed than mine but posing no less threat. My hands grip the wheel tightly, stomach dropping as the car starts to tip forwards, my muscles tensing in anticipation of what I know is coming.

Time seems to slow as I near them, my pulse pounding deafeningly in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me with the knowledge of what comes next. Staring through the windshield, I feel a smirk of satisfaction cross my face as one of the passengers of the white car turns and sees me, an expression of absolute fear and panic contorting her beautiful features, her eyes wide even as her mouth opens into a scream…

The cars slam into each other violently, the impact throwing me forwards into the harness, the straps jerking me back into my seat. My head falls forwards, heading for the steering wheel, though I manage to get my hands up before anything can happen, despite my knowledge that the safety harness will keep me from sustaining any real damage. Painful lines circle my arms and lap now from the straps, the wind knocked out of me from the sheer force of the collision. Glass flies into the car itself, the windows and windscreens of both vehicles shattering as we go hurtling towards the ground, many shards scraping over my bare arms and hands, leaving bloody wounds in their wakes.

The second impact throws me forwards again, my lungs struggling to force air into my body as the cars smash into the ground, rolling over each other roughly. Holding my arms closer to my body, I lift my hands up to protect my face, grunting as my shoulder is slammed against the side door. Nausea floods my system as the cars continue to roll a few times, my vision blurring over until we eventually come to a complete stop, mine resting just beside theirs.

Taking a moment, I regain my composure, breathing deeply to fight off the shock threatening to overwhelm me, ignoring the violent tremor in my hands as I scramble for the buckle of the harness. Blood on my fingertips makes it hard for me to grip the clean metal, the digits slipping off of it a few times before I can unclasp myself, pain rapidly spreading through me as the adrenaline starts to wear off. Having unbuckled myself, I try the door beside me, sighing in relief as it comes open under my hands, allowing me to leave the death trap that is the wreckage.

As I climb out, I grab my first aid kit from the glove compartment, hobbling from my trusty car with a slight sense of bitterness, knowing what I'll have to do to make sure Mike and I really are out of trouble. Glancing back at the main road, I'm glad to find that the crash site is not visible to the road users, so what I'll do now won't get me in any grief if someone were to see me.

Approaching the crumpled white Dodge, I stoop down to look through the passenger window (the car is upside down), lifting an eyebrow as I realise the occupants are still alive...somehow. As I get closer, the passenger feebly looks up at me, confusion trying to creep into her agonized expression.

"Wh-who are you?" She croaks out, her voice totally shot.

Managing a cruel smirk, I reach into my pocket and bring out a box of matches, taking one out for her to see.

"The Devil's sidekick." I rasp at her, relishing in the confusion in her eyes, watching as it turns to realisation and horror as I strike the match, lighting it.

Straightening, I ignore her pleas for mercy, stepping away as I throw the match at the warped hood, adding a second to the undercarriage for good measure, knowing the fuel will catch soon enough. With some difficulty, I limp away from the two cars, getting about ten metres away before a deafening crack splits the air, the wreckage going up in flames in mere seconds. Now it's just a matter of finding my way to the person I've destroyed my car for.

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long to find him, though when I do, I have to fight back a sound of exasperation.

Stuntman Mike has pulled over into a deserted side road, just a mile down the main road, making sure he's well hidden, though the amount he's screaming and crying isn't going to keep him like that for long. He's still in his car, but he's left the window open so I can hear every sound of agony and frustration he's making, my heart tugging slightly at the cries of pain. Sighing, I make my way over, holding onto the roof of the car for support as my leg finally gives a little, my face twisting into a grimace. I must've made some noise when I did so, as Mike suddenly shouts in horror, the car engine starting to splutter as he tries to get the beaten vehicle to move again. Quickly, I reach the open window, which I now realise is smashed in, grabbing hold of it and ducking to look into the interior.

"It's me! Mike, calm down, it's me! (Y/n)!" I reassure him as he turns terror-stricken eyes on me, his face pale and bloodied from a blow to his cheek.

"(Y/n)? What happened to you?" He breathes out, eyes roaming over me as he realises back into his seat, only to tense in pain again.

"Cut myself shaving." I mutter in response, pulling the door open and moving to help him out, having noticed that he's in worse shape than I thought he'd be.

Taking his weight, I bite back a sound of discomfort as my leg protests, my shoulder aching from where it connected with my car but I ignore it, dragging him from the driver's seat. Slinging his arm over my shoulders, I help him hobble over to a nearby rock, setting him down on it with a sigh, standing back to look him over, glad I brought my first aid kit now.

The stuntman is cradling his left arm, where a patch of his t-shirt has come away to reveal bloodied skin, his face splattered with the crimson stuff. Purple bruising blooms on one cheek, curling up over his gnarled scar and around his weaker eye, skin grazed away in places from the ferocity of the blow. He looks thoroughly shaken, eyes wide, breaths coming hard and fast, body trembling with the fading adrenaline.

Sighing, I go closer, kneeling beside the rock he's sat on to look at his injuries, looking up at him as I reach out to touch his arm. Reluctantly, he nods, his ego bruised as I gently place a hand on his bicep.

"Careful, I'm pretty sure it's broken." He murmurs, wincing as I feel over the tensed muscles, trying not to get too distracted by the proximity.

"Yeah, got it." I mumble, chewing my lip in consternation, "You're gonna have to take this off."

Gesturing to his shirt, I lean forwards to help him out of the garment, pulling it carefully over his head. Mike gives me a slightly embarrassed look, but I dismiss it and open the first aid kit, swallowing as I look over his torso. For a guy his age he's really not a bad looking guy - the man has stayed somewhat in shape over the years - making it hard to concentrate, especially as I realise I'm going to have to kneel between his legs in order to get to the wound properly.

Blushing, I pull some gauze and rubbing alcohol out of the kit, taking up a position between his thighs where I can easily reach the bloody puncture wound in his shoulder. He watches me closely as I reach up and feel over his back for an exit wound, glad to find one even as he tenses and hisses under my touch. Knowing I need to work quickly, I get started, cleaning up the puncture as best I can, wiping away blood enough so that I can plug the hole and tape it up, sticking a bandage over it. I go to repeat this on his other side, working quickly.

"How the hell did you get shot?" I ask him after a moment, finding the silence between us awkward.

"One of those bitches pulled a gun on me. Shot at me a couple of times, before it hit me. Hurts like a bitch." Mike explains, hissing again as I prod the wound a little too hard.

"She pulled a gun? How did you even get close enough?" I'm confused as to his story, having only seen that it ended in him being chased onto the freeway.

Allowing me to continue working on his injuries, Mike recites his version of events, voice strained in pain and fatigue, eyes never leaving me as I move around him, cleaning up his scrapes and bruises. After a while, I end up at his face, carefully dabbing at a few grazes with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. Standing this close to him, I can feel his every breath on my cheek, vaguely aware of the fingers clutching at my jacket every now and then as I go over a particularly painful spot, my pulse picking up slightly.

"...next thing I know, you're at my window looking like you just walked through hell." He finishes, licking his lips to wet them again as he pulls his shirt back on.

"Feels like I did." I laugh dryly, leaning back as I finish on his face, "I'll be back in a sec, hang on."

Quickly, I limp over to his car again, rifling through his things in the compartment by his seat before pulling a small bottle from the rubbish. Going back to him, I stand in front of him and hold it up.

"Mind if I…?" I gesture to him, pointing at his arm, which I've now put in a sling to keep out of harm's way.

The stuntman nods, tilting his head back as I step into his personal space again, standing between his legs. Carefully, I open the bottle and lean over him, gently placing a hand on his face to steady myself, trying not to let the butterflies in my stomach disturb me as his blue pupils fix on me. Slowly, I drip a few drops into his eyes, using a thumb to wipe away any stray droplets, almost smiling as he leans into my touch slightly. I pull away reluctantly, screwing the bottle back up and chucking it at the first aid kit before I take a seat beside him, inadvertently sitting close enough that our thighs are touching.

Sighing, I reach into my pocket, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and removing one, offering them to him as I grab the box of matches from before again. He doesn't take one, saying something about sharing mine, watching me closely as I light it. Taking the first breath of smoke, I close my eyes and enjoy the burning of the cloud entering my lungs, slowly breathing it out again a moment later. Wordlessly, I hand the smoke to him, willing to share with him as I've always done, keeping my eyes closed for now.

After a while, Mike hands the cigarette back, letting me take it as I stay blinded, placing the roll of paper and tobacco between my lips to puff on it languidly. It's not too long after that I feel a hand gingerly come to rest on my knee. Confused, I keep my eyes closed, not minding the contact and curious to see where this goes, holding back a gasp as he moves the strong grip further up my leg, closing his fingers over my thigh. A rustle and stifled grunt of pain alerts me to his movements, though it still shocks me a little as he leans in to smooth some hair from my face, removing the grip from my leg. Opening my eyes again, I look over at him, surprised to see him gazing at me with an intense expression on his face.

Upon seeing me look, he cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone in a gentle manner I've never seen him display. I don't know what comes over me, but I suddenly find myself talking.

"Please don't do anything like that again." I murmur, voice quiet, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

Mike looks taken aback, shock clouding his features as he regards me, as if he never expected this level of closeness with me.

"Please, Mike. I don't know why, or how, but I've come to care about you, and I couldn't bear it if you weren't around." I inform him, looking down in embarrassment, blushing furiously.

It's quiet for a long moment, before he suddenly leans in closer, breath ghosting over my face until he seals my lips with his. Tenderly, the stuntman kisses me, gently coaxing me into moving with him, one hand slipping round to tangle in my hair. Shocked, I feel my eyes close in surprised pleasure, body melting into him as he pulls me closer, our lips moving in perfect sync, his slightly rougher ones warm against my softer ones. It's not long before I feel his tongue slip out to flick against my lower lip, but before I can open up for him, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.

"I'll be more careful, I swear." He hums, stroking back my hair with his good hand, "For you, I'll be careful."

Smiling, I lean back in, kissing him softly on the lips, moving with him as he gently encourages me to sit on his lap, my legs straddling his as he wraps his arm around me. Pulling me flush against him, he kisses me passionately, swallowing the sounds of pleasure leaving me, splaying his hand on my back as I card mine through his thick hair. This time as he licks at my lips, I let him in immediately, letting the slick muscle slide inside to explore and rub alongside my own. Avoiding his bad arm, I moan into the kiss and pull on his hair, eliciting a groan from him.

He pulls away again after some time, staring into my eyes with a care and love I've never seen in them before, my heart skipping a beat as he smiles up at me, a genuine smile. Not his usual scheming smirk.

"Come on, let's go home. I wanna show you just how careful I can be." Mike smirks, his hand skimming down to squeeze a handful of my ass, making my hips rock forwards suddenly into his. He groans, helping me stand.

With his words in mind, I help him over to the car, opening the back door for him to climb in.

"I'm not letting you drive with one arm, and this is safer than the passenger's seat." I say as he shoots me a questioning look.

Mike shrugs and mutters an agreement, climbing into the seat behind me, waiting for me to get into the driver's seat and fasten myself in before talking again.

"What happened to your car?" He asks, his good hand reaching round to run his fingers over my arm.

"Used it to blow up those bitches coming after you." I inform him, somewhat saddened by the loss of the vehicle - I had loved it.

"Thanks, sugar." He says, using his favourite nickname, most likely aware of the effect it has on me, especially as I feel him lean closer to the back of the seat, nosing at the side of my neck. Deftly, his tongue flicks out to lick over my pulse point, lips pressing against it to suck a mark, there drawing a moan from me.

"Gonna have to get you a new car, hm?" He almost purrs into my ear, biting my ear lobe before retreating again.

Feeling heat rushing to my core, I reluctantly put the car into drive and start to pull away, going slow as I wait for him to settle back into his seat and buckle himself up.

"That would be great." I chuckle, shakily.

"Yeah, it will be. Means I'll have somewhere else to fuck you besides mine and the bed." I blanch at his lewd words, feeling a heated need explode inside me at the idea of what he's suggesting.

As I pull away, I can't help but go faster than usual, using all my expertise to get us home as quickly as possible.

Tag list- @feirceangel @xlmonster-mashlx

#Death Proof #death proof #Stuntman Mike #Stuntman Mike x reader #Stuntman Mike imagine #Kurt Russell #Kurt Russell imagine #Quentin Tarantino #break writes

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bruhlsbees · 4 years ago

Text

it was real enough || baron helmut zemo x heike zemo

summary: heike zemo spends her last moments with her son, carl, and father-in-law, heinrich, before the battle of sokovia

pairing: baron helmut zemo x heike zemo

warnings: i always say angst but this one is for real gonna rip your heart out, major character death, heike clinging to carl in their last moments, sad phone call that ends too soon

word count: 3,502

a/n: based on this set of sentences specifically "it was real enough", in mcu zemo's wife's name is not said, so i went with her comic name of heike, also according to his mcu fandom wiki - zemo's son's name is carl!

May 4, 2015.

“Don’t worry. They’re fighting in the city. We’re miles from harm.” Helmut whispered, holding his wife’s delicate face in his hands, stroking her cheekbones before resting his own forehead against hers.

Heike grasped onto Helmut’s hands, closing her eyes as she embraced her husband, “I know...I know, but the sounds of gunfire- the screaming, Carl can’t sleep well, Helmut...I don’t know what to do.” She didn’t try and hold back her tears as Helmut kissed her face, peppering slow and gentle kisses as he listened to her sniffle, crying quietly, “I wish we could leave...go somewhere...anywhere!”

“I know, I know. I wish we could, but it’ll be over soon. Yes? You and Carl will be safe here with my father. He will take care of you while I’m gone and until I return, and then we will leave. Perhaps Latvia? Carl enjoys the sun there.”

Running his hands down Heike’s arms, Helmut squeezed her elbows, watching as she slowed her breathing, calming herself down before nodding in agreement, “Yes, I would enjoy that.”

Helmut leaned forward, kissing his wife once more before letting out a shaky sigh, not wanting to leave her. “Please, Helmut...please come home. I can’t lose you.” Heike admitted, her voice cracking.

To him, Helmut thought this was just a temporary departure, hugging his wife tight against him as he whispered sweet reassurances into her ear as he always did. Little did he know, this would be the last.

Before Helmut left to join the others of the EKO Scorpion squad, he stood in the doorway, doing his best to stay strong as his father held his wife and son, doing his equal best to stay strong. Heike and Carl, on the other hand, were not holding themselves together - he couldn’t blame them though, if it weren’t for his own bundle of nerves that were forcing him to stay calm, he probably would be in the same boat as them.

Kneeling to his son’s height, Helmut pulled Carl in for one last hug, holding him close as he cradled his head in his hands, “You look after your mother and grandfather for me while I’m gone. Can you do that, my brave boy?”

Nodding, Carl squeezed his father tight, his sniffles calming him down for the moment, leaning into his father’s kiss against his head before pulling back with him. Watching as his father stood, Carl stumbled back into his mother’s grasp, squeezing her tight as he buried his face into her side, crying into her shirt.

Helmut wished he could stay, to be with his family, but he knew that he had to go - he had to help protect Sokovia and make sure that his family would see the end of this. Feeling the tugs on his heart as he turned, Helmut forced himself to exit the home, closing the door behind him. When the door clicked shut, he heard Carl’s sobs break out, flinching at how painful they sounded. He wanted so desperately to turn and run back inside, but his walkie crackled on, turning his attention back to joining the other members of his squad.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

May 6, 2015.

The night had been filled with screaming and crying throughout the city of Novi Grad. Heike tried so desperately to ignore the sounds of gunfire and explosion, but it seemed the harder she tried, the louder they became.

Sleep for Heike did not come - not since the beginning of the fallout. Laying in bed with Carl, Heike held her son close, rubbing his back and kissing his head as he slept, flinching occasionally. Heike tried to hold back the grunts as Carl would kick her in his worst fits.

If Helmut were here, he would know what to do.

Blinking away tears, Heike sighed and looked over Carl to see the sun begin to peek through the curtains. Deciding that she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, Heike pulled herself away from Carl who was clinging to her, gently moving out of the bed and down the hall to the kitchen.

Heike avoided looking out the windows, not wanting to see the damage the city endured in just the one night. She knew it couldn’t be good, judging by the troubling noises that were heard all night and into the morning. If she were to look out the window, her mind would go to Helmut - wondering where he was in all this and if he would return.

Opening the cupboard, Heike pulled down a teacup and prepped to make a pot of cherry blossom tea, blinking away tears as the water boiled.

“So, what is your poison?”

Heike smiled at Helmut from across the table, the light tune from the piano brought the atmosphere down. The restaurant would soon be closing, but the two didn’t have any plans to leave anytime soon.

Scooping a slice from the cake the two were sharing, Heike, put the fluffy chocolate dessert in her mouth, blushing and shaking her head. “It’s silly...but...I love cherry blossom tea.”

Helmut couldn’t help but smile at the confession, not expecting it to be so innocent. Here he was, planning on inviting her to go get drinks, only to find out that her own personal poison was not liquor, but tea.

“Cherry blossom tea? I would have never taken you for the cherry blossom type of lady.” Helmut teased, stealing the last bite of cake before placing his spoon on the plate.

Heike couldn’t help but giggle, putting her spoon on the plate as well before shrugging, “I never was too fond of hard drinks. I always enjoyed a warm cup of tea. Sometimes with a turkish delight, if I was feeling adventurous.”

She couldn’t believe it, but she actually got cheeky and winked at him. They had been going on a few dates now, so this wasn’t too forward, but for her, this wasn’t in the norm. Heike was rather reserved, but with Helmut, something came out in her.

Reaching across the table, Helmut took Heike’s hand into his, squeezing her soft hand into his rougher one, “Turkish delights? My, aren’t you the rebel.” He teased, grinning at her when he noticed her cheeks going more red.

The sound of the kettle whistling pulled Heike from her thoughts, quickly pulling the kettle from the stove to calm down before placing on the cooler burner. Placing a cherry blossom tea bag in her cup, Heike poured the boiling water over the bag and felt her body relax when the scent of cherry blossom hit her.

When she settled the kettle back down, she picked up the tea cup, not noticing how shaky she was until the light clattering of the cup hit against the plate. Choking back the sob, Heike felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, unable to take a drink of the tea.

She pushed the tea cup back onto the counter, burying her face into her hands to muffle her crying, not wanting to wake up Carl or Helmut’s father, Heinrich, as it was still fairly early. She had been holding in her tears for so long, her worries over where Helmut was at that moment stuffed down. Heike only wanted to make sure that Carl was okay, forgetting her own delicate state of mind.

Heike’s tears continued to fall, soon unable to even bite down on her lip to muffle her cries. What she was not expecting, however, was to be pulled into such a tender embrace.

When she recognized that it was Heinrich, Heike wrapped her arms around the larger man’s middle, sobbing into his chest as he held her, stroking her hair.

“Shh, Heike, it’s okay. It’s okay. He will be back soon.” Heinrich assured, humming lowly to try and take her mind off of the situation. Heinrich was very fond of his family, adoring his daughter-in-law and grandson. He knew this was hard on the both of them, with Helmut being gone, and he felt it was only fair to do what Helmut would do if he were here for them.

After a few long moments, giving Heike the time to calm herself down, Heinrich felt Heike pull back, sniffling as she wiped away her tears from her face and her nose. “Thank you…” She whispered quietly, her voice cracking from the painful sobs.

Smiling, Heinrich tucked Heike’s hair behind her ears and kissed the top of her head, “Carl needs his mother now more than ever, but that does not mean you cannot have your moments to break down. Even the strongest still need their moments.”

Nodding in understandment, Heike looked up at Heinrich and smiled, looking down at the counter to collect her tea once again, this time taking a sip of the warm liquid. The warmth calmed her down enough for her to catch her breath, processing what Heinrich had told her before taking another deep sip, finishing the cup. Heike set the empty cup on the counter before making her way towards the window. She knew she shouldn’t have looked out the curtain, but her curiosity got the best of her.

When she saw the damage unfold beneath her, her heart sank. She couldn’t imagine the lives lost, the damage it caused for everyone, all while the Avengers were doing what they thought was for the best. She didn’t hate them, no, she knew they were doing what they thought was best - but she couldn’t help but wonder if they ever stopped to think about how their actions would affect the towns they fought in?

“Carl will probably be waking up soon, perhaps I should make us something to eat?” Heinrich offered, approaching Heike and placing a gentle hand onto her shoulder, pulling her away from the window.

Pulled from the window, along with her thoughts, Heike looked up at Heinrich and nodded, “Yes, that sounds lovely, I’ll go get Carl...I just- I have to make a call first.”

Heike excused herself from the kitchen and made her way down the hall and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her before she sat on the toilet, opening her phone and scrolling until she found Helmut’s contact, pressing the ‘call’ icon and putting the phone to her ear.

She knew that Helmut wouldn’t answer, couldn’t answer, she had tried just last night, asking when he would be home and trying to pretend in some sad way that everything was fine. This time, though, she knew she wouldn’t be able to pretend.

“Helmut...my love...it’s me again,” Heike began, steadying her voice before continuing, “I know you’re not able to talk right now and I’m sorry if this is interfering in any sort of way but I-” She paused, feeling herself being to choke up before she took a deep breath, “I just wanted to call and tell you that I love you. It’s silly to say over the phone, through a voicemail, but I fear something might happen that we both did not see coming...I know, I know I shouldn’t be talking this way, but one of us has to be realistic. Of course, I am praying, praying to anyone out there that this nightmare will be over, and soon you’ll be back in bed with me, but so far nobody has heard my prayers.” The tears that fell from her cheeks began to fall freely now, unable to be contained. Heike did her best to try and stop, to collect herself for the remaining seconds she had, but she just fought through them. “My only prayer now is that you return home safely...alive and well. I don’t care if you come back with a missing leg or in a coma - I’ll take care of you Helmut, I will, I just want you back. I need you back. Okay? I need to go now, but I just wanted to call and tell you how much I-”

The call dropping made Heike’s stomach sink. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she stared at the screen and stared mortified as the voicemail timed out. Her face contorted, squishing up as she let out another cry, holding herself tight as the emotions took over her body.

The knock at the door was drowned by the sounds of her cries, it wasn’t until she heard Carl’s sweet voice that brought her to.

“Mama? Are you in there?”

Sniffling, Heike wiped her face and moved to the door, unlocking it and opening it up before staring down at Carl, his hair messy and still in his pyjamas. He had a concerned expression on his look, one that matched Helmut’s all too well.

“Were you crying?” He asked innocently, reaching his hands up to feel the wet spots on her face. Heike could only sigh, dropping to his height as she knew lying wouldn’t help him, “Yes, my dear. I was...but I’m okay now. Okay? I am just missing your papa is all.”

Pulling Carl in for a hug, Heike held her son close, rubbing his back as he squeezed the fabric of her shirt, “When will Papa come home?” He asked sweetly.

“Soon, my dear, soon. Once he is done helping Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers, he will come home.” She smiled, feeling Carl grow giddy at the mention of the Avengers and specifically Iron Man, before clinging to his mother tighter.

“Your grandfather is making us breakfast, why don’t we go join him so he doesn’t eat alone?”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The night came quickly for the Zemo family - along with the growing destruction of Novi Grad. The streets below began to pile with cars and waste from the buildings and Heinrich went so far as to board up the windows after witnessing someone fall to their death. Whether it was purposeful or not, Heinrich wouldn’t allow Carl nor Heike to see the horrors of war - ‘least not more than they already saw.

The three of them were laying in bed together, watching old movies that were on some VHS tapes that Heike found in the closet. Carl, fast asleep in her arms, clung to his mother’s waist, while Heike, slowly began to doze off. She hadn’t been paying too much to the movie, in fact, she didn’t even know what exactly was playing, but she was happy to have enjoyed the peaceful moment, despite everything going on outside their home.

Unfortunately, the horrors did not end, and their peaceful night was soon ruined. The blood-curdling scream woke Carl awake, sending him into a crying fit while Heike held him, doing her best to calm him down while Heinrich held them both, consoling them as what he feared most soon approached them.

“I don’t want to die…” Heike whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks as she kept Carl’s face buried into her stomach. She looked up at her father-in-law, eyes red as she shook her head. Heinrich could only frown, not knowing what to say other than pull her close, letting her cry into his chest. As a realist himself, Heinrich knew the possibility of the building they were in to be targeted was high, but there was still a part of him that wished for the alternative.

The flames that flickered outside the windows signaled that there was sadly no way out. He didn’t want his grandson, nor daughter-in-law to have to go out in such a painful way, so he did what he believed was the only thing he could do - hold them close and sing a lullaby.

Heike’s face was buried tightly into Heinrich’s chest, Carl’s in his mother’s. The sound of Heinrich singing an infamous Sokovian lullaby calmed them enough to not think so hard as to what was going on around them. As the flames rose and the song continued, what came next was more painful than seeing a child cry - but the death of a child itself.

While the heavy concrete collapsed on them, they were fortunate enough to not feel the pain, dying on the direct hit. Even though there was no pain, the three still lost their lives, not having a single chance of survival - which perhaps was harder than the hit.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

May 8, 2015.

Helmut had been digging for two days. Two days since the initial end of the battle when he returned home to find the building in pieces and when the smoke cleared enough for him to be able to search. He had been told that there was no use in searching, that it would take too long to find them and he didn’t need to go through that pain...but Helmut had to be the one, he wouldn’t sit back while some stranger dug to find his family’s bodies for him.

He ignored the painful cuts that dug into his palms, the numbness in his body a shield against the physical pain he was enduring. Helmut picked up piece by piece, tossing it over his side as he furiously dug deeping into the rubble, searching for any sign of his family. He hardly slept, continuing to dig deeper in the area he imagined his family to be. The surviving members of his squad became worried quickly, unsure as to what to do in this situation. They hadn’t lost families, ‘least not in the way that Helmut lost his. Nobody could understand what he was going through, and while they wanted to help, it became clear that Helmut found it worse to have help than do it on his own.

By the early afternoon of the second day, his motions began to slow, becoming weaker as the time went on. Helmut knew he couldn’t give up though, he wouldn’t, not until he found their bodies. It was a sad prayer really, asking whomever to let him at least find their bodies, but it was one he partially wished never came true - for he wished that his family had never died in the first place.

What stopped his movements was the arm sticking out of the rubble. He recognized the watch as being his father’s and his breathing stopped, catching in his throat. This was it, this was what he had been searching for, yet at the same time was dreading. Quickly moving the rubble off of them, Helmut let out a cry when he finally uncovered the bodies, seeing his father holding his delicate wife, and his wife holding their precious son.

He didn’t know who, but one of his squad members quickly rushed to him, pulling him off the bodies as he Helmut threw himself over them, ignoring the painfully obvious state they were in. The squad member held Helmut in his arms, letting the man cry as medical members carefully made their way up onto the rubble, doing their best to carefully collect the bodies and placing them in bags to be taken away.

Helmut’s eyes stayed on the bags, watching as they were loaded into trucks and taken to the nearest area for body collection and identification after the war’s aftermath. He felt his heart racing, his head resting against his friend’s chest as he blood soon boiled.

This was their fault. The Avengers, of all places they could have chosen, decided to come to Sokovia, their home, and destroy it. Destroyed their city, their homes, and families. Glaring into the distance, Helmut continued to let the tears run silent down his cheeks. He could picture his family’s death playing in his head. How scared they must have been and for him to be where? ‘Helping’ the Avengers as they hardly helped them.

And where were they now? The Avengers? Gone. Back to their own cities, their own homes, and families. And where did that leave Sokovia? The place they decided to play war at? In ruins...destroyed into nothing - leaving Sokovia and it’s people lost and without a home.

Closing his eyes, Helmut turned his head and rested his face against his friend’s chest, clinging to the front of his shirt before letting out a painful scream, soon faltering back into sobs.

Helmut would miss Heike’s hair, how soft it felt when it finally dried after being washed.

He would miss the sound of Carl’s laughter, how eager he was to be ‘just like his papa’.

Helmut would even miss his father’s awful snoring, and how Heike would always do her best to not be frustrated in the morning when Heinrich would ask how everyone slept.

No longer would he be able to kiss his family and hold them close, but only have the memories of their souls and the voice messages to hear the sweet sounds of their voices.

This was the only way now that Helmut had any way of being with his family, through the memories. It was real enough to get by, to feel comfort while alone, but it wasn’t real enough to move on.

#daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #baron helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo imagine #zemo imagine #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #heike zemo #carl zemo

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wincestation · 4 years ago

Text

Just Tonight

Prompt: Stanford Era

Pairing: Sam x Dean

Summery: Inspired by the song "Just Tonight" by The Pretty Reckless. Sam drunk-dials Dean in the middle of the night and tells him he needs him, but after a year apart, is one night enough?

Word Count: 2,059

Written For the SPN Trope Round Robin 2021 (@spn-trope-round-robin) - Round 3 (Remix/Inspired By).

A/N: My first SPN writing challenge ever! I really enjoyed this one. Hope you do too! also, @stanfordsweater your brand is in there for a moment ;)

Read on ao3

Sam’s world is narrowed down to the sound of the dial tone. He waits in the cold, his breath forming visible little clouds. Finally, someone picks up on the other end.

“Sam.” he sighs heavily. “It’s 2am. On a Wednesday.”

Good, Sam thinks. He’s in the same time zone as me. “Dean, I need you.”

“What?” Behind Dean’s voice, Sam can hear the engine of the Impala rumbling to a halt in the background and the familiar sound almost makes him cry. “What do you need me for?”

That question has too many answers, and Sam can’t think straight, he just knows he’s cold and alone and tired and he needs his brother. “I need you to take me home,” he says in a pathetic, tiny voice, leaning against a tree to keep his head from spinning.

Dean tries to sound sympathetic, Sam knows this, but his words come out patronizing. “Can’t you get a cab or something? Or... walk?”

“Dean, please.”

“It’ll take me forever. I’m in bed.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in the car.” He feels sick. Dean never lied to him before.

His brother might be thinking the same thing, because he doesn’t reply.

“C’mon, De, please.” Sam is begging but he doesn’t care, he’s the one who left, he’s the one who hurt Dean, and if Dean wants him to beg, he will. He’ll do anything. “Start the car and take me home.”

“You’re drunk.” Dean says in disbelief.

Sam slides into the Impala and slouches against the seat. “And a bit high,” he confirms.

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” and Sam knows he meant it as a joke, but he can’t say anything because the lump in his throat threatens to overflow if he does. He gives Dean the directions and leans his head on his brother's shoulder, ignoring the voice of reason that screams at him to stop making a fool of himself.

If Dean minds, he doesn’t show it. He drives slower than usual, as if he doesn’t want this ride to end, and for a few minutes, Sam lets himself feel a little hope.

The car stops too soon. “Looks like we’re here,” Dean says. It’s an unnecessary comment just to break the silence and Sam drags his pounding head away from his brother’s shoulder.

When he doesn’t move, Dean adds, “Need me to walk you inside?”

Sam nods. “Please,” and Dean agrees, because he could never say no to his little brother.

They both blink when Dean turns on the living room light. Sam groans and sinks into the couch while Dean looks around.

“Nice place. How can you afford - “ he stops abruptly and Sam raises his head.

Dean is holding a framed picture of Sam and Jessica, both smiling happily at the camera. She’s wearing his Stanford sweater - the one he has on right now, in fact. Dean looks at him and Sam knows he noticed that. “Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Sammy.” his voice is bitter and he puts the picture down as if it was burning his fingertips. “So you two live together, huh? Where is she?”

“She’s - not here.”

“Is she out partying on a Wednesday, too? When is she coming back?”

Sam winces. He doesn’t want to talk about Jessica right now. “I don’t know,” he says.

Dean turns to him with a cold smile. It’s the smile that Sam fears most - the one that doesn’t show his teeth, doesn’t reach his eyes. “So you invited me in, for what? So we can wait here for your perfect little girlfriend and - “

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam cuts through his words. He stares at Dean angrily. “Not anymore.”

Dean looks genuinely surprised. “What, she… left you?” Sam nods. “Like, for good?”

Sam pauses for a moment. “She’ll come back eventually.” Before the cold smile can return, he clarifies, “To pick up her things, I mean.”

“Oh.” Bitterness gone now, Dean looks a bit lost in the middle of Sam’s Stanford living room, and Sam almost laughs. Dean was always better at dealing with broken bones than with broken hearts - but it’s not like Sam himself was any better. The memory of the last time he saw his brother starts to creep back at him, and although he banishes it away, it kills any chance of laughter.

“So…” Dean starts, looking at Sam, as if he wants him to say something. When he doesn’t, Dean continues, “Unless you want to cry into your pillow while I stroke your hair...”

“No - don’t go.” Sam blurts out.

Dean just stares at him. Eventually, he says, anger underlining his words, “So you want me to stay, and, what? Get you through your hangover, help you get over your breakup with college Barbie? Is this what you meant when you said you needed me?”

Sam’s too hazy to properly respond, can’t even see straight. “Just tonight, Dean, please.” His hands reach out to the edge of Dean’s jacket and he grabs handfuls of the leather, bringing Dean as close to him as possible, trying not to sob his next words, throwing any inhibition away. “Please, De, need you to stay with me.” He knows his eyes are probably leaking. He doesn’t care. He looks up to his brother’s face, trying to memorise it so he can remember it tomorrow, because right now he can’t decipher what that look of his means.

Dean grips Sam’s hands and holds them for a moment. “Just tonight.” He says at last, and lets Sam drag him onto the couch and wrap himself around him. The anxiety that bubbled up in him is settled down, and Sam allows himself to relax into his brother's arms; even if it’s just tonight.

The light hits Dean’s eyes and he blinks furiously before finally making out his surroundings. A moment later, last night’s memories come back to him and he sits up, completely awake.

He can hear the shower running. His nose picks up the scent of coffee - and toast, too. His watering mouth is what makes him get up eventually, and when he does he feels his clothes stick to his skin, a reminder that he slept in them last night. Sam did, too. They didn’t even bother with as much as kicking off their shoes before drifting off to sleep - together, legs tangled, arms holding each other close.

Because that’s normal, right? Nothing says “Hey, Sammy, I missed you” like a casual brotherly spooning, Dean thinks grimly and sits at the kitchen table.

He nibbles on a slice of toast while contemplating his next move. Sam is bound to leave the shower soon - it’s taking him forever, what a princess - and Dean has to be ready when he shows up. He let himself slip last night, lost in the face of Sam’s desperation, that genuine need… But he shouldn’t have stayed. He should've tucked Sammy safely into his bed, say goodnight and drive the hell away from this stupid prissy college.

Dean braces himself when he hears the water stop. Any moment now, Sam will enter the room, apologize for calling him up, and send him on his way.

Dean is already thinking of a way to tell his father about this (cuddling excluded, of course) when Sam steps into the room, casually rubbing a towel over his wet hair, completely naked.

“Dude, what the - “

“Oh - shit, Dean, I thought you were still asleep.” Sam flashes an embarrassed, apologetic smile as he wraps the towel around his waist. Dean feels heat creeping up his cheeks and tries his hardest to repress it, seriously, it’s supposed to be Sam who blushes like a girl, while Sam sits in the chair in front of him and grabs a piece of toast.

Trying to keep his eyes away from his almost-naked brother, Dean stares at the clock on the wall, trying not to think of it as counting away his time. Finally he asks, eyes still fixed on the clock, “Don’t you have classes or something?”

Sam shrugs his shoulders. “Professor is sick,” He says with his mouth full. “Want me to show you around campus later?”

“Show me aro - aren't you going to apologize?” Dean snaps, moving his gaze back to his brother. He lets more anger into his words than he intended and he curses himself for it, but it’s too late to back out from this conversation now.

Sam swallows his food, troubled, and sets the rest of the toast aside. His hands drop to his lap, where he plays with the towel, until finally he says, “I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have done this.”

Disappointment starts to bloom in Dean’s chest like blood stains through a t-shirt and he pushes it away violently. This is exactly what he was getting ready for, so how come he still has any glimpse of hope? “Yeah, you shouldn’t have.”

“I was just so - “ Sam won’t look into his eyes, and traces of last night’s desperation start creeping into his voice. “When you told me all those things, I, I panicked. I was already pretty unhappy for a while - you know me and dad, always butting heads - and that was kinda like a final push or something.”

Dean has a weird feeling in his stomach. “Sam, what are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to apologize, Dean. Please, just let me finish.”

“For drunk dialing me last night and dragging my ass out here in the middle of the night,” Dean says, not asking, trying to convince himself that this is all the conversation is about.

“What?” Sam looks at him. Dean notices tiny tears hanging from his lashes, like fish caught in a net. “No. For leaving you.”

The silence thickens while they look at each other. The clock keeps ticking away in the background.

“I told you to forget everything I said,” Dean says eventually. His voice is hoarse even to his own ears.

“But that’s the thing, Dean,” Sam speaks quietly, “I just couldn’t. Even here, all those miles away from you, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. I tried to put it all behind me, find a girl, build myself a normal life… But I couldn’t.” His eyes are focused on the towel and Dean’s head is working overtime to make sense of this.

Sam sniffs. “I know I hurt you.” He says in a small voice. Dean sees right through him - sees his teary-eyed baby brother, who simply did something he isn’t proud of and now aches for his forgiveness. “I said things I regret.”

“Called me sick,” Dean reminds him, mercilessly. “Said I needed to go see someone to fix everything that’s wrong with me.” Many other things were said, too, but those are the only ones he can bring himself to repeat.

“But that’s the thing, Dean,” Sam lifts his head at last and meets Dean’s eyes. His eyes tell Dean he’s right - this is his best, desperate attempt to fix this. “I don’t think you’re sick anymore. I think I know how you feel.”

What is he saying?

“I tried not to, tried to run away from it. But nothing else was enough, no one else was.” He’s visibly crying now but he continues, and Dean realises Sam needs to say those things, not just to him but out loud, to make them true, to make sure there’s no turning back. “De, you’re my big brother. And I love you. I don’t care if people think we’re sick, okay? I want to be with you - “

Dean doesn’t know how he got there - he doesn’t remember getting up - but he’s kneeling next to Sam, reaching up to brush away the tears, and it’s hard to reach his face because when did his baby brother get so freakishly tall? “It’s okay, Sammy. Don’t cry.”

“Mean it, Dean. I need you. I can’t - not without you.”

Dean stands and hugs Sam’s teary face to his chest. “Not going anywhere, Sammy. I’m right here with you.” Sam wraps his hands around his big brother and they melt into each other, bright morning sunshine and the smell of burnt, forgotten coffee, and little drops of water and tears mixing together and they don’t know where Dean ends and Sam begins but that's exactly what they're craving, wouldn’t have it any other way.

#wincest #wincest fanfiction #spn trope round robin #sam x dean #my writing #stanford era #hurt/comfort #eventual fluff #sam needing dean so bad he cries is apparently my thing now

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cacti-are-like-flamingos · 4 years ago

Text

The Golden Hand

° Assassin’s Creed Odyssey Imagine °

Chapter 4

Fem! Reader

Central Masterlist | The Golden Hand

You gazed upon the piece of parchment as though it had told you the ugliest truth. Your brows furrowed and wrinkled as your eyes displayed the world’s most intense confusion.

Just what the hell did Alexios write?!

Allow me to explain, you had woken just a few minutes ago. Your legs sore from yesterday’s horseback riding and your eyes swollen from a night’s crying session. It was only after you had searched all over the house and near fields that you came to the conclusion that your only guide had gone off, most likely either in search of new employment or finishing one.

You sighed, “Most likely it just says he’ll be back by ---what? Sundown? Yeah, sounds reasonable enough.” You spoke to no one but yourself.

Situating yourself back onto your bed, you allowed yourself to relax. Leaning your back onto the cold stone wall with your eyes closed, you took a deep breath in. The memories of the day before still fresh in your mind. You could still hear their screams...the pain in that little girl’s voice as she cried out for her parents to come and save her.

“Argh!” You yelled, dragging your hand down your face as you forced yourself to push down the knot that was quickly forming at the back of your throat.

“Alexios?” You jumped at the sound of a new voice. Peeking through the spaces of your fingers, you caught sight of a familiar young girl standing by the doorway. A small smile playing on her lips as she entered, “Ah! You are the pretty lady from before! Uhh...” You felt the ends of your lip contort upwards into a smile of your own upon hearing the innocent compliment. You quickly added, “(Y/n).”

“Yes (Y/n) --- wait, you have such a strange name. Are you not from here?” You chuckled, “No, no I am not. And you are Phoibe.” She nodded, “Then where are you from?” Thinking your answer over, you decided that being vague was your best friend, “I am from a land very far away. Now, you are looking for Alexios, no?” Phoibe nodded her head once more, “Yes, have you seen him?” Shifting over so that you sat at the very edge of the bed, you shook your head. A small frown hanging low on your lips, “No, but he did leave this. Are you able to read it?” You grabbed the parchment before handing it over to the brunette. Skimming over it, Phoibe quickly responded with, “Sorry but I can’t read. But it most likely says that he’ll be back soon.”

“Oh. Well, okay then.” A silence bloomed between the two of you. It was somewhat of an awkward sort considering that you had just quite actually met if one were to exclude the events of the day before. It was then that the young child called for your attention once more.

“You are not familiar with Kephallonia, right?” She asked. An excited look in her eyes. Narrowing your own slightly, you slowly nodded your head, “No I am not...why?” The child grinned.

“Would you like to go on an adventure with me?”

...

“Malakas!” Exclaimed the seasoned warrior in annoyance. The palm of his hand slapping the skin of his forehead as he sighed in exasperation. Arching a single brow, Barnabas leaned closer to his newfound friend and companion. His eyes posing the question his mouth offered to ask.

“What seems to be the matter, Alexios?” The older male inquired.

Sighing once more, the Spartan gazed back upon him, “I have committed the stupidest mistake. I shall be traveling with another and so I had left for them a message on a piece of parchment; however, it has just dawned on me that they most likely do not know how to read the language. What an idiot I am!” Barnabas roared in laughter. His calloused hands coming to grip the cloth on his stomach as he desperately tried to compose himself. All which earned him a mighty stern glare from Alexios himself.

“Do not laugh at me!” The man cried before soon he, too, began to chuckle at his own stupidity.

“Ah, Alexios, I am enjoying this friendship more than I thought I would; however, do tell me of this companion of yours,” Barnabas said, continuing to walk along the path to Sami’s Harbor where the Adrestia was docked.

“There is not much to tell. I had only met them two nights ago.” His words earned him a reaction from the other, “Two nights ago and you decide to sail with them?” “I met you not a minute ago and I am sailing with you.” Alexios retorted, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Barnabas chuckled, “Quite true. Why are you to sail with them, may I ask?” This question, however, was briefly answered with a moment of silence as Alexios pondered how to word his actual answer. Perhaps it was better to avoid the truth for now and only speak partly of it.

“She saved my life, and in return, she asks for me to take her home,” Alexios answered at last.

“Oh? A woman?” Alexios nodded, “Yes. I owe her my life. Although, I know not of the ways to get her home.” The silver-haired probed, “And why’s that?”

Licking his lips, the misthios gazed upon the nearing vessel that was to be his ship, “Let’s just say, she is quite far from home.”

...

You never would have thought that when Phoibe mentioned an adventure, that the adventure would mean walking all across the main island. Like damn, your feet really hurt. It’s genuinely unbelievable how the people walk miles in literal sandals. Panting heavily, you watched with tired eyes as Phoibe continued to move forth with grand energy.

“Hurry (Y/n)! I have to finish this adventure so that Markos can give me another!” The scrawny little girl exclaimed, climbing over some well-sized boulders not too far from where you had taken a rest stop.

“If...you’d had informed me that this...adventure was actually just you running...errands---ugh, how I miss my bed.” You cried.

Rolling her eyes, Phoibe jumped off from the large rock and instead jumped onto your figure. Groaning loudly as your body stumbling backward with the additional sudden weight, “Phoibe...!” In the spur of a moment, she turned around and began to run down one of the forks in the path, yelling, “I’ll be back!”

You went to chase after her, shouting out her name in protest for her to come back, but unfortunately, her small body allowed her to be faster. And so, soon enough, her figure fell out of sight and you were, once again, left alone and to your own devices.

How swell.

Taking a moment to calm down the painful drumming of your heart, you groaned as you shifted your weight to your other foot. The feeling of pins and needles digging into the flesh of your foot being too great for you. You seriously needed to rest somewhere. And it had to be NOW.

Quickly moving towards the boulders, you threw yourself onto the one closest to your height, a sigh of pure instant relief escaping past your lips. You stayed there for a moment, slowing down your breathing to a proper pace. You breathed the fresh sea air into the depths of your diaphragm, allowing our blood to enrich itself with precious oxygen before breathing out the remainder. You could feel yourself instantly loosen up. The tension in your shoulder’s soon disappearing away as if they had never been there in the first place.

It was in this brief moment of peace that your thoughts became muddied with worry and conflict. Yesterday plagued your mind unlike any other memory you stored. It was strange, you know? The fact that you tore yourself apart at the remembrance of how you sent a family to their deaths whilst you bore almost no remorse for the man you helped kill upon your arrival. Was it because you did it in an effort to save someone? Is that why you felt nothing about it? But then again, you didn’t really send that family to their deaths...wait, but by doing nothing, you did.

Is this really the right time to question your mor-

“Oh my, I must say that such a horrid expression is quite unbefitting of such a beauty much like yourself my dear.” You snapped your gaze up to the face of man you were unfamiliar with. There stood man, much older than you, wearing a look of curious upon his aged features. A gentle smirk sitting about his shaven face as his eyes sparkled with the faintest glint of intrigue. You had to admit, something about him didn’t sit quite as well as you had hoped with you. In your eyes, he was much like a snake. Hidden in the grass and ready to bite.

You smiled bashfully, “Thank you...?” “Elpenor. I hope you do not mind the sudden intrude, it’s just that to see such a lovely creature as yourself with a look so conflicted as that was quite troubling to me. People who have been blessed by the goddess Aphrodite should always bear a fruitful smile.”

...did this motherfucker really just tell you that you would look better with a smile but just in a more eloquent and polite manner?

Huh.

You huffed at his words, “I wouldn’t go that far but, nonetheless, I thank you for your kind words Elpenor.” He smiled at your humbleness.

“Might I intrude some more and ask for your name?” You smiled, “I don’t see the harm, my name is (Y/n).” You introduced, presenting your hand to shake his own but only to have the male guide the appendage to his lips, which he used to lay a gentle kiss upon the skin of your hand.

Oh. Okay. Right.

H u h.

“It is a pleasure to have met such divinity,” You could not help the flushing of your cheeks as he continued to compliment you. Not when he spoke them with such apparent truth. His voice honeyed as to deflect any doubt of his true nature, you noted. He continued, “Judging by the weariness in your gaze, I am held to believe that you are quite tired from your travels. Perhaps you would like to accompany me...?” He gestured over to behind him. It was then that you noticed the small carriage that stood not too far, the coachmen looking away from the two of you.

“Oh. Wow. I did not see that...how...” Chuckling amusedly at your surprised expression, he repeated, “How will you answer?”

Now I know your mother always told you don’t talk to strangers and most importantly don’t get in the car with strangers but you could say the situation was rather different right now.

Thinking back to your blistering feet, you made your decision instantly. Grabbing his hand, he smiled joyously as he led you to the entrance of the wooden carriage, helping you up the steps before joining you. He sat across from you, the beautiful purple fabric he wore bundling into his lap.

And as the carriage began to move you realized something.

Where the actual fuck am I going?

...

(A/N): Got a sudden spur of inspiration lol.

Hope you enjoyed!

129 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.30

A Time to Fight

05/03/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,757

Warnings: Language, intense feelings of trepidation and anxiety?

A/N: Plot heavy! I mean, if you consider battles a plot. Which I guess it is. Some fluff too. Not much. Lots of love though. Always love. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

TAGS ARE CLOSED!

Please DO NOT repost my stories. Reblogs are welcome!

The room is quiet save for the fire, burning in its hearth. It crackles and cricks as the wood becomes splintered and charred. Tony’s large council chamber is bathed in warmth, and yet the cold outside seems to press on the castle, crushing its occupants with despair.

A new flurry of snow falls, seen through the large arched windows. All of them are shut tight, an attempt to battle the frigid air.

Sam, Clint, Natasha, Tony, Thor, and Bruce sit. T’Challa stands nearby staring out at the guard below as it patrols the blanketed castle grounds.

They’ve been doubled since your return at Steve’s request. Tripled at Tony’s.

T’Challa is pensive as he waits, stroking his chin slowly as his mind races—miles away.

The somber atmosphere of the room is nearly choking, and Bruce finally clears his throat.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay.” He says, nodding slowly and looking to Nat who sits beside him.

He reaches out and places a hand over hers, offering warmth and reassurance.

“He’s strong, Nat.” Bruce assures her.

Nat nearly pulls her hand away, but she resists and looks to Bruce, searching his expression for the sarcasm of his reassurance.

She doesn’t find any because he is genuine in his care.

With a sigh she turns her hand over and holds his in return, squeezing it in appreciation.

“Can she help him, T’Challa?” Thor’s voice wonders, his body angled towards the silent king.

T’Challa turns, still deep in thought to look at the thunder God. He seems to realize what he asked because he drops his stroking hand to cross his chest with the other and nods.

“If anyone can figure out what is wrong with the White Wolf, it will be Shuri.” He assures the room.

“Why do you call him the White Wolf?” Clint wonders, shifting forward in his seat to rest his elbows on the table, hands clasped loosely in front of him.

T’Challa opens his mouth to speak, but Sam beats him to it. “Bucky stayed in Wakanda for a few months while he learned to get used to his new arm. He helped them with a few troubles they had while he was there. Helped them fight. They gave him the name because he was the only white man within their ranks.”

T’Challa nods, dropping his arms to rest his hands at his front.

“Correct?” Sam asks, looking at the king.

“Yes.” T’Challa agrees. “He was of great service to my kingdom. The people gave him the name. It is a symbol of honor.”

Clint looks mildly impressed, turning his gaze on Natasha who looks a little worried still.

“Sounds to me like he’s a tough man to keep down.” Clint says for her benefit.

Natasha is mildly comforted by his words, but she will feel so much better when Steve and Shuri come back.

“They’re taking their sweet time.” Tony complains, bitter that he wasn’t invited but with Shuri…well, he isn’t going to fight her on anything she needs. Even if what she needs is his absence.

“What about her Majesty?” Clint asks, worried by the state at which they’d brought you home.

Thor’s own face falls, his brow furrows as he remembers the nearly emaciated state, you’d been in. Perhaps that is an exaggeration on his part, but you’d lost too much weight for his liking. You’d look so tired and worn.

Having fainted on the way back, Steve had carried you in. Cradled lovingly against his chest but clearly limp and unresponsive.

Nat clears her throat, licking her dry pink lips as her mind is thankfully distracted—if only to be replaced with a different kind of worry.

“She’s getting better. I think it was the fright of everything that happened more than any real physical ailment that brought her to such sleep.” Nat nods, then coughs a bit as her throat goes raw, her mouth dry.

Quickly the men move, but it’s Tony who reaches the water first. He takes the pitcher as the others sit back down and pours her a glass of wine.

“Here, drink.” He orders, and he makes it clear that it’s not a request.

Nat takes the goblet and takes a sip.

“Has she woken up at all?” Bruce wonders.

“She was awake last night.” Thor sighs, leaning back. He raps the fingers of the arm he holds extended across the table, nervous energy seeping out.

“How did she seem?” Clint asks, his regret at not having met you sooner evident.

Everything he’d seen of you and heard of you from Nat and the others painted such a lovely picture. A woman without fear but with a humble outlook on life. A desire to be helpful with an iron sense of duty. Courage but not of any kind he’d ever seen before.

You aren’t a fighter or someone with great power in strength. Your own comes from somewhere deep within you. You draw from the struggles that you have suffered, or so Nat had explained.

Clint would very much like to meet you properly.

“She was tired.” Thor tells him, “But in good spirits. Worried for Barnes. Worried for Steve and the distress that Barnes’s condition gives him. But I made her laugh…so…”

As if that is enough to say you’re alright.

Nat’s face relaxes into an easy smile.

“Did you, really?” She asks Thor, almost desperate.

“Why haven’t you gone to see her?” Thor asks, his frown back in place.

Nat’s own smile fades. “I-”

But her words are silenced as the heavy birch doors of the room are pushed open by a pair of guards. Steve moves in, Shuri beside him, both immersed in deep conversation.

Their hushed voices draw everyone up in their seats, alert and curious. Natasha stands up, her hand falling out of Bruce’s gentle hold as she rests the tips of her fingers against the solid grain of the table.

Steve and Shuri come to a stop, their eyes moving to those waiting.

“Well?” Tony asks, only slightly less impatient than Natasha but with less ability to keep it within.

Steve turns to him and then hesitates, looking to Shuri.

Shuri nods, “I’m afraid that the White Wolf has been brainwashed.”

The term is strange to Tony and the others. All except for Natasha, whose face goes ghostly white.

“Brainwashed?” Clint repeats.

T’Challa, who is the only other who seems to recognize the term, steps forward.

“Are you sure, sister?” He checks, eyebrows slanted deeply.

Thor looks as confused as the others, but the wheels in his brain seem to be working fast.

“Do you mean to say that someone has taken his mind and altered it in some way?” Thor asks, looking as if he knows what they mean though he doesn’t recognize the word.

“That is exactly what I mean, Your Majesty.” Shuri nods.

“We have a different term for it, but I know what it is you speak of.” Thor says. “And it was not done by magic?”

Shuri shakes her head. “No.”

Steve sighs, placing his hands on his hips he meets Natasha’s eyes and holds them, a look of agony in each of their faces.

“He was tortured.” Nat says her voice even and unforgiving of the word she uses.

Though her eyes mist over, she doesn’t allow the rest of her to betray any sign of despair. Quickly she shuts her eyes, squeezing the tears away before she opens them once again to focus on Steve and Shuri.

“Can you help him?”

Shuri focuses on Natasha, and for too long a moment, she’s silent.

Natasha has the urge to shake her, however unladylike it may seem. Her own impatience rearing its head for attention.

“I can.” Shuri nods, her expression softening. “I will. But we will have to move him down to Tony’s laboratory.”

Nat feels her stomach unknot, then flutter nervously at the thought of not having Bucky in her rooms.

“Whatever you need.” Nat nods. Heart in her throat.

“What can we do?” Thor asks, sitting up and leaning forward to look at Steve.

“Stay close. Something tells me that things aren’t over.” Steve admits, looking somber.

He’s preoccupied of course, with you and with the baby. With Bucky and with Hydra. With his kingdom and the state it is in under Lord Coulson’s care. Though it should be fine, Hydra makes him worry for his people.

“Have you heard something?” Sam asks him, leaning forward in his seat.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “No, I’ve not heard anything more than what we know. You say that the guard are looking for Pierce?”

He turns to Tony who stands up and wipes at his beard, tracing his chin from side to side. “Yes. Both here and in Broklin. I’ve sent the Lady Hill to help there while you and Y/N are here.”

Steve nods. “Thank you.”

It really does seem as if his mind is set at ease.

“He’s out there. I will not rest until he’s caught. This is a threat that’s loomed over my head long enough. And after what he’s done, so openly…I can’t stand by anymore.” Steve’s blood boils at the memory of you battered and bruised on the ground, fearfully curled up as Bucky advanced.

Pierce did that and it was he that would pay the price of your fear and hurt.

“I will help you. For Y/N. And for every other innocent life lost.” Thor declares, standing. He holds out his hand and his hammer flies towards him with a resound whoosh.

He catches it and shakes it once, slapping it to the palm of his hand before he’s joined by Clint, then Sam, and Bruce.

Tony sighs, leaning both hands on the table as he looks around at them all standing with their shoulders back, chins held high, resolute expressions, and passion within their eyes. All of them area ready to die for not only you, but the safety of the kingdoms.

T’Challa steps forward, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves before pulling down on his unique silk tunic. His arms fall to his sides and he nods.

“I will also fight.” He declares, and Shuri smiles, looking around at all of them in their intimidating splendor.

“And I will do what I can, while also helping the White Wolf.” She nods once.

Steve’s gratitude spills from his face. Soft smile, taut chin, and eyes full of trust.

“You all must have really missed this damn team.” Tony snarks.

No one denies it. There’s a knock on the door.

As the other gather at the far end of the table to discuss where they may go to begin their searches for Pierce and Hydra, Tony moves to answer the door.

“Steve.” He calls, voice tight but controlled.

The sound of his upset prompts Steve to respond quickly. He moves towards the door where Tony stands with his hand on the door as if to block someone from entering. He drops it as Steve reaches him and the sight of Sharon enlightens Steve as to Tony’s displeasure.

“Sharon,” Steve begins, taking a deep breath before he grazes Tony’s shoulder with his hand to tell him that he can go.

Tony stays for a moment, almost stubbornly as if he is going to refuse to move. Sharon bites her lip, her long and golden cascading waves frame her pretty face, as she awkwardly stands before them both feeling scrutinized and unwanted.

With a sigh, Tony gives Steve a pointed look. “I’m watching you.” Then moves towards the team.

Steve drops his head, knowing he’s earned to be chastised, and nods.

“I don’t think he likes me.” Sharon whispers sheepishly and Steve can see what you meant.

There seems to be no guilt in her mind about what she did.

“He has every right to hate you, Sharon. You snuck into the bed of his daughter’s husband. You drove a rift between us, however short lived it might have been. Both you and I hurt her, and Tony will never forgive us for it. Neither will I.” Steve is ruthless with his words, unhappy with Sharon’s lack of care for you.

He turns and moves away from her, his hands held behind his back as he stops by one of the large windows to observe the horizon.

He can hear Sharon follow, but doesn’t turn to look at her, preferring to keep a new boundary set.

“I didn’t mean to harm you.” She says, and Steve can hear that it is truth. She hadn’t meant to harm him. But for you…

“But you did. She’s my wife, Sharon.” Steve says sternly, but quietly so that the others in the room can’t overhear.

“I know.” She nods. “I understand.”

“But do you respect it?” He asks, turning to look at her. “She knows that you were not genuine in your apologies. That’s why she does not trust you.”

Sharon’s face turns scarlet, her ears and neck burning with her quiet rage.

“I love her, Sharon.” Steve tells her. “I tell you this not to hurt you, but because you have been my friend all my life. I would have you remain in it. You are a part of Margaret too. The three of us were family.

“But my wife…Y/N…I would like to have you be a part of this family as well. I will have a son soon.” Steve pleads, his heart breaking for the memories he would lament if he would need to cut ties with Sharon completely.

In a way, he feels like he must. Let it all go so that he might go into his future with nothing to hold him back. But it was such a large part of his life. To say goodbye to it for good would feel like a betrayal to himself and the man he grew to become.

Sharon looks down at her feet, and Steve can see the war raging in her head. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Sharon reaches up to stroke her golden waves.

Steve recognizes the signs, the nerves get the better of her, the way her chin stiffens as she becomes defensive.

“I cannot have you here if you will not respect my marriage, Sharon.” Steve sighs again, this time in defeat.

Heart aching for the loss of the sister he’d always thought her.

“Then I will go.” She says. “I’ll send for my carriage in the morning. I’m sorry, Steve. But you’ve been mine in my head since I realized what Margaret’s death meant for you. I can’t just give up. Not for her.”

Her face contorts, a twisted look of distaste as she mentions you.

Steve’s blood boils. Frustration for her lack of consideration. For her inability to see how this hurts him. For her clear dislike of you. Other than the fact that you are his wife, she has no reason to hate you. Perhaps that is enough?

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Steve swallows his anger. “I hope you can come to terms with my marriage someday.”

Sharon scoffs, annoyed and hurt, before giving Steve a quick curtsy then leaving the way she came.

Steve turns his gaze back to the falling snow, jaw flexing tight, arms crossed as the sun begins to set. Tony approaches and stops beside him, hands behind his back.

“How did that go?” He asks, gentler than he had been just a few minutes ago.

“She’s leaving.” Steve admits.

“I’m sorry.” Tony nods truly aggrieved for Steve’s unhappiness.

“So am I.” Steve shakes his head. “But Y/N is more important than any need to cling to my life before I met her. And she’s so kindhearted if Sharon would just give up…I know that she’d-”

“She might.” Tony smiles. “But she might not. If there’s anything that I’ve learned about my daughter since I took her in, it’s that she’s very protective of those she loves. And if these last two weeks have taught me anything, it’s that she will go to great lengths to keep you. Safe and preferably hers.”

Steve’s face relaxes, feeling a surge of gratitude for your sacrifices to heal him. The memory of everyone’s reaction to seeing you after two weeks, however, gives him anxiety. You’d lost too much weight, the vibrancy in your complexion had dimmed and your eyes had become slightly fogged.

“I should get back to her.” He states and turns to go.

“Don’t give her a hard time, Steve. The sacrifices she makes for you are not that to her. It’ll only upset her to see you vexed.” Tony reasons.

Steve stops to turn and acknowledge his words but catches Nat’s eye as he’s turning to leave once again.

She moves to him, stopping a foot away looking nervous and guilty for some reason.

“Are you going to see her Majesty?” She asks him, shifting her weight onto her left foot as she teeters anxiously. He recognizes what she’s feeling, since he’s feeling it too.

“Will you come?” He asks, and she nods eagerly.

He offers her his arm and she rushes forward to take it, wrapping her own around his elbow and allows him to pull her in close to his side.

It isn’t until they’re alone, walking along the hallway to your bedroom that Nat finds her voice again.

“Steve…” She begins, quiet.

“It’s not your fault, Nat.” He tells her, cutting her off before she can begin her spiel. “Nor mine. Nor anyone’s but Pierce.”

“But I left her alone. I swore to protect her.” She grieves.

“She wasn’t alone.” Steve shakes his head. “She was with me. And she’s here now. A little battered, but she’s fine. And the baby is fine, or so Agatha says. I don’t think I’ll be content until he’s here with us. Crying in my arms.”

The dynamic shifts and it’s Nat comforting Steve now as he stops just outside your door to let all his worry spill here where you can’t see.

“If I’d been faster, or if I’d had the sense to keep myself shielded properly then maybe I wouldn’t have been injured and she wouldn’t have had to bear so much of-”

“I thought it wasn’t either of our faults? Do you lie, my King?” Nat teases, giving him a half smile because Nat knows that it’s easier to tell others it isn’t their fault than believe it yourself.

For Steve, it must be even harder.

Steve drops his head, letting it hang as he inhales, then exhales slowly. His shoulders rise and fall, and Nat takes her arm back to give his shoulder a gentle pat.

“Can it not be my fault alone?” He asks, looking at Nat with those storm blues.

“No.” She whispers at him, shaking her head. “If we are to blame one, let us blame everyone. None of us were prepared for what would happen should one of our own turn. We had no contingencies for if and when we were to be separated. If we must blame someone, let us blame ourselves as a unit. We failed her.”

Nat swallows hard, trying to ignore the ache in her chest and the pit in her stomach.

“We failed both of them.” She whispers, voice breaking just a bit.

Steve reaches down to take her hand and she smiles at him in gratitude.

“Bucky will be alright, Nat. He’s a fighter. Always has been.” Steve promises her.

“Just as her majesty is.” Nat agrees. “Come on, let’s go in. What if she’s been waiting?”

“Agatha said she wouldn’t be up for a few days.” Steve reaches out and opens the door, watching as Peter rises on full alert.

His eyes are red and puffy, his nose raw from rubbing his snot away. The form fitting charcoal tunic and the black trousers he wears remind Steve of his own mourning garb. And with his grief-stricken expression, Steve’s mind goes into panic and he releases Nat.

Pushing forward he passes Peter quickly, eyes watering as his lip begins to shake.

“Steve?” Peter asks, confused by the rush.

Nat follows, moving just as quickly. Her heart racing with fear as she sees Peter’s inquisitive face.

Steve moves to your bed, feeling cold despite the roaring fire filling the room with heat. He drops onto the bed, seated before reaching for your hand.

With a breath of relief at the warm touch of your skin, he presses the inside of your wrist to his cheek and feels the pulse of blood through vein. He shuts his eyes, almost angry with Peter for his sobbing.

He turns to him, face contorted with annoyance. “Why were you crying when we came in?”

Peter sniffs, wipes his nose once more with the back of his hand, and then looks at the floor.

“Tell me.” Steve insists, waiting with your hand pressed to his cheek as you sleep on.

Because you’re perfect. Just as he’d left you. Sleeping soundly, still thinner than he’d like, but only just. You hadn’t been so bad after all, but out there in the midst of all the danger, you’d looked so much worse to his eyes.

Nat moves to your other side, her head cocked to the side as she takes a long look at your face. She reaches out, touching your cheek. Tracing your ear, she caresses it. She too relishes in the feeling of your warm skin.

“She’ll want a bath when she wakes.” Nat tells no one. She makes note in her mind to go out and find you some fresh peonies. She’ll pay anything to get them for you. She’ll have some new oils sent for. “I’ll have them bring her some jams. She loves her jams.”

With a sweep of her skirts, Nat is gone. Off to get you whatever you might need when you wake.

Steve watches her go, saddened by the guilt that she carries knowing that it isn’t her fault. Still, he carries that guilt himself, doubled as you are carrying his son.

Peter’s shifting from foot to foot brings his gaze back to him, and Steve renews his frown.

“I was…” Peter sniffs again and shrugs his shoulders. A nervous move that makes Steve worry. “…I should have been with her. During the procession.”

Steve doesn’t know how his heart can break anymore today. But watching his friends love you and wish they’d done more to keep you safe also fills him with such a gratitude. Only your goodness could bring about this much care.

“Peter, nothing was supposed to happen. It is not your fault that you were not beside her. I was there. And that was supposed to be enough. How could we have known that Pierce would use someone we trusted against us?” Steve gets up and moves to stand before Peter, his hand finding his shoulder to hold and give him a small shake.

“So, it was Pierce? He was behind the attack?” Peter’s normally pleasant face contorts with passing rage. His red rimmed eyes give you a glance.

“Her Majesty says that she saw Pierce speaking to Bucky before the procession began and then disappeared a moment later. For now, until he wakes up to confirm, it’s all we have to go on. But Pierce is the head of Hydra. Rumlow was among those fighting against us in the procession and he’s Pierce’s right hand. He would not have done anything without his command.

“And it was Hydra who’d had the opportunity to plant something in Bucky’s mind.” Steve explains.

“What? Do you mean like, mind conditioning? Brainwashing?” Peter asks, brow furrowed as he thinks quickly and tries to put all the pieces together.

“You’ve heard the term?” Steve asks, head tilting to the side lightly.

“In my studies. Before you allowed me to be a part of the team, King Stark had me read up on all the sciences and strange incidents that have plagued the world. The practice of brainwashing was mentioned a few times. Never in great detail, but it’s there.” Peter sighs, shaking his head as he attempts to understand what it must feel like to be taken over.

“Poor Bucky.” Peter’s sorrow is kind and Steve appreciates his compassion. “I’ll never leave her again.”

Peter turns a deeply resolute frown to Steve, and it melts a bit of Steve’s anxiety to think that Peter is so willing to throw himself into protecting you.

“As much as I’d love for you to be at her side always, I do need you out with the others for the time being.”

“Why? What has happened?”

“Nothing.” Steve shakes his head, turning to move back to your side.

He sits beside you, taking your hand again to stroke your fingers.

“That is, nothing new. Pierce has showed his hand and our priority is to find him. I’m expecting a letter from Lord Coulson tomorrow to see if Pierce has responded to his summons. I don’t think he will, but we had to try.

“And until Pierce is found, Y/N and my child will never truly be safe. If we can catch him quickly, then we can ensure her safety more quickly.” Steve meets Peter’s determined gaze and watches as Peter moves to quickly caress your free hand.

“I’ll leave now.” He says and turns to leave.

“Wait, Peter.” Steve rises, looking to you before leading Peter out into the hallway.

“What is it, your Majesty?”

“Can you wait until tomorrow morning?” Steve begins, looking a little shy or nervous? “I’ve…her Majesty is not fond of the Lady Carter being here. I’ve asked her to go home.”

Peter’s shoulders relax and he even smiles a little. “It’s honorable for you to stand by your wife despite the relationship that you have shared with Lady Carter in the past.”

Steve groans. “I don’t feel honorable. I feel like a fool. I don’t want to hurt Sharon, but I will not hurt Y/N. After everything I’ve done to her already, she deserves to be first in my life.

“And if Sharon would simply abandon her desires then it would be easier to keep them both in my life but—well, it doesn’t matter. I’d like Sharon to have some protection on her way home. I don’t want her doing anything reckless and I can’t take any chances with Pierce.

“He knows who is important to me and with Y/N out of reach, he might try his hand at someone a little more accessible.”

Peter’s nod is slow, thinking through something before he agrees. “Very well. I will do as you ask. I shall stay here the night.”

“No.” Steve interrupts. “No, Peter. Get some rest. You’ve been searching for us for two weeks straight and have hardly gotten any sleep since we’ve been back. Go get some sleep. I’ll be here and I’m sure Natasha will be back soon. Bucky will be with Shuri in Tony’s dungeons so…she can’t be with him.”

Peter looks reluctant but as it is his king’s orders, he nods. “As you wish, your Majesty. Good night. If you need anything, please call for me.”

“Of course.” Steve nods, a soft smile offered at the young man before he sends him off with a push to his shoulders.

Steve waits until Peter is out of sight before he goes back into the room. He shuts the doors securely then makes his way back to your bedside. He places one hand on your belly, stroking it gently as his child moves within.

Your face is unmoving, fast asleep. Induced by Agatha and her herbs. You’d needed the rest.

“I’m sorry, my flower.” Steve whispers, feeling cursed that he seems to only be a cause of distress for you.

“Sorry for what?” Agatha asks, voice creaky with age as she moves to the other side of the bed. “About time that boy left. He’s been on edge since you two went missing.”

“Will you be staying in here with her?” Steve asks, curious of the old woman as she places a small pouch on the bed beside you and pulls from it a few vials of different colored liquids.

She removes the stopper and pulls out a small glass tube which she then holds over your lips.

“Open her mouth, if you will, your Majesty.” She orders.

Steve gets to his feet and leans over you, pulling your chin down carefully until your lips are parted.

Agatha drops two drops of the first liquid into your mouth, then three of the second. Two of the third. One of the fourth.

“What are you giving her?” Steve wonders.

“Tonics.” Agatha says simply. “To help her heal faster. She’s been overstressed. That’s why she has lost weight.”

“She deserves better.” Steve laments.

“Oh?” Agatha laughs amused by his words for some reason. “And are you the one to decide what it is she deserves?”

Steve doesn’t understand her strange moods and simply looks at your pretty face, wishing he could cradle it close. Only that would fill the hole in his chest. He doesn’t like you unconscious like this. You don’t look like you’re sleeping. You look ill.

“Why did you marry her then?” Agatha continues to chuckle as she checks spots along your arm where some of your bruising seems to have gotten a little worse.

“I had to save my Kingdom.” Steve shakes his head. “I should have married her for love.”

“Oh, don’t be so romantic.” Agatha frowns. “You must accept your beginnings if you are to build a proper life with your wife. So, you were a bit of an asshole when you first married her? Big deal. Many husbands remain so for many years after they’ve married.

“Some begin as sweet as honey only to turn as sour as lemons after a few years. Count yourself lucky that you have learned from the mistakes you’ve made and stop trying to make up for them.” Agatha chastises.

“But I want her to know that I’m sorry.” Steve argues.

“Do you think she doesn’t know it? Have you given her any reason to think that you do not mean it?” She squints at him, urging a confession and for a fleeting moment, Steve panics as if he might really have done something and he can’t remember.

But no. Steve hasn’t done anything to risk the loss of your trust again

“N-no.” He shakes his head. “She knows I love her.”

“Then stop whining and live for your future. Stop living to make up for the past.” Agatha shoves her vials back into her small leather pouch and draws it closed before moving for the door again. “She’ll wake some time tomorrow. Naturally. No way to know when.”

“What will she need when she wakes?” Steve asks, getting up to follow the woman out.

“Oh, food. Water. A bath. Patience. She may be a little out of sorts for a few hours. Just talk to her and keep her focused on you and the child. Do not speak about what happened, or anything related to it until she is fully recovered.

“Remember, stress is her enemy right now. If you want your child to live, treat her as you would a fragile crystal goblet.” Agatha instructs.

“Thank you, Grandmother.” Steve says, using the term you do.

“Don’t thank me.” Agatha says. “Just do better.”

For a while, Steve watches you sleep. He drifts in and out of his own slumber until he decides to stand to keep awake.

Natasha finds him staring out the window as the blizzard outside begins to worsen. Dark skies absent of stars.

“I’ve got a few guards outside.” She tells Steve’s back, moving to stand beside him. “You can sleep with her. If something happens, they’ll sound the alarm. You don’t have to stay up, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t answer for a few minutes, simply looking at her to acknowledge her words before he goes back to watching the falling snow.

Natasha stands there with him in silence, waiting patiently for him to finish his thinking.

“I think we might need help this time.” Steve finally says, rewarding Nat’s patience.

“What did you have in mind? We already have the Wakandans here.”

“There’s a man in the Western kingdoms. I’m not sure where he is exactly but he was imprisoned for stealing from the rich to give to the poor.” Steve explains.

“Sounds like our type of people.” Nat agrees.

“He’s married. He and his wife have…unique abilities that might be useful for the fight to come.” Steve says. “They may be able to get to places that we simply cannot.”

“Do you really think things will get bad enough that we’ll have another battle? Like the one before the peace?” Nat wonders, emerald eyes full of worry.

“He won’t give up this time.” Steve nods. “If I didn’t have Y/N and our child I wouldn’t be as terrified as I am. I want it over. I want her safe. Both of them. Can’t you feel it? It’s like the world is holding its breath. Or maybe that’s just me?”

Nat shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself as if the cold outside has somehow penetrated the castle walls and begun to eat at the warmth in your room.

“I feel it.” She nods. “Something’s coming. I just…How can we be ready for it? With James in the state that he’s in and her Majesty…?”

Natasha can very much understand the fear that is currently taking hold in Steve’s heart.

“I feel like we should send her away. Far away.” Steve says, but Natasha can see that he won’t.

“She wouldn’t go.” She tells him, helping him make sense of keeping you here. She knows he wouldn’t be able to stand being away from you.

Steve scoffs, his first laugh since the two of you were returned.

“No.” He agrees. “She wouldn’t. She’s so stubborn.”

Natasha smiles, her heart feeling lighter at the fondness he clearly has for you. The love that’s there. She can’t remember the last time before you that he looked so happy. Even with Margaret, something was always just a little off.

Steve’s smile slips away, deep though replacing the lighthearted expression.

“I think it’s time we reached out to Fury.”

Natasha looks for his gaze but he’s too busy watching the snow fall, his arms crossing over his chest as he resolves in this decision.

“You want me to find him.” Natasha realizes, and how can she blame him? She knew him best.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve x you #medieval fantasy au #royalty au #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #mcu au #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt30

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years ago

Text

Black Locks

“Chief. Mia. Please.”

Wright stood in front of her. Fists clenched. Jaw locked. Plead. Plead the same way he’d plead to lead the Steel Samurai case all those months ago. The way Maya had described him pleading to lead her defense against the attempted murder charge against her.

“Wright what makes you think he doesn’t have an attorney?”

“Please.”

And this was how she ended up sitting across from Miles Edgeworth in the detention center on Christmas morning.

He refused them even as he admits no one will take his case.

“-A wet behind the ears lawyer with three cases under you belt? I’m not that desperate yet.”

“I could lead the defense, if you’d prefer.”

Not that she wanted to. Not that she believes in his innocence.

Wright sat next to her, after she was released from the hospital and slurped his much delayed celebratory ramen. He'd won two cases and they hadn’t had the chance to celebrate even one. He told her why he became a lawyer.

There’s someone I want to save.

He’s told her this before. While swallowed glass settles in his belly. But now it has a name. A face. A smug smile.

She hates that brat. She doubts there’s anything worth saving. Wright just stared mournfully into his ramen like he doubted it too.

Edgeworth grit his teeth. Glared at the wall. “Stay out of this Ms. Fey.” But he offered no counter argument to her offer.

“The lake is a long way away from your offices and the court... Why were you down there?” Wright probed instead.

“I see no reason to tell you.”

She crossed her legs. Leaned back in the chair. What a waste of a morning.

“Edgeworth!” Wright slammed his hands down on the table. Pleading and irritated and desperate all at once.

“… Gourdy.”

“…?” She raised her head to study him. The eyes hidden behind his bangs. The deep purple bags under his eyes. They’re almost satisfying. Knowing he’s enjoying firsthand what he’s done to so many others. Guilty or not.

“I went to see Gourdy.”

The room went dark. Heavy with the slide of chains as they drag over the floor and up to his heart.

There are so many. Bleeding red like his bloody heart.

“But... you didn't do it, right? Right?”

The locks faded as the conversation moved on. But the detention center was far colder now that she knows they exist. She braced for the lie Edgeworth will shovel down their throats and she’ll drag Wright away with an apology about how his friend cannot be saved.

“... Think what you will. I have only one request.”

He hadn’t answered, so he hasn’t lied. She swallowed the irate sigh. What does he want now?

“Stay out of this case.”

She jolted. Back suddenly straight. Her feet click sharp against the floor. “What?! He’s trying to help you!”

Not that she has much proof there was anything worth saving. An objection and aid during a single case did not undo the years prior. There was character evidence piled high enough to kill.

Guilty or not, it probably will. If no one took his case.

“I know...! I know that! But I don't want your help, okay?”

“Why not?!”

His shoulders curve inward. “... Look, just go away, and leave me alone!” He snapped sweeping his hand out with a snarl.

His eyes are red. Bloodshot – although there’s no chance it’s from tears.

“It’s because you did it, didn’t you?”

And somewhere in that black heart of his he knows better than to drag Phoenix down with him.

“Mia!” Wright snaps in a rare displace of force. “Let’s go investigate elsewhere.”

“Wright…”

He stood. The chair screeches against the floor and she watches Edgeworth flinch at the sound.

Fine.

Edgeworth’s detective claimed the man spoke highly of them. Seemed truly dumbfounded that they were turned down. Doesn’t stop him from trying to help.

He hands over a picture of the deceased.

“That’s Robert Hammond.”

The case unraveled before her.

They sit in front of Edgeworth and there are so many locks that there is no way they have enough. But Wright speaks and all the red locks rattle. Like Edgeworth wants to tell him. Longs to tell him.

She wonders, in a passive sort of way, if Wright held the magatama would he see only one?

“DL-6.”

There is a sharp exhale. His head falls forward. The red locks shatter.

“The ‘DL-6 Incident’... was when my father died. Right before my eyes... He was shot and killed, and I saw it all.”

He spoke. Her stomach knotted. DL-6. She wasn’t the only one who lost a parent from that incident.

“My memories from that time are... foggy. I suppose it's a self-defense mechanism. In any case, a suspect was arrested... a man. It's pretty clear he was the only one who could have killed my father.”

Foggy. The room goes dark once more. The slide of heavy chains. Red. She expects red.

They are black. Every lock is black. Dark. Cold. Filled with despair.

A lie he keeps even from himself.

“The spirit medium they used to talk to my late father said the same thing.” Her Mother. “It was an attorney by the name of Robert Hammond that cleared the suspect's name.”

“And Hammond... is the victim in the Gourd Lake murder?”

“Correct.”

There is a danger to black Psych-Locks. That removing them by force will damage the keepers mind.

Blocking out memories in self-defense. He even explained it himself.

The earthquake rumbles but it is the violent rattling of his locks that causes her pain.

He curled up on the floor. Quaking. His locks rattle and in the shaking of his hand and the gasping of his rapid breaths she can see every time they tear at the fabric of his mind.

Worse yet, there is nothing they can do except watch as the guards drag his limp form back to his cell.

Edgeworth warned them about what they’re up against. Von Karma.

It’s not like she hasn’t faced him before. Once. Twice. She doesn’t allow her concern to show but if she gripped Wright’s lapels and shakes him a little harder than she should when she scolds him it’s probably because she knows what a battle this will be.

Wright doesn’t though. He’s blissfully unaware of the nightmare ahead of them. How even getting their legally required cross examination will be an uphill battle.

She really hopes this isn’t how he learns why none of the other attorneys would defend Edgeworth.

What was it he’d said? They ‘Lacked confidence because he’d had all their defendants convicted?’

Edgeworth was lying about that part. And Von Karma was far worse.

“Why did you pick up that gun anyway?!”

He grimaced. Hand digging into his elbow. “I don’t know. I was in a daze when I picked it up.”

Black slide into place. She braces for the cold chill this time.

There is one less locked in place.

Removing them forcibly can damage the owners mind. They were created to protect them after all.

“I know those interrogations can be brutal, how are you holding up?”

He glares at her. The bruises under his eyes speak to his lack of sleep. To the way this has been eating at him.

She hadn’t removed the lock. Neither had Wright.

She wondered who had.

The second day is brutal. They’d almost lost. But as it stood now it looked like they would win.

The locks rattled. Volume growing as it had throughout the entire trial.

“Hey, Edgeworth…”

He didn’t respond. The locks rattled louder.

“Edgeworth!”

He jumped. Dazed eyes focusing on her. “D-did you say something?”

(Oh we were just discussing your case- no need to pay attention. It’s not like it matters to you at all!)

“Come on! Stop looking so pained! At this point we’ve got it in the bag!” She slapped his shoulder. He side stepped away from her. “Relax.”

“… I’m sorry… But… I fear it’s not over for me yet.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

The locks rattled. The chains shook. The truth he hid from even himself.

“Wright... There's something that's been troubling me for a long time now. And I don't know whether or not to tell you...”

Black locks clicked into place. Only three remained.

What had happened to the others?

“No... there's so little time left. I want to tell you, to get it off my chest, but...’

“What is this about, Edgeworth?”

She drew back. Let herself sink into the background.

He saved me Mia. If you could have seen him back then-

I know somethings wrong. I want to pay him back.

He stared down at his attorney’s badge. Closed his fist around it.

I became an attorney because of him. So I could see him again.

Gaaaaaay.

Chief!

Sorry.

If anyone can reach Edgeworth it was Wright.

“... It's... a nightmare I've had. A memory of a crime... that I committed.”

Those locks shake. The heavy grating sound of metal pulling at his mind.

Sometimes people forget things to protect themselves. In self Defense.

“A memory... of a murder.”

“What?!”

They yank and jerk against the chains. Trying to rip free by sheer force.

You’re hurting yourself! She does not object.

“I… I want to tell you but…”

The bailiff doesn’t give him a chance. He’s escorted away.

They stared down at the letter.

“But it says ‘get revenge on Edgeworth’… Why would he want to take revenge on you?”

One lock. Black as total darkness slides into place.

He closes his eyes and it shatters.

There is no evidence of the pain it causes. No bleeding wounds or pained cries.

But he opens his eyes and she is certain something within him has died. He tells them about his nightmare.

Innocence. The illusion of innocence has died.

“But that’s just a dream!” Wright objected when he fell silent.

“… That thought is the only thing that has kept me sane for the last 15 years. But what if I’m wrong? What if it’s real? They say sometimes people shut out memories in self-defense. Maybe it was I who killed my father.”

It’s the truth.

“If you think about it that way, this letter makes sense. Think about it. Yogi was really innocent. That’s why he wanted revenge on me.”

When he confesses on the stand none of them are surprised. Not even Von Karma. How many of those interrogations did they spend together? Did he spend ripping apart the protective locks around his own protégée’s mind?

Wright and her walk home after the first trail.

“You wouldn’t prosecute me, right?”

“Well I’m not a prosecutor so…”

He sinks further into a gloom.

“I’m joking!” Shoulder checked him. “Obviously not.”

Edgeworth is in awe of Von Karma. Awe being a fitting word. Referential respect of both wonder and fear.

Fear.

“You were a child.”

“Accidental murder is still murder Ms. Fey.”

Edgeworth might have given up but Wright. Wright has not.

Trust. Trust your client until the end. This is what she’s taught him.

But… Phoenix. Sometimes the guilty are guilty.

He looked up from the case files. Smiled with a confidence that wasn’t just a bluff.

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe in your nightmare. It’s just a bad dream.”

There are heavy black locks around Edgeworth’s heart. Protecting him from a ‘truth’ too terrible to believe.

But testimony is flawed and just because he believes in one explanation of events doesn’t make it the Truth.

The truth will set you free. Of the black locks around your heart – she’d thought.

Phoenix does something truly amazing then.

He saves him.

“You are innocent Mr. Edgeworth. You were innocent.”

“… Thank you, Your Honor.”

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #mia fey #phoenix Wright #au mia lives #just cause i wanted to discuss the pshye locks edgeworth would have had if that mechanic had existed #writing

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