#never saw a one eyed frog until today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoony-parker · 2 years ago

Note

Hiii!! I was wondering if you could do a Steve x reader which is based of the lyric “as long as I’m here, no one can hurt you” where the reader is going through something and Steve is there to help her?? xoxo

a/n: i loved this, anon 😭❤️‍🩹 also, i changed the "no one" for "nothing" for the sake of the context bahaha. enjoy! <3

btw, the dreams i mention were actually dreams i've had lmao

warnings: none, ig? fluff and angst, not proofread (oops)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

w/c: 1.9k (i just couldn't stop i'm so sorry)

steve could see right through you.

and he was very proud to say that he was the only person that knew you so well. of course that didn't come easily. he's had years of practice.

it came with being your best friend since you were sixteen, up until now, at nineteen years old, and now your friendship's developed into something more.

in reality, though, steve firmly believed he had some sort of gift when it came to you. he could almost feel whatever mood you were in radiating from your body and flying towards him.

it was like, apart from the cedar and apple scent he smelled on you every time you were near him, god, that intoxicating scent of yours, he could smell the mood you were in at that exact moment. and he'd swear to robin that no, it wasn't as creepy as he made it sound.

he really did believe he could tell when you weren't feeling your best. and it actually helped him make you feel better without having you tell him what's happening inside of that pretty head of yours, because he knows damn well you wouldn't tell him a thing.

he'd buy you flowers, offer to give you a massage, or even bring your favourite corny rom-com from family video to watch with you. no matter how much he hated the movie, he'd learn to love it with how many times you've made him watch it.

but, today, you were giving steve the silent treatment. not a single word heard from you since you've last spoken through the phone yesterday, and he couldn't help the little tingle he felt in his upper arms, the limbs growing numb in worry. he couldn't even explain the feeling.

last night you sounded just fine during your usual late-night phone call. should he have paid more attention to you? your tone? if you've spoken less than usual? how many pet names you've told him through the phone?

had he done something to upset you? 'cause, as good as steve was reading your expressions and your mood, he really had no idea what was going on with you.

so he drove directly to your house after his shift at work ended, grabbing the little ceramic turtle that laid beside your front door, a big, white-pearl smile on its lips that freaked steve out every single time, and was quick to grab the spare key that was hidden beneath, shuddering when he placed the small, greenish figure back down, and the brown eyed could have sworn he saw the damned frog's eyes following his moves.

he gave it a glare, opening the door carefully as not to make any noise in case you were sleeping, closing it behind him and locked it with the key, letting the key chain swing shortly, and took his shoes off and laid them under the coat rack next to the door.

your parents weren't home— something about an anniversary trip, he recalled you telling him— so he relaxed that he didn't have to deal with your dad interrogating him about what he had planned for the rest of his life with that stern look of his that made the little hairs in steve's arms raise. yeah, your father could be quite intimidating when he wanted to.

he climbed up the stairs, sock-clad feet barely making any noise against the wooden floor of your home, and he just begged to remember correctly which stairs squeaked so he could avoid them; you've always been a light sleeper.

he reached your room, your door completely closed, wich made steve frown. you never usually closed your door completely if there wasn't anyone home at all, and he was almost certain that you knew that you were home alone.

he softly turned the doorknob, pushing the door open, frown deepening when he found the curtains closed and a big lump under your covers.

steve walked towards your bed, sitting on the edge and put a hand over your sheet-covered body. "y/n's not here," your voice sounded muffled from under the covers. "leave a message after the sound."

steve chuckled. "how did you know it was me?" he asked. "it could have been a murderer, for all you know."

"saw your car from the window," you explained. "and i really doubt that freddy krueger has a 1981 BMW."

"hey, don't judge a book by its cover. the dude's a serial killer during the night, but he could be a car lover during the day," he said. "you're right. sorry for supposing," you said, still hiding under the covers.

he rubber your back, staying silent for a couple of seconds before speaking up. "were you sleeping? did i wake you?"

he saw your head moving repeatedly under the fabric, and he could only assume it was a shake of your head. "nuh-uh. woke up a while ago, though," you informed him, and he smiled rather sympathetically at the lack of energy in your voice.

he nodded in understanding, although you couldn't see him. "in a scale from one to ten, how weird was your dream?"

these were usually the kinds of conversations you had. you had the craziest dreams, and would always tell him what they were about. from you being a superhero fighting a gigantic blowfish that was attacking the earth, to buying weapons from your favourite rock star during a zombie apocalypse.

after learning this from you, he'd always ask you, on a scale from one to ten, just how weird your dream had been after a long nap you had taken. this time, though, his little, hopeful smile faltered when you stayed silent.

"sweetheart?" he asked, grabbing the edge of the covers. "can i see you?"

you didn't answer, and steve took the silence as a yes and uncovered you. you were curled up in a ball, laying in your pijamas and his sweatshirt covering your upper half. he looked quickly up to your face, noticing your exhausted look and the dark circles under your eyes. "angel," he cooed, laying down next to you.

you buried your face further into your pillow, bottom lip quivering and you had to bite it to stop shaking, your eyes squeezed shut.

steve took one of your hands, noticing how both of them were curled into fists, something he'd noticed you did whenever you felt anxiety. from the strength of your grip, after a while, your fingers would start aching, or you'd quite literally bury your fingernails into the palms of your hands. so, he took the hand that was resting agains the half of your body facing up, bringing it to his lips and placing soft kisses on your fingers and knuckles.

once he felt the tension leaving your hands a bit, he gently used his other hand to open your hand, massaging your fingers to help the ache in your muscles fade away. when he finished up with that hand, he pushed your shoulder carefully, signing you to lay on your back, so he'd have easier access to your other hand.

you obliged with a huff, opening your eyes to look at the ceiling. they were glazed over, steve noticed, filled with unshed tears that he determined to kiss away as soon as they fell.

he repeated his movements with your other hand, and he took both of your now relaxed limbs into his lap, pushing them together and rubbinf gently over the skin to replace the cold with a little warmth. "wanna talk about it?" he offered. you shook your head, turning to your side so you could hide your face in his lap.

steve accommodated, himself so you could lay more comfortably, and he run his fingers through your hair, sighing a little in concern. "don't feel like talkin' jus' yet," you told him, voice soft and vulnerable, and steve could feel his heart stuttering at the sound, at how small you sounded.

"that's okay," he said, combing his fingers through your hair, careful not to pull on any knots. he braided your hair, humming to a song he listened on the radio on his way to your house, and you even smiled a little at the sound.

steve hadn't noticed, though, busy working on your hair. you looked up from your spot on his lap, cheeks heating up at the mere sight of him.

even from down there, he looked so pretty— lips pursed and a gentle, almost non-existent crease in his brows in concentration as he continued to braid your hair with fine strands. they were a little messed up, some bumps and hairs out of place, but you appreciated the efforts nonetheless, heart swelling in affection.

you noticed he wasn't wearing the family video vest anymore. instead, he wore that yellow sweatshirt of his that you loved so much on him, and some blue, worn out jeans that sometimes hung too low on his hips and left little to the imagination as soon as he lifted his short from his body.

his hair looked tousled, and eyes almost as exhausted as you could only imagine looked yours, but you smiled at the sight anyway. he looked awfully pretty, and there was just something domestic about him taking care of you this way that left your head spinning, your mind dizzy and your heart fluttering.

he looked down, noticing your stare and your smile widened just slightly when you saw the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. steve smiled down at you, happy you found comfort in him and that he could lift your mood up at least a little bit, and he leaned down to give the tip of your nose a kiss that had you scrunching it up adorably, just the way that made steve want to grab you entirely and wrap himself around you under the covers and just stay there for the rest of eternity.

now you could feel a little more energy running up and down your body — it could've been the giddy feeling you had every time steve was around, too — but, either way, you sat up and quickly, without giving steve time to question your sudden motions, you sat on his lap, thighs wrapping firmly around his and, embracing him with a little more force than you had meant to, you accidently brought the two of you down to the mattress — not that steve was complaining at all.

he chuckled deeply, the vibrations of his voice resonating all the way to your chest, and you hugged him even tighter, face buried deep into the juncture of his neck. his arms wrapped all the way around your waist and back, big, calloused hands rubbing up and down your bag affectionaly. the warmth made you feel dizzy, and the way this man cared for you do deeply brought tears to your eyes, already emotional from your previous mood.

it seemed as if steve had noticed without even having to look properly into your face, the way you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders and how you nuzzled deeper into the skin of his neck had him bringing a hand to the back of your head, keeping you in place, where you hid and felt the safety you hadn't felt in the last couple of days.

he still hadn't gotten you to talk to him, but having you close and feeling safe with him wrapped around you was more than enough for now, and way more than he thought he was getting when he stepped into your home earlier that day. so, keeping this in mind, he hugged you closer, rolling the two of you to the side and bringing the duvet back on you, still caressing sweetly your hair.

he kissed your forehead a couple of times, lips moving against the skin as he spoke, the warmth of his breath spreading comfort to your body.

"as long as i'm here, nothing can hurt you."

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve x reader #stranger things spoilers #steve stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things s4 #stranger things #i think i'm phisically impossible to write something short #i shoud probably learn to go straight to the point #i need a steve though #like so bad

251 notes · View notes

wispstalk · 2 years ago

Text

morning

a scene featuring a few survivors of Kvatch, trying their best to go on with their lives. ~1000 words. cw: mention of severe injuries and deaths

---

When Rona wakes she forgets it happened. She expects to be under her favorite old quilt, straw poking through the worn ticking of her mattress, staring up at the crack in her ceiling that looks a bit like a heron in flight. Gianna’s soft breathing, always to the left. Outside, the first stirrings as Kvatch wakes with the dawn: frogs peeping and hens burbling, carts rolling by on their way to the meat market, the scent of coffee wafting over from the stall around the corner.

But overhead is a blank slope of canvas. Nothing but a couple of deer hides between her and the ground, and no warmth beside her. No Kvatch, either, just the miserable hush of the camp. She hadn’t been dreaming of the city, nor her fiancee— no, it was the sunflower dream again.

In the chapel, delirious from blood loss. Golden petals morphing into wild blonde curls. The woman who brought a cloth to bite down on, so the poor beleaguered priest could saw off the mangled ruin below Rona's knee. That woman kept her from thrashing with one strong arm, and gently stroked her hair with the other, until the pain pulled her under. But just before that all-consuming blackness, she saw a sunflower— thought perhaps someone had brought her to die under the last of this summer’s blooms, which was thoughtful of them.

But she woke again. Here in the camp, with all the other hollow-eyed survivors. Propped up near a fire and wrapped in what must have been a horse blanket. Woozy, chewing black willow bark that did nothing for the dull, throbbing ache in her leg— her stump, she’d bitterly corrected herself— when the sunflower flashed in her vision again and she looked up to see that same woman. It’ll be all right, the woman said. They’ll look out for you, and you’ll look out for them.

There are others who have it worse, Rona knows. Half her leg missing, and Gianna entombed in the ruins of their little rented hovel. But there are some who share this makeshift medic’s tent whose burnt flesh is warped like wet clay, some in the fevered claws of skooma withdrawal, some who will never walk again. She can, at least, take a crutch and hobble out to the cookfire or the privy.

And all of them lost someone. All of them have no home— only this camp, in the shadow of its husk.

She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. It’s not good to start the morning off like this. The old healer Oleta often urges her to walk as much as she can, to keep her intact leg strong, to get used to the crutch, but damn it all— she isn’t up for it today. The first strains of sunlight seeping through the tent flap feel hateful.

But when she blinks her eyes open again, a scrawny mop-headed Orcish boy is staring down at her.

“Hi,” he blurts. “I’m Makob.”

She places a finger to her lips, and gestures at the sleeping convalescents around her. “Hello, little one. Are you looking for Oleta?”

��No, you. You’re the lady with one leg,” he declares in a stage whisper. “Are you Cori’s friend?”

“Cori?”

“Her real name is…um… Corar…di. She’s a bossimer with yellow hair.”

“Bosmer,” Rona murmurs, blinking. “Um— well, no, I’m afraid I don’t know her. But she saved me. She and Brother Martin.”

“Brother Martin, is that the priest?” The boy crouches on the trampled grass beside her bedroll. “Big Makob said that priest left with the Hero, and Cori did too. But she talked to you first.”

Rona had been unconscious for the duration of these apparent heroics; she gathers the siege was lifted by a whirlwind, an avenging spirit sent by the gods, or some bloodthirsty beast-man, depending on who’s telling the story.

“Well, she’s my friend,” Makob informs her, “and she saved me, too. There was a big crash,” — he flings his arms overhead in a wide arc— “and she grabbed me and Big Makob out of our tent and made us go out with the city watch. But she wouldn’t come with us. And I didn’t get to… how come she said goodbye to you and not to me?”

His voice quavers well above a whisper, and his lip trembles. A tent— he must have lived in the slums by the southern wall. And so, it follows, did the sunflower woman. So that’s one more thing she knows about her savior.

She lays a gentling hand on his arm. “Mind your volume, tadpole. Come, why don’t you fetch me my crutch and we can go sit by the fire and talk?”

He wipes his nose on his sleeve, raven-black curls flopping into his eyes, and darts off to get it.

Few are up at this hour. The scavenging group sits clustered around the fire, cooling their heels, returned from combing the city for supplies. A grim lot. Arkay only knows what horrors they find among the rubble. And Oleta is awake, heating water in a dented copper pot. The healer blinks in surprise as Rona approaches, then her face softens into a warm smile.

One of the scavengers, a grizzled old woman with a shorn head and an eyepatch, wordlessly offers an arm to steady Rona as she lowers herself to the grass. Makob plops down beside her.

Free from the quiet of the medical tent, he launches into a garbled secondhand story about the Hero of Kvatch. Then it's onto wild speculation about why this man might have left with their own — less notorious — hero. Oleta and the scavengers listen to him weave his epic tale, faint smiles playing on their weary faces.

Rona nods along, occasionally prompting him with questions, until a nutty scent catches her attention. The same rich dark aroma that used to drift through her shutters, early in the mornings.

“By the Nine,” she blurts. “Someone found coffee?”

Across the fire, Oleta grins. The grizzled old woman shares a triumphant glance with her colleagues. Rona lets out a delighted laugh, and flings her arms around Makob, squeezing him tight until he squirms free. Among all this mourning, coffee is a tiny joy, but she will hoard every crumb she’s offered— like the innocent bluntness of a child; like the silent offer of help from a stranger; like the memory of a bright sunflower, turning its exuberant face to the light.

#tes oblivion #elder scrolls #ray writes #oc: coradri #oc: rona

37 notes · View notes

sslow-dancer · 4 years ago

Note

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

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

“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

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

You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.��

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

172 notes · View notes

sdv-mostly-shane · 3 years ago

Note

not sure if this has been asked or written before, but what a about a 'sort of cryptid like farmer' and shane? a farmer that's just a little bit more on the non human side kinda thing, if thats alright

A special Spooktember treat for you guys- I hope you enjoy. Been saving this one until it was appropriately close enough to spooky season. Also- TIL that goblincore is a quite delightful aesthetic-read til the end to get the full ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* vibes *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ they’re feral AND charming.

Just Goblin Things

Summary: There’s something sinister in Cindersnap Forest, and Shane is the one to come face to face with the creature. What he finds is a more than just a little magical, and he can’t wait to discover more.

Trigger warning : very brief, vague insinuations of alcohol; general spookyness.

“Seb, how many more until we can go back to my house?’

“Just a minute, Sam. I can hear one croaking just over there…“

“Yoba, what was that!-look, there in the bush!” A flash of green had caught Abigails eye, followed by a loud scrambling noise. She pushed herself off the ground, using Sam’s shoulder as a boost, and leaped toward the sound, searching for its maker.

“What kind of frog was that?”

“I didn’t even see anything. Probably just some raccoon or something.” They watched Abby crawl around a small thicket of bushes, peeking in between branches as she went. “Leave it alone, Abby, you don’t want to catch rabies.”

“Raccoons don’t have green eyes, Seb,” she said, as she perked her head up to listen to a faint crinkling of leaves. “Listen, do you hear that? It almost sounds like.. hissing?”

“What, like a snake?”

“No, like a-AH!” Abby shrieked, and fell back. The two boys ran towards her. “No, get back, it might see you!” She was referencing the massive pair of green speckled eyes that were now accompanied with a gnarly, toothy grimace emerging from the bush. From it, came an ungodly snarling and hissing.

“Alright, time to go,” Seb yanked the two teenagers away from the creature, and they started to run. Once they had made it inside Sam’s house, the trio slammed his bedroom door and jumped on the bed. They sat for a moment in silence, listening to each other’s panting breath. Abby began to say something, but Sebastian interrupted, “we’re not gonna talk about it. Just don’t-nothing happened. We didn’t see anything. Got it?” Abby huffed in frustration, and protested with him, arguing that they needed to get back out there and figure it out. All Sam could do was stare at his floor, stunned at what had just happened.

The next day, Sam went to start his shift at the Joja Mart on edge from the night before. Shane was working the freezer when he spotted him-he had picked up a packaged of individually sealed pancakes seven minutes ago and was still staring at it, unmoving. “Uh, you alright, bud?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” His voice seemed far away, but he managed to finally move, making to put away the product. He turned to him, “Shane, you live in Cindersnap Forest. Have you ever seen anything… weird… there?”

“You mean besides Mayor Lewis sneaking out the back window and crawling around the house, thinking I can’t see him?”

“What?”

“No, never seen anything.”

“Well we did, Abby, Seb, and I, last night.”

“And?”

“Well, nothing really actually happened-it just scared us, really. Made a really ugly sound and showed it’s teeth to us. It must have just been some animal… but the thing is… gah, I can’t even say it.”

Shane tossed a bag of multipurpose detergent at him, demanding, “C’mon, say it.”

“Ouch, Yoba, alright. I didn’t tell the others, but when we were running away, I looked back and.. and well, I saw it run away and it was on two legs like a person.”

“Hah, okay you got me. There’s nothing in that forest, kid, don’t think about it too much.” Shane slapped the back of Sam’s shoulder, bidding him to just do his work, and went about finishing the stocking. He’d look over, occasionally, to see the golden-haired teen zoned into space again, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to really care at that point; he just needed to get through his shift.

______________________________________________

Shane looked at his phone-11:26 PM. He’d gone out, not able to sleep, and forced himself to take a cold walk through the woods to avoid the saloon. Shivering, not just from the cold, he made his way over to the edge of the lake. He enjoyed watching the little sparkling fish swim, their silver scales glisten underneath the shallow water… Swishing and splashing and crashing-crashing? He flipped his body around to see the source of the crash-in front of the big tree, in a disheveled pile, sat the farmer. They were brushing the leaves out of their hair and dusting off their knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh! Goodness, Shane, you scared me.”

“You’re the one who fell out of the tree.”

The farmer finger-gunned, “You got me there,” and stood up, gathering the belongings that tumbled from their satchel.

Shane watched them, and smirked at seeing them covered in Earth matter-leaves, moss, dirt-it all seemed to have managed to stick to them as they tumbled down the tree. “You’re covered in dirt.”

“Oh, yeah I am.” The farmer brushed off their apron and body. Dirt, rocks, and leaves fell from their arms, but the moss stayed firmly attached.

Now with a clear view, Shane could see that their skin wasn’t quite right. It looked jaundiced from their shoulders down, where the color faded to a sickly vibrant green down to their finger tips. The moss had attached itself to their elbows and seemed to grow down to their fingertips. As the farmer moved about, their arms coming in and out of scattered streaks of moonlight, he could almost see it blinking at him. Was it growing on their arm? He blinked trying to make sense of it, “No, no I meant your arms have-“

“Oh, Hey Franklin.”

Shane’s jaw hung open on his words. Emerging from the Farmers.. arm moss?.. emerged a little frog. It opened and closed its mouth a few times before letting out a tiny ‘ribbit’.

“Yeah, I found this little guy a few weeks ago and he just didn’t want to leave. He likes to come with me on our nightly mushroom hunts.” Franklin went cross eyed as he focus on a little bug flittering past before catching it with a satisfying crunch. “Oh, that was a good one, Frankie.”

“Okay I’m gonna go now,” Shane regained control of his jaw, resolutely shoved his hands in his pockets, and started to turn away.

“Wait! You’re not gonna tell anyone my secret are you?”

“Tell them what, that you keep a secret frog hidden somewhere in your arm?”

“No, everyone should know about Franklin, he’s precious. I meant-you know what, can I just show you?” The farmer reached out their hand in an offer for Shane to grab.

He hesitated-he only barely knew the farmer, having really only seen them run past him at full speed with a pick axe held high above their head-but he was in desperate need of a distraction tonight.

The farmer, seeing his reservation, offered up, “come sit down with me, I’ll make us some tea.”

“I don’t drink tea.”

“Well I’ll tell you some of my other secrets?”

He was in too deep now, his curiosity overtaking his tentativeness, “Alright.” He accepted their hand; his fingertips flexed atop their hand, cushioned by the lush, damp covering of green.

Holding his hand, they led him to their crash-landing zone under the tree, where they sat down. As the farmer sat, legs tucked into each other, Shane thought he saw their body hesitate mid-air for half a second. He then was sure that he saw a little fairy ring of mushrooms pop out of the ground with a glimmering puff of orange dust as the farmers body finally made contact with the ground.

“Please, sit.” Shane pretended to not be concerned, but the farmer smiled to themselves as they spotted him cautiously glancing down to the ground as he gingerly lowered himself to sit. Satisfied, the farmer opened up their satchel and pulled out their trinkets for tea-two wooden cups, a shiny silver teapot with a mismatched spoon, and a box of vials and jars. Opening, smelling, taking, and closing the little jars, they began to make the tea. The beautiful earthy colors of the roots, grasses, and leaves peeled out over the edge of the cups. Craning their body, they reached over to the other circle of mushrooms where they crashed, and plucked a purple one.

As they filled the teacups, Shane watched in horror as the they grasped a moth straight out of the air, ripped a wing off, and shredded it into the two cups. He hoped to Yoba the ‘tea’ was done, but they pulled out one final vial. Swallowing, he asked, “Who’s hair is that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The farmer pick up the teapot, cradling it in their palms. As the silver started to glow red hot, the farmers hair flew up, standing straight when the teapot began to steam. They poured the hot water into the cups.

“Okay, I get it, I know what this is.”

“What is?”

“I just had a few too many today, and I’m actually just super hammered right now and it’s making me see things. I’m gonna go to bed, now”

“But I didn’t see you at the saloon today?”

“Well, no, but if I think about it too much I’m gonna freak out a little bit,” he pushed his hands off to stand, “so I’m just gonna say that this isn’t real and-“

The farmer reached out their hand to him once more. He stood, frozen, as he watched twigs emerge from their fingertips, growing into branches, followed by leaves, and finishing with a delicate flower unfurling inches away from where he stood.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Take it.”

“Take it? But it’s.. attached.”

“Just take it,” the farmer smiled.

He picked it, cupping it in his palms, and brought it to his chest. He watched in awe as the flower petals began to sway, and tiny white fairies sprouted from the pollen. Transfixed, he stood holding his breath as the hazy creatures danced around the petals.

While he watched, eyes big and lit up, the farmer quietly pulled out from their satchel a little carved wooden chair. While Franklin hopped down and plopped onto the chair, the farmer plucked another tiny mushroom, removing the stalk, and tipped a mini-portion of tea from their cup into the cap. They handed it to Franklin who busied himself with dunking his head in and out of the tea and screaming into it.

Shane, remembering his need to breathe, finally gasped and attempted to sputter something intelligible out, but just as he thought of a semi-formed sentence, the dancing fairies suddenly burst into a frenzy of colorful fire. They continued their elaborate dance until the last of them fizzled out, and there was nothing left of the dancing flower except misty smoke and white ash.

“You can keep that-here, pour it into here,” they handed an empty vial to Shane, “sprinkle it on your doorstep and it’ll protect you and your loved ones.”

He did as he was told, not even questioning it at this point-he wanted to know more and how and why and what. Finished, he sat back down, facing the farmer, watching them lift the teacup to their lips. “So uh, does the tree thing happen a lot, or just at night, because I’ve seen you during the day and it doesn’t look like that.”

“No, you’re right, see the thing is, it’s when I- HHREEEEEEEEEK!”

Shane tumbled back in shock, catching himself with his elbows and hands. The farmer had let out an awful screech, showing their (formerly enchanting smile) now fanged row of gnarly teeth. In an instant, their eyes grew and melted into dinner plate-sized puddles of green. Shane yanked his head to match the direction of the farmers leer, where he saw a scruffy-looking opossum attempting to sneak their grubby hands around Franklin. The caught-and foiled-thief returned the farmers screech with a feral ‘hiss’ of its own, before it clambered back into dark bushes.

As quickly as the transformation happened, the farmer returned to normal just the same, meeting Shane’s stunned eyes with their own-now regular sized-smiling eyes. “Can’t be letting Franklin become someone’s snack, now can we?” They laughed and smiled to themselves, giving Franklin a little finger pat.

He was stunned, again. He blinked his way around the farmers face and body, searching for something that would make sense of his feelings. Was it repulsion? Fascination? Perhaps even a little attraction? The farmers little twinkling laugh would normally be very charming to him, but the circumstances of it were overwhelmingly frightening… if not still partially alluring. He settled his searching to focus on their smile-they offered it up so freely to him.

The farmer had waited for him to get settled back into a relaxed position before they continued, “Now what was it you were asking me, dear?”

“I was asking about your arms, that they normally aren’t literal trees,” he stoped, “dear?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends now, aren’t we? Would you prefer me to call you something else?”

“… no, that’s fine.”

They sat together for a few moments in silence while the farmer drank their tea, and Shane gathered the courage to at least sip the leafy moth water. (It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. He swished his tongue around his mouth to feel for any fuzzy winged remains, but couldn’t find any. It was smooth, and still hot. While he pondered, Franklin made a few flighty hops over to where his foot was resting, and jumped up onto his sneaker-he was trying to bite the laced up shoestrings.

He let out a little laugh-what a strange little animal. He looked up at the farmer and thought ‘what a strange little.. goblin.’ He let himself stare a bit-they didn’t seem to mind. They had taken off their hat by now, and revealed a pair of little pronged antlers that were hidden underneath. They were encrusted with clusters of crystals, which glittered with every turn and tilt of the farmers head. He continued to drink his tea, getting more accustomed to it with each sip, and watched the scattered moonlight refract off the crystals onto the ground. There, where the prismatic light met earth, a misting of teeny white flowers sprouted and bloomed. Shane had always been appreciative of the wonders of nature, but he had never seen it this beautiful. The farmer seemed connected to the earth, each breathing life into the other. It was humbling. And it-they-were beautiful.

The farmer finally caught his eye, and looked down, now a bit embarrassed. They didn’t mind the scrutiny-it wasn’t out of judgement, they knew, just curiosity. Truth be told, the feeling was more of self consciousness than anything. It was always daunting to show anyone their true selves, but to Shane? His gaze was so honest and searching that it was intimidating. Still feeling his eyes on them, the farmer briefly looked up through their lashes to give him a shy smile, and then turned their attention to the lake.

Shane broke the silence, “Any other goblins in their you wanna tell me about,” he motioned to the lake.

“Nah, that lake is occupied already.”

“Ah, I was just playing. Of course, it’s occupied with fish.”

The farmer was silent

He turned to them, only slightly panicky, “With fish right?”

“Mmhmm yeah fish, lots of fish.” They pursed their lips tight and took a nervous sip of their already empty tea.

Shane squinted to the water, studying it, and caught a glimpse of some bubbles rupturing on the distant surface. He scooted closer to the farmer.

With the shoulders pressed up against each other, the farmer reassured him, “Don’t worry, I got you,” and took hold of his hand.

Shane eased his body deeper against their shoulder with a sigh. He took a peek at the farmer’s face just in time to see an attractive blush warm their cheeks. He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over the tops of their knuckles. They sat together, watching the lake, while the moon rose higher in the sky.

“Did you call me a goblin?” The farmer broke the trance.

Shane let out a hearty laugh, “What other kind of magical creature sneaks around in the dark and scares neighborhood children?”

The farmer returned the laugh, and finger gunned once more, “you know what, you got me there again, Shane.” The pair filled the foggy air with the sound of their laughter, pushing their bodies still even closer together.

“If you don’t want your cover blown, you should probably stop doing that, you know, screeching at teenagers.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” the farmer said with a small growl and a wink.

It was Shane’s turn to blush, now. He looked down at their hands, still cupped together, and smiled. “What other magic secrets do you have?”

“ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* Let me show you.*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ “

#stardew valley #sdv shane #stardew shane #farmer x shane #sdv fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #sdv au #goblin things #cryptid

81 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Pranksters of the Bunch (Harry Potter AU)

Y/n is just starting to get comfortable with her new friends, when she learns about their more... playful side. We learn about more relationships and see hints of our endgame. We also get a glimpse of some other players that make up the rest of our version of Hogwarts. @literaryhedgehog

Pt. 1

“For next class, homework is to practice your transfiguration. Anyone who can get their matchstick into a needle is exempt from writing their essay. You are dismissed,” Professor McGonagall said, tapping her wand on the blackboard so the notes from the day’s lesson disappeared. As the other students began filing out of the room you picked up your bag and dropped your notes into it, careful to set your “quill” gently so the bic ballpoint pen you taped to it wouldn’t fall off.

“If you epoximose it, you won’t have to worry about it falling off” Lindsey said with an eye roll, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Some of your habits were a bit… odd. Like your preference for a pen that you didn’t have to dip in ink.

“I’m sorry, if I what?” you asked. “That sounds like a sneeze.”

“It’s a spell that’ll glue it so you don’t need to use spell-o-tape,” Kelley said, appearing on your other side as Professor McGonagall left the room.

“I can teach you, if you like. It’s super simple, even a first year could do it,” Emily offered, ignoring Lindsey’s sideways glare.

“Then why don’t they teach it to us as first years?” You said, slamming your chair under the desk. Not that you disliked any of your classes, but the curriculum seemed to leave out a lot of useful information.

“Because they’re afraid that it’ll just help students do better pranks,” Lindsey huffed, crossing her arms. If anyone was going to teach you things, it should be her.

“No they’re not,” Ashlyn said, rolling her eyes. “They teach tricky techniques that are applicable to multiple spells. It’s like quidditch drills.”

“Cause it’s so much less challenging than fighting a boggart, or accioing anything. If you mess it up, then you could glue your fingers together,” Emily snorted, shaking her head. She was just lucky that Madam Pomfrey liked her enough to not rat her out to Professor Slughorn (not that he’d actually do anything) or Professor Longbottom.

“Or accidentally drop a banner on the Huffelpuffs?” Ashlyn said with a raised eyebrow. Emily and Kelley seemed to shrink just a bit under her gaze.

“That was you?” You asked, eyes wide. That banner had almost knocked Cheney off her broom and Amy was pissed. Rumor had it that the Slytherin captain had taken care of the incident because it was someone in her house that did it, but no one knew for sure (at least you thought no one knew).

“You can’t prove anything,” Emily grumbled.

“It was them,” Lindsey nodded, smirking at you. “and Arod made sure they not only apologized, but that they actually meant it. Kelley only got away unscathed because she hid in Gryffindor tower,”

Those two always got themselves in over their heads and something always went wrong. You could only wonder what the Slytherin chaser did to them. Amy was terrifying when she wanted to be especially when you messed with her girlfriend.

“Of course I meant it, the banner wasn’t supposed to fall,” Emily grumbled. “The charm was supposed to last the whole game. Anyway, she made me practice the sticking charm and its reverse a hundred times so it wouldn’t happen again. Not that it matters next year when I’m actually on the team. It’s stupid that they still don’t want second years to play beater.”

“At least this time there won’t be any accidents,” Ashlyn said, smirking as she settled into a chair previously vacated by some of your second year peers. Which was when you realized it was kind of odd that she was here. Wasn’t she a third year student?

“What do you mean?” You asked, your head tilting to the side like a puppy.

“Wait THIS time?” Lindsey, asked, looking between the three girls settling down at the desks like it wasn’t the end of the day’s classes. “Don’t tell me you’re planning another prank right now?”

“Of course not!” Kelley said, looking aghast.

“You haven’t left the room yet,” Emily said, adopting a similarly innocent, wide eyed expression.

“They’re going to be dumbasses and probably get detention for a month aren’t they?” You asked, looking at Lindsey for help. Though you had know been hanging out with them for the past few weeks, they were still her friends after all.

“Oh. I don’t want detention though,” Ashlyn said flipping through a spellbook absentmindedly. “And it will be rather hard to prove we have anything to do with an event which might or might not happen in the next few days.”

“Just a word of advice, though. If you’re going to take a shower today, do it in the next two hours and don’t take one tomorrow morning,” Emily said finally, eyes softening just a little at your too nervous expression.

“You don’t think they’re going to test your wands to see if it was you?” Lindsey asked skeptically.

“Priori incantatem only goes so far, especially if I tutor Y/n on how to glue her pens together,” Emily rolled her eyes, and shrugged. She would argue she was just being a good friend after all.

“With the kind of prep work we’ve done, they’d have to go back, oh, at least three days before they saw any hint that we’ve done a spell related to the event, which again, might or might not start in,” Kelley checked her watch, the face of which glowed a soft yellow, “two hours and five minutes, give or take 20 seconds.”

You wondered if she came from a muggle family too, but you had been too afraid to ask. You had never met a wizard or witch that preferred wristwatches to pocket watches before.

“In that case, we’ll head back to the Gryffindor dorms,” Lindsey said, hastily sweeping her transfiguration notes into the mouth of her bag. “See you at dinner Kelley, Ashlyn.”

“Want to meet in the library to learn the sticking charm Y/n?” Emily asked. Lindsey stopped in the doorway, waiting for you. “Like I said, I practiced the charm literally a hundred times, so I’m really good at it now!”

“Um, I think I’m just going to focus on turning my matchstick into a needle tonight, but maybe some other time?” You mumbled, glancing up at Lindsey. (Were you imagining the slight uptick of her lips?)

“Okay, See you then!” And with that Emily turned back to her compatriots, who all put their heads together and started talking in hushed voices, over a sheet of paper which looked eerily similar to a playbook.

“What do you think they’re planning?” you whispered to Lindsey as the two of you raced towards the stone staircases up to the Gryffindor tower. There was this one staircase that was the fastest way up when it was connected to the right floor, but it only stayed there for a few minutes every half hour. If you missed the window to catch it there would be two extra flights to climb.

“You really don’t want to know. Something always goes wrong when they make plans anyway. It’s why they always get caught,” Lindsey said back equally as quiet, shaking her head. She would skin them alive if you got caught in the crossfire. You were on her off limits list (you always had been) and they had always promised to respect that.

*****

The two of you just made it to the beginning of dinner, after taking turns in the dorm’s bathroom to shower and dry your hair (at least until it wasn’t noticeably dripping). You didn’t know when your next opportunity to take a shower unscathed would be, and you were happy you had made it within Kelley’s two hour window.

However, despite your expectations of screams, or the sound of frogs appearing from the drains, it was a quiet night. As was the morning afterwards. It wasn’t until lunch the next day, that you learned what the prank had been. Exactly as the clock struck noon, all around the great hall people started laughing as the hair of ¾ the school population turned bright colors.

Professor McGonagall frowned at her bright purple hair in the reflection of her teapot. Alex threw a roll at Kelley (with neon yellow hair) who was pointing and laughing at her forest green hair. Tobin and Lauren had fallen off the bench laughing over at the hufflepuff table, pointing towards their respective girlfriends matching pink hair at the ravenclaw and Slytherin tables (Tobin’s hair didn’t seem to have changed color, though Lauren’s was a pale aquamarine sort of blue).

At the Slytherin table Michelle was admiring her jet black hair, though with a wave of her wand it seemed to be speckled with glimmering white and red stars, then she turned to resume her conversation with Joy and some of the other seventh years, who you noticed didn’t seem to have colorful hair.

Looking around the hall, you noticed that a lot of the older students seemed to be lacking the colorful hair sprouted by most of the student body. A few Ravenclaw sixth years had only looked up briefly from studying their notes to see what the commotion was about, before returning to “The Official N.E.W.T.S. Study Guide- test prep for the procrastinator”. Hope, Brandi, Mia, Briana, Christie, Tiffany, Lorrie, Carla. You looked at the sixth and seventh years you knew from watching quidditch games. Regardless of house, almost none of them appeared to be affected by the prank..

“You could have told me, you know?” Alex glared, throwing another roll at her cackling girlfriend.

“But what fun would that be?” Kelley snorted, dodging the roll and quickly snatching up the basket to remove any further ammunition out of Alex’s reach.

“Ashlyn told Ali and Emily told Kristie!” Alex whined, her nose scrunching up just the way Kelley always loved. Alex’s angry face was too cute for her to be like or off limits.

“I value my life too much to mess with her hair care routine,” Ashlyn said, lifting her hands in surrender at Kelley’s death stare. Ali was on her off limits list after all, and that was a line she wasn’t willing to cross.

“And you’ll notice all three of us were also affected by this terrible prank some stranger pulled!” Kelley said, unable to keep a straight face to match her seemingly offended tone.

“Though I think I might use my free period after lunch to practice some quidditch drills,” Ashlyn said, twirling a strand of her bright maroon hair around a finger. “I have a feeling that the color will fade after I dump the icy cooler water over my head.”

“Need someone to send some quaffles your way?” Lindsey asked around a large bite of turkey. She was always down to practice, especially if it meant avoiding the food fight that seemed to be brewing at their table.

“Wait, ice water?” You asked Kelley as Ashlyn and Lindsey began discussing practice plans. Kelley jumped on the opportunity to escape Alex’s ire.

“Oh yeah, we- um, whoever pulled this terrible prank- tied the spell to the hot water pipes. It should be safe to take a hot shower by tonight, but basically anyone who used hot water last night or this morning was affected. Cold water removes it though, which is why we quidditch players will discover the counter first, as we are known for taking ice baths after practice.”

“So I have to freeze my ass off to fix this shit!!” Alex screeched, plucking at the strands of green hair falling into her eyes.

“Come on,” Lindsey said, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards where Brandi was sitting at the front of the Gryffindor table. “Let’s go get the locker room key from Brandi so we can go practice before potions.”

“Yeah, let’s do that” You mumbled, eyes widening at how Alex was now towering over Kelley. You didn’t know the beater could shrink so far into her chair.

Brandi, it turned out, was talking with professor McGonagall about the house cup this year. Though no longer head of Gryffindor house, McGonagall was still invested in the team’s progress.

“Oh, speak of the boggart, here are our two latest recruits,” Brandi said, gesturing at you and Lindsey as you walked toward her. “Professor, Lindsey is our newest chaser and Y/n is one of the best first time seekers Mia has ever seen.”

“Speaking of which,” Lindsey said jumping in, “We were hoping to practice some drills after lunch. Could we borrow the locker room keys?”

You stood just behind her, still a little intimidated by both women.

“It is good to see some responsibility coming from some of our second year Gryffindors,” Professor McGonagall said, smiling at you- when you peeked out from behind the taller chaser- and Lindsey in turn. “I do think some of your classmates, and perhaps even some of our third year students could learn a thing or two from you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you smiled meekly and quickly made your way out of the great hall with Lindsey and the acquired keys. “What do you think she meant by that? Do you think she knows who did it?”

“Oh absolutely,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t take a Seer to predict that they’re going to have detention tomorrow night. Now come on, I want to try that new feint you read about.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #literalhedgehog #lindsey horan imagine #harry potter au #hogwarts au #quidditch au

122 notes · View notes

btsinwonderland · 3 years ago

Text

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 13: Hogsmeade

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

It was a brisk fall morning where the first chill of the coming winter snuck up on you. You wrapped your scarf around your neck tighter and yawned. Another restless night passed with terrifying dreams of Fenris and the bloodbath he left behind him.

You stood in a loose huddle of several students outside the entrance doors to the school. There was the sound of chitchat in the air as you all waited for the teachers. The trees swayed in the wind and a yellowing leaf fell in a spiral and landed on your shoulder. Valkyrie walked over to you with a smile on her face as you brushed off the leaf. It faded slightly upon looking at you.

“Are you okay?” she said, watching you.

You nodded with another yawn. “Bad dreams.”

“Dreams...or something else?”

You might have answered her but were cut off when Pom and Nila came up to the both of you. They had excited smiles on their faces.

“I can’t believe we finally get to go to Hogsmeade!” Pom said with a smile.

Nila agreed exuberantly. “I’ve been itching to go to Honeydukes!”

Valkyrie raised a brow. “Don’t forget we have the ball on Wednesday night, ladies. I, for one, am planning on gettin’ some before everything goes to shit.”

Pom looked at Valkyrie wide eyed while Nila blushed. “Getting what?” Pom said.

You and Valkyrie snort-laughed and Nila started giggling. Pom continued to ask Valkyrie what she was talking about when Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral arrived at the top of the stairs.

Professor Heimdall wore a long tan cloak over his robes and clasped his hands in front of him. “Students, you will be split off into two groups. One with me and one with Professor Fandral. We are incorporating a buddy system, so pick a partner and do not separate from them. This year we were not planning to go to Hogsmeade, but upon reviewing many requests and with careful planning, we believe it is acceptable. What is not acceptable,” he said, passing a look to each student; his eyes lingered on you briefly, “is to leave your buddy, or your group and venture off alone. The grounds are no longer as safe as they were before. Be wise.”

He said no more as Professor Fandral began to split the groups. You, Valkyrie, Nila and Pom excitedly climbed into a carriage, which eventually trailed behind Professor Heimdall’s. His warning stayed with you as you thought about long teeth and hungry eyes. Despite the fear that had permanently settled in the pit of your stomach, you enjoyed feeling the fresh air on your skin as the carriages took off. The wind was cold, but you had not realized how stifling it was in the castle until you had been outside.

You wondered what a carriage ride with Professor Laufeyson would be like. A blush creeped to your cheeks when you thought about detention with him from a couple of nights ago. The word ‘master’ rested on your lips like a secret behind everything else you said out loud. It was just for him. That night, you went back to your room in a heated daze and wondered what you had gotten yourself into. But the more you thought about it, the more your heart raced with want. You enjoyed calling him master, and you liked the way he looked at you when you did.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” Valkyrie said, elbowing you.

You jerked upright and smiled bashfully. “Nothing, I’m just thinking about what to wear.”

Just then, Pom and Nila deep dived into their clothing assessments and what was in season versus not. You absolutely had no idea how they had obtained this information, but appreciated the feedback. After a long lecture about colour coordination and matching shoes and accessories while balancing complementary colour contrast, the carriages finally arrived at Hogsmeade.

The four of you stuck together and plowed your way through Hogsmeade in a thorough fashion. First you visited Honeydukes, which was decorated completely in black for the season; it was as if the whole shop were dipped in an inkwell. Nila bought an entire bag worth of chocolate frogs, Burtie Botts, every flavour beans, blood pops (to which you wrinkled your nose), and cauldron cakes. Valkyrie bought bouncing bubbly which was a soft drink that made her bounce as if she was on the moon. The novelty wore off quickly since Valkyrie quite enjoyed bouncing above you and smacking your head. You were relieved once you entered Gladrags; there was a strict no enchantment policy and Valkyrie had to stand outside until the effects wore off. The three of you snickered and gave her a mock wave through the window. As she bounced in place, she mouthed: “I could murder you in your sleep, you know.”

You laughed and walked into the store, looking at the various fabrics and clothes they had on display. There were enchanted mannequins walking through the store and dancing every now and again for the customers. A small girl tugged at her father’s coat and pointed to a model just a few inches taller than her. Its face was a flat piece of wood and the thing danced around the girl, doing a pirouette with the bright green dress it was wearing along the way. The girl was mesmerised. You smiled and had to give credit to Gladrags; they knew how to market.

Pom and Nila immediately ran to the hats section where there were shelves upon shelves of all sorts of hats. Plumes of feathers stuck to the side of a large orange hat, while another was a green beret seemingly constructed of snakeskin. One hat seemed to have no set shape or colour, but was a fluid moving thing that sparkled when the light hit it. All the hats were magnificent, though you were never much of a hat person. You went to the back, near the sale items, to see if there was anything that you could afford. It had been quite a year gathering enough money to meet your supplies and tuition costs for the year. You hoped that once you aced all your exams, a scholarship or internship could be earned. Though once you saw Professor Laufeyson’s memories, your thoughts about joining the ministry were on pause.

As if the devil himself heard, you heard a familiar voice from your left.

“Good morning, Miss Eves,” Professor Laufeyson said.

You flinched, nearly knocking over a nearby twirling mannequin which actually hissed at you. “Professor! What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed, and he looked as if you had committed a grave mistake. “What was that?”

“I-” You thought about it for a moment. Ah yes….your voice got lower, “Master, what are you doing here?”

He lit up and smiled at you. You wondered if you would ever get used to that.

“I have some business to attend to,” he said.

It was hard not to roll your eyes at how insanely cryptic he was. You were about to question further, but Valkyrie came.

“Professor! Fancy seeing you here,” she said, looking between you and him. You tried to put on your most neutral expression.

“Hogsmeade used to be quite the haunt for me when I was a student here,” Professor Laufeyson said, glancing out the window. “I particularly enjoyed Zonko’s. Well, are you young ladies finding dresses for the ball?”

“Yes!” Pom said from behind a rack of clothes. “And we found the perfect one for you, Freya,” she said, bringing out a frilly dark purple dress that had a mermaid style bottom and an attached cloak that looked more like a cape.

Valkyrie gasped with laughter when you took the dress and promised Pom you would try it on. You thanked her and elbowed Valkyrie. Professor Laufeyson looked as if he was trying to conceal a small smile.

The other girls left in a mad dash when Nila spotted a row of silk scarves that were on sale. Valkyrie went with them, giving you a strange look that showed you would be interrogated very soon.

“You better go try on that aubergine of a dress,” Professor Laufeyson said with a smirk.

You laughed. “I think I’m going to go with my outfit from last year,” you said, putting the purple nightmare back on the rack. “These new fashion trends are getting out of hand, they’re not for me.”

Professor Laufeyson grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. Your heart raced as he held your face in his hand. You prayed no one saw you. “Nothing here could do justice to the body underneath these clothes,” he said, his voice husky. Just as you leaned in towards him, he pulled away. You made the tiniest annoyed sound, and he chuckled.

He said goodbye, and you joined up with the girls to continue on their shopping spree. Nila had gotten a peach coloured dress that had a tight waist and billowing skirt. Pom got a short purple dress that was clean cut and cute. Valkyrie got a crimson dress that had a courageous slit down the side and a neckline that wound around her neck in a halter top. Your stomachs rumbled loudly, so the four of you headed into the Three Broomsticks, a pub down the road. Since Hogsmeade knew well that Hogwarts students were coming in today, they allowed minors into the pub.

You sat at a table and were surprised to see Professor Laufeyson sitting rather reluctantly with Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral. They did not see the four of you slip into the booth just behind them, a wall between you. There was enough chatter in the pub to conceal your voices, though you kept it down just enough to hear what the teachers were saying.

Someone cleared their throat. You recognized Heimdall’s voice; it was rich and deep. “Loki, how is your semester going so far?”

Professor Laufeyson’s voice was effortless, as usual. “Teaching is such a noble profession, I ought to have tried it much earlier in life.”

“You were missing from the staff meeting last Saturday,” Heimdall said. His words asked without stating explicitly, why?

Professor Laufeyson let out a small laugh. “I had to drop everything and come here after Hubert’s passing, so when I can I must tie up some loose ends.”

“What might Loki Laufeyson’s loose ends be, I wonder?” Heimdall said, his voice low.

The server came by and dropped off drinks at their table. He then came to your table and took your orders. The other girls had lost interest at this point and began chatting, but you craned your neck to the edge of the wall to keep listening.

“...yes, I will be in and out after the ball. Business to attend to before we dive head first into midterms,” Professor Laufeyson said.

He was leaving? You wondered. He had told you he would not go after Fenris until the coldest night of winter, and you believed that. Your fingers tapped nervously, thinking about what else he was up to. Aside from seeing him in class and detention, you had no way of knowing where he was or what he was doing. It was not as if he was even remotely communicative about his life. The most you knew about him was from breaking into his memory bank like a thief in the night.

The conversation shifted to Professor Fandral talking about his wife and children and how difficult it was to leave them for semesters at a time. Eventually, their chairs shuffled and the four of you put your heads down and ate your meals. Your shepherd’s pie had gone cold but was still quite delicious.

About an hour later, you were back in the school, heading to your common room, evading Valkyrie so she would not ask you about Professor Laufeyson. You were just not ready to have any sort of proper conversation about it yet. You had no idea what was happening, and a part of you felt immensely guilty about the whole thing. At least if it was your personal secret, you could chalk it up to a delusion or dream and still function properly. But once you verbalized it, it was real. Far too real for anything you wanted to deal with now.

In the hall, you spotted a ghostly figure running towards you. Well, half of a ghostly figure. The legs and torso of Crazy Collin ran past you in a gust of cool air. A few minutes later, you saw the upper part floating by.

“‘Ave you seen me legs?” he said. His translucent face was even younger than you.

You pointed behind you. “They went that way.” You smiled as he waved at you and floated onwards in search of his legs. He was always found roaming the halls searching for the bottom half of his body, and it was a fun game that occupied most first years, helping Crazy Collin find his legs.

Suddenly, you thought about Pom’s brother Ken, who now had a missing arm, and your smile disappeared. Most of the time you had laughed at the ghosts of Hogwarts, but you realized they were all people once who had died an awful death. The thought both sobered and saddened you.

***

The next day you were seated in potions class with Pom next to you, taking notes on the use of a bezoar. Professor Laufeyson had put on a slideshow and you tried not to yawn, though his voice was like melted honey.

Something hit the side of your head and fell at your feet. You glanced around before picking it up.

“What is it?” Pom whispered.

It was a crumpled piece of paper and upon unrolling it, you saw an enchanted drawing of two stick figures dancing. One of them had two circles for its breasts and an arrow pointing to the figure that said “You” and the other stick figure had an arrow that said “Me”. You looked up and saw Nathan Gill, the sixth year Quidditch announcer, smiling at you. He pointed to you, then he mimed a little slow dance, and then pointed to himself, all the while mouthing the words, “Do you want to go to the ball with me?”

The paper was snatched from your hand before you could react and you were horrified to see Professor Laufeyson standing over you with a grim expression. “Passing notes in class?” He said with a touch of venom. After reading the note aloud in class for everyone to laugh at, he took five points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

“Harsh,” Pom said, and you did not reply.

At the end of class, you escaped out the door before meeting Professor Laufeyson’s eye, since you were far too embarrassed. Then Nathan found you.

“So, Eves, you want to go with me?” He said, brandishing a daring smile.

He was a year younger than you, though he was taller and his face was not all boyish. His brown eyes held an air of confidence and his dark brown skin glowed in the torchlights. He leaned against the wall next to you, casual yet focused on your face in a way that made you blush. You wished you could seriously consider him. Perhaps if he had come to you only a month earlier, you would not be in this mess at all. A boy like him was normal. A boy like him was far better suited for you. But alas, even though you thought he was invariably handsome and were somewhat attracted to his presence, your heart was doomed to stay in one place.

You smiled at him and were about to speak when Pom piped up out of nowhere, “yes she’s gonna go with you!”

Nathan smiled so brightly that you felt the words escape you. He leaned in and tucked a hair behind your ear. “See you then,” he said in a low voice and walked off with his friends.

Just then, Professor Laufeyson passed by with an icy expression. He glanced at you and Pom as if you were stones on the wall and continued on his way, not giving you another look. Your heart sank while Pom excitedly grabbed your arm. “Oh my god, Gill is so cute! Sorry I stepped in, but I had to! I thought you were going to throw up or say no, so I did what any good friend ought to do.” She smiled at you and you nodded hollowly, wondering what Professor Laufeyson had thought.

You were on your way to the Great Hall for lunch as you puzzled about Nathan. Pom had gone to the infirmary to check on her brother. The staircase you were climbing up moved and pulled you away from your path and down an empty corridor that would add another ten minutes to your walk. A sigh escaped your lips as you continued to wonder. Why would he ask you? You barely talked to him. Once you had given him ink when he ran out, and so perhaps he was just being nice -

A hand grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you into a room you had not realized was there. The door shut and vanished, leaving only stone, and you were slammed against the wall with a hard body against yours. The familiar scent of flora and musk hit your senses, and you gazed into a pair of cold blue eyes. His hand clasped around your throat as he leaned in and spoke in your ear.

“Did you think you could get away with being such a tease?” Professor Laufeyson said, his voice was a growl.

You dropped your books and panted. “W-what do you mean sir - er, I mean - Master?”

“That boy was all over you like a dog. Did you hope to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said. Fear bubbled in your stomach at his aggression, but more than that was another feeling...One that was going to get you into deep trouble. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt desire bloom within you. The feeling of his hand on your throat only made it worse - or better - and you felt your core tighten.

He laughed darkly and for a moment; you wondered if it had all been a joke. Then his eyes grew fierce, and he stopped smiling. “It worked.”

You gazed up at him and licked your lips reflexively. His pupils dilated, and he lost his composure. His lips collided with yours and you felt the heat of his breath against you. They were the softest lips you had ever felt, but they crashed onto yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. He pushed you into the wall to deepen the kiss and you wound your hands around him, one hand reaching up to the back of his head.

He moved his free hand down and cupped your bottom. You raised your right leg around his waist, which he held in place. Your tongues clashed, and you licked his lips as if you were back in a dream. He lifted your other leg, so you were now pinned against the wall, straddling him. He pushed into you and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. There were no thoughts, only the feeling of his fingers digging into your body as his mouth invaded yours. When you felt his erection against your core, a cry escaped your lips. He rubbed it against you once more and you bit his lip, hard.

He chuckled and gently pulled away from you, easing you down. You gazed at each other as if your eyes were magnetically locked. Both of you panted and wiped the corners of your mouth. “You’ve grown quite...assertive, Miss Eves,” he said in a rough voice. He tried to put on a candid act, but you saw through it. He was trying to suppress his desire.

You stepped towards him and put a hand on his chest. “I don’t want to go to the ball with anybody else,” you said.

His face froze, not knowing what to show you. So he chuckled and spun you around, putting a hand on your collarbone. His thumb grazed your throat, and you wondered if flames would erupt across your skin. “You will go to the ball with this boy,” he said. And he licked your ear and bit the lobe. You closed your eyes and nearly moaned. “You will dance with him, have a drink, and do what young women do at balls,” he said as he moved his other hand to your waist, squeezing it. “And at the end of the night, you will come to my room, and I will punish you for all of it. Do we have an understanding?”

Breathlessly, you said, “yes Master.”

He let go of you and bowed slightly, as if you were a proper lady and not the girl he just ravished against the wall. “Good girl,” he said with a wink.

You were thrown so back and forth with his words that your lust had slowly transformed into a deep hunger...and your stomach growled unceremoniously, loudly. He chuckled at the sound as you crossed your arms around yourself, trying to block out the noise.

“Perhaps we should return to the Great Hall and get you well fed. You need to keep up your energy for the ball,” he said.

You looked around at your surroundings. It was an empty stone room with no doors and a large chandelier in the ceiling. “Where are we?”

He waved his hand at the wall closest to you and a wooden door appeared. “This is the room of requirement,” he said. “It is a room that only appears when you are in great need of it, and it also becomes the room that you need.”

You raised your brows as you passed through the door with him into the empty hall. The door disappeared as if the room was not there. You touched the stone and knocked on it, but it was just a continuous wall. “Just when I thought this place had finished amazing me,” you said.

“Hogwarts will never cease to amaze, love,” Professor Laufeyson said. He stopped when you got to the stairs. “Now, I bid you farewell until the ball. Be sure to get into heaps of trouble,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, I will,” you said with a wide smile. The butterflies flowed freely through your body and you felt electrified. Suddenly, the ball had gotten much more exciting and you could not wait for Wednesday night.

You ran down the corridor, back to the main level, where several students ran past you. The smell of food wafted through the halls and your stomach grumbled more, so you picked up the pace. Another scent caught your nose, and you wondered what it was, since it definitely was not food. As you walked, you realized that the floor was covered in water. Puzzled, you entered the main corridor which led to the Great Hall and found a large crowd of students standing there.

You spotted Valkyrie ahead of you, so you pushed your way through several students, mumbling an apology, and tapped her shoulder. She looked at you grimly and gestured to the wall with her eyes. When your gaze followed, you stepped back with a hand to your chest. There was a message on the wall, written in blood. The nauseating scent of iron was thick in the air. The message wrote:

The beast has awakened...Enemies of the heir, beware...

27 notes · View notes

thelastspeecher · 4 years ago

Text

Stan Falls in Love With a Frog

We started talking about a new Scenario in the Discord, and it’s been making me very happy, especially since the Scenario takes place in a Mystery Trio-style AU, and I’m a big fan of the Mystery Trio AU. So, I whipped this up earlier. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Stan sat on the edge of the dock, looking out over the water of Lake Gravity Falls. In the fading light, mist curled above the lake surface. He sighed and reeled his fishing line back in.

Dammit. I shoulda got here earlier if I wanted to catch anything. Stan wasn’t opposed to night fishing in general, but he was opposed to it in Gravity Falls. He had seen in person some of the weird things that came out when it got dark. Something surfaced in the lake, breaking the thin layer of fog. Speaking of… Stan idly watched it swim. Wonder what kinda spookum this one is. The creature pulled itself out of the lake and onto a large rock. Stan’s jaw dropped. That’s a chick!

It was rapidly getting darker, so he couldn’t make out many fine details. But the creature looked eerily like a human woman. With the exception of elongated, webbed feet and ears, what looked like a pair of antennae, and mottled skin. She pushed back her short hair with hands that also seemed to be webbed.

What the hell is that? Stan leaned, squinting, trying to get a better look. The movement knocked his tacklebox into the lake.

“Shit!” he swore. The woman looked over. Her eyes, glowing a soft blue, widened. She dove back into the lake. Stan sighed. “Great.” He got to his feet and trudged back to the Stanleymobile. Before he got in, he glanced back at the lake. The water was as smooth as glass.

It was like the woman had never been there.

-----

Stan returned to Lake Gravity Falls the next morning at the break of dawn. Normally, he wouldn’t wake up so early just to go fishing, but Ford and Fiddlenerd had a full day of traipsing around in the forest planned. If he wanted to actually have enough time to catch something, he needed to fish before, not after.

If Fiddlenerd’s weird little sister wasn’t visiting, this wouldn’t be a problem. Stan sat down at the edge of the dock and opened the tacklebox he’d “borrowed” from Fiddlenerd. But Fiddlenerd wants someone with actual muscles to be there to protect her from whatever’s in the woods today. There was a loud thunk to his left. Stan looked over. He gaped. The tacklebox he’d dropped in the lake yesterday sat next to him.

“What the hell?” Stan opened the tacklebox to inspect its contents. It was soaked through, which made sense, given it had been at the bottom of the lake the night before. But other than his fresh bait, nothing was missing. “How did-” There was a soft splash. Stan looked up. A creature was in front of him.

It’s that one lady from yesterday. She was mostly submerged, with only her eyes and the crown of her head above the water. Her hair was a black that, like her light green skin, blended in with the lake. She looks sorta like a frog.

“You brought me my tacklebox,” Stan said. The frog woman nodded. “Why?” She hesitated, then sunk underwater. Stan waited for a few minutes to see if she would come back up. When she didn’t return, he sighed and began to set things up to fish.

The missing bait makes sense now. Of course a frog would eat all my worms.

-----

“It’s about time!”

“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you too,” Stan groused, pushing past Ford and into the house. He’d spent more time than he meant to fishing. Naturally, the moment he came back home, Ford got on his case.

“We were supposed to leave an hour ago! Today’s plans are completely ruined!” Ford said. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Walking around in the woods isn’t something that takes all day, Poindexter.”

“The specific location Fiddleford and I were going to take his sister to is quite some distance away.”

“It’s fine, Stanford,” said the aforementioned sister of Fiddlenerd. She was laying on the living room couch, reading a guidebook on amphibians of the Pacific Northwest. “I was hopin’ to check out some of the cute places in town, anyways.” She smiled at Ford. “The forest can wait fer tomorrow.”

“I- but-” Ford started.

“Before you short-circuit, Sixer, I’ve got a question,” Stan interrupted. Ford glared at him. “So, I saw this frog-lady at the lake-”

“Frog-lady?” Ford scoffed. Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw Fiddlenerd’s sister still. “Are you mocking me?”

“What? No! I thought you liked weird shit. I mean, you came up here to study it and dragged me along to be your muscle.”

“I like magical creatures, Stanley,” Ford said, crossing his arms. “Not regular humans who have features you might think resemble an amphibian.”

“She wasn’t a regular human!”

“There are no humanoid amphibious creatures around here,” Ford said firmly. “There is, however, a woman in town who was born with webbing between her fingers and couldn’t afford the surgery to get it removed. I think it’s rather cruel of you to make fun of her.”

“No, I wasn’t-” Stan sighed. “Whatever.”

“Go upstairs and change,” Ford instructed. “You smell of fish.”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Doesn’t Shower For a Week,” Stan muttered. Fiddlenerd’s sister snickered softly. He began to walk upstairs. “At least someone around here’s got a sense of humor.”

-----

Though he had returned to the lake at dusk that day, Stan hadn’t seen the frog-lady. He came back the next morning at dawn, hoping to spot her again. As he sat at the end of the dock, he found himself dozing off, lulled into sleep by the early hour and peaceful surroundings. He was jolted back to wakefulness by a splash nearby.

“You came back,” a voice said. Stan looked up. It was the frog-lady. Her head was now fully emerged from the water. She looked at him with intelligent blue eyes. Though her face was one shade of pale green, the rest of her head was mottled with darker greens. Her nose was thin and flat, evidently nonhuman.

“Well, yeah,” Stan said with a shrug. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve gotta thank you for giving me back my stuff.”

“It’s yours. Why would I keep it?” the frog-lady asked. Her voice was lilting and musical, sounding almost like raindrops hitting leaves. And yet, there was something about it that seemed familiar. Like he’d heard her talk before.

“I dunno. ‘Cause you could?”

“Heh.” The frog-lady smiled. “I don’t really have a need for human things.”

“What are you?” Stan blurted out. The frog-lady froze. “Wait, shit, was that racist of me or something?” The frog-lady nodded silently. “I take it back.” He cleared his throat. “My name’s Stan. What’s yours?”

I don’t wanna scare her off. She might be a frog, but she’s pretty cute.

“…Rana,” the frog-lady said after a moment.

“That’s pretty.”

“Thanks.” Rana chewed on her lip for a moment. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what your brother does.” Rana’s eyes bored into Stan. “I know he likes to study critters like me, with or without their consent. Are you collecting data for him?”

“Please.” Stan waved a hand airily. “Even if he and Fiddlenerd were both in full-body casts, he wouldn’t want me to collect data for him.” Rana managed a small smile. “He’d probably hire some weirdo from town to do it instead.” Rana snickered softly. Like her voice, it sounded familiar. A car engine roared to life, the sound echoing across the lake. Stan looked over. Someone had pulled into the parking lot. He looked back at Rana.

She was gone, only a few ripples remaining on the surface where she’d been.

-----

Stan paced in the living room. It had been a week since he learned Rana’s name, and many more meetings with her at dawn. And to his shock, he was beginning to fall for her.

Sure, she’s not human. Sure, she hasn’t come out of the water all the way yet. But she’s nice and funny and teases me when I say something racist against frogs. Stan smiled fondly, remembering how he had brought her worms yesterday, only for her to throw them at him. I like a lady who doesn’t take any shit. He frowned. She doesn’t like worms…what does she like? I’ve gotta impress her if I’m gonna make a move on her. She gets spooked so easily.

“Stanley,” Fiddlenerd said wearily. Stan stopped. He looked over at the card table in the corner, where Fiddlenerd was working on some sort of machine. “Yer goin’ to wear a hole in the wood if ya don’t stop pacin’!”

“Nah, let him keep goin’,” Fiddlenerd’s sister said. Once again, she was on the couch reading a book about amphibians. “Maybe he’ll pick up the pace and start a fire.” She smirked at Stan, who merely rolled his eyes in response.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked. Fiddlenerd’s sister shrugged.

“I like it here. I’ll stay until Fidds kicks me out.”

“So, you’re never gonna leave,” Stan said flatly. Fiddlenerd’s sister snorted in amusement. Stan sighed. He looked back at Fiddlenerd. “Do you know anything about frogs?” Bringing up frogs to Ford only resulted in him scolding Stan, no matter how Stan phrased his questions. Fiddlenerd shook his head.

“No. But Angie does.”

“Who’s Angie?”

“Wh-” Fiddlenerd set down his wrench, staring at Stan. “My sister!” Stan looked at Fiddlenerd’s sister, apparently named Angie. She waved at him cheerfully. “She’s been here fer over a week and ya haven’t even learned her name yet?”

“It didn’t come up,” Stan said with a shrug. Ignoring Fiddlenerd’s sputtering, he sat down next to Angie. “So. Your name is Angie.”

“Yes. It is.”

“It’s a lot more normal than Fiddlenerd’s name,” Stan remarked. Fiddlenerd let out a squawk of protest. Angie sighed.

“Spit it out. What do ya want?”

“Do you know about frogs?”

“I certainly hope I do, since my doctorate is in herpetology,” Angie said tartly. Stan frowned at her. “The study of reptiles and amphibians.”

“Ah. Okay.” Stan scooted a bit closer. His nose picked up on a faint pondwater smell coming from Angie. She eyed him warily. “What do frogs like?”

“What do-” Angie stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me. What do frogs like?”

“I mean, it depends on the frog.” Angie rubbed the back of her neck. “What do ya need to know this for?”

“There’s this frog-lady that I met-”

“Oh, pish posh,” Angie scoffed. “I’ve heard ‘bout yer frog-lady from Stanford. He says that she don’t exist.”

“And you’re just gonna believe him?”

“I ain’t an expert in the wildlife ‘round here. Stanford is. I don’t really have a choice but to take him at his word.”

“Where’s that famous herpetology skepticism?” Stan asked. Angie rolled her eyes and got up, setting her book on the nearby end table.

“I’m goin’ fer a walk,” she said. “If I see any frog-ladies, I’ll let ya know.”

Great. She was my best shot at advice for Rana. I mean, she knows frogs and she’s a woman! Stan’s eyes landed on Angie’s book. Hmm… He picked it up. There was a bookmark. He thumbed to the bookmarked page. It was the beginning of a chapter on a specific genus called Rana. Huh.

“That’s weird,” Stan muttered out loud.

“What?” Fiddlenerd asked.

“None of your business,” Stan shot at him. Fiddlenerd rolled his eyes and went back to working on his machine.

My frog-lady has the same name as a kind of frog. Makes sense. Stan looked over at Angie, who was putting her shoes on by the front door. But why was Angie looking up that kind of frog?

-----

Rana giggled at Stan’s latest terrible joke. Stan beamed.

“Glad you’ve got a sense of humor,” he said. Rana smiled. Car tires crunched on gravel. Stan didn’t have to look to know that it was the arrival of the early fishermen. After two weeks talking to Rana, he’d developed a routine. He would sit at the edge of the dock and wait for her to emerge, then the two would chat until the first fishermen showed up. Stan sighed. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked Rana. Rana nodded. She dipped underwater.

Stan got up and made his way down the dock, ignoring the fishermen who clearly thought he was insane to be at the lake so early for no apparent reason. He walked over to where he normally parked the Stanleymobile, only to remember he’d parked by the edge of the forest that day.

“Great decision-making, past Stan,” he mumbled idly. “Parking where the gnomes could bite through your brake lines again.” He went to the Stanleymobile. Before he opened the door, however, he heard a large splash and leaves rustling nearby. A voice swore softly.

That sounded like Rana. Stan tucked his car keys back into his pocket and went into the woods, following the sound of Rana’s voice. He arrived at a small clearing at the edge of the lake. Rana had pulled herself onto shore. Stan stared at her. It was the first time he was seeing below her neck up close; he’d only seen her full body once before, back when he knocked his tacklebox into the lake. Her front was the same pale green as her face, with darker greens mottling around her sides and back. The texture of her skin looked soft and slimy. Despite her hourglass figure, she was fairly flat-chested.

I mean. She is a frog. Why would she have boobs? Rana pulled herself up into a seated position, leaning against a tree trunk. Stan stared at her long, flipper-like feet. No wonder she swims so fast. Suddenly, her feet began to shrink. Stan’s eyes widened, watching Rana’s flippers change to pale, human feet. His eyes widened further as he realized that her feet weren’t the only thing changing. Before his eyes, Rana was transforming from a frog-lady into a naked human woman. One that Stan recognized.

Rana got up and grabbed a pile of clothing from behind the tree, mumbling to herself. A twig snapped under Stan’s foot. Rana’s head shot up. She stared at Stan in horror.

“Stan?!” she squeaked. Stan swallowed.

Damn, her nose gets flat when she’s a frog.

“Hey, Angie.”

#I based Stan's frog-lady off of the nixies from the Spiderwick Chronicles #so if you want a frame of reference I would google image search that. they are v cool looking #anyways this Scenario is fun and I love it v v v much #Mystery Trio AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Angie McGucket #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #Nixie AU

42 notes · View notes

batarella · 4 years ago

Text

The Bullet: A Sequel to The Commander - Part 1 (Jason Todd x Reader)

The wait is finally over!!!! The Commander is back and here to snatch our wigs!! I was really really REALLY nervous with this one since the Commander was such a success (to me, anyway. It was more than I could ever ask for) But here you go!!!

Set two years after the events of Arkham Knight.

WORDS: 5115 WARNINGS: Injuries, Sexual Themes, Implied Death, Actual Death, Firearms, aaaaaaaangst

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

------

“Excuse me, I’m here to see Jason Todd.”

“Name?”

“Y/FN Y/LN. I’m his emergency contact.”

The nurse looked through her computer. “Room 173. Across that hall to the left.”

“Thank you.”

White walls.

In the distance, near and far, beeping noises at a steady pace.

And the cold, alcohol infused aroma of a chill.

She never liked hospitals.

She tried to make her body as small as she could. God knows what she might contract just by being here. Only looking at the small glass window by the doors, she could already see people so at the edge of eventually falling into death’s pit. That was what this place felt like. Death.

Room 173. His name was on a little sign up front. Y/N held the door handle, closed her eyes. She didn’t know what for. Was she going to have to think this through? Turn back? Leave him when he obviously didn’t have anyone else to go to?

This wasn’t going to go any better than she’d hoped. If anything, it would just give her more reasons to be reeled back in.

She pushed on the door and let an even colder rush of air flow through her.

Jason was on the bed, eyes fluttering open from the light comings of a nap. He didn’t look too bad. Just that there was a bullet hole where his stomach was and bruises on his arms and legs. His face looked fine, not too many new scratches other than the ones that were already there the last time she saw him. He did, however, look tired as fuck. He could barely keep his eyes open.

But when he looked at her, met her eyes, he smiled even when it looked like it hurt. Y/N closed the door behind her and slowly walked closer to the bed.

“Hi,” she licked her lips.

Jason was taking her in, eyes shining. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Y/N faintly shook her head and set her hair behind her ear. She was about a yard away from him. Something was pulling her away from standing too close. Probably herself.

“You came…” he said, voice scratchy and course.

But she didn’t exactly know what to say. Not when she didn’t want to openly admit to something he probably already knew, and would only take things to an unnecessary level of hurt. Y/N crossed her arms and stared at her feet. “They called me.”

“Did they?

“You didn’t change your emergency contact.”

Jason lost his smile, then propped himself up to lean against the headboard. “Oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

Jason snorted. “I do?”

“You didn’t do that on purpose did you?”

“Get shot? Probably not.”

“Jason…”

“Fine. I didn’t change the contact. Forgive me.”

This asshole.

“I’m glad you’re here. I miss you.”

No. Not that conversation. She had to steer it away. Y/N cleared her stuffy throat and pointed at the bullet hole. Or holes. She saw another one just then.

“Mind telling me what happened?”

Jason swallowed, lightly shifted in the bed to allow you to see more of his wounds. Three bullet holes right on his abs. They’ve been stitched up, and he looked completely fine. It didn’t even look like it hurt him.

Though just the sight of it made her skin crawl.

“I thought you hated hospitals.”

“This wasn’t from patrol. Someone was getting raped in an alley and I stepped in.”

“Without your visor on?”

“No. The guy had a gun and I managed to put him down before the woman called the ambulance on me. I didn’t have time to run.”

Jason leaned forward to stretch back his neck. “I’m getting out today.”

“Jason, just stay.”

“No.”

“You could have died.”

“I’m fine. I’ve taken a lot worse.”

Y/N froze, mouth parted, and her ghostly eyes looked on before she forced them shut.

“No, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry,” Jason said.

He started to swing his legs over the edge of the bed so he could reach for her arm, but she backed away.

Jason didn’t want to pry when he knew It wouldn’t go as he wanted. Hands on his sides, he looked to his feet just as she was.

“How are you?” she asked, without so much as a glance to his eyes. He kept sitting on the bed and scratched his scalp.

“Okay. I guess. Sometimes. You?”

She shrugged. “I’m alright.”

“Good,” he nodded. “You should sit down. I’ll get you a chair.”

Jason started to stand up from the bed, but she stopped him. “Just stay there. I’m fine.”

“It’s right over there-“

“Just lay down.”

She didn’t want to sit. She didn’t even want to stay long. Like a tide had brought her here only as needed, but now as she saw the sun hadn’t even set, that he wasn’t remotely as in need of her presence as he claims he was, Jason hurtfully looked into her eyes, backed off, then settled back onto the bed.

Y/N continued to stand on her feet, hugging herself in an attempt to conceal the ache in her chest, looking around and reveling in the silence.

“I should go…”

“What?”

“I came ‘cuz I thought you weren’t okay. But you're fine. You don’t need me here-“

“Y/N…”

“Please.”

He tried reaching for her hand again, but she pushed it away. “No…”

Y/N didn’t hear Jason stand up when her feet slowly took her to the door. She wanted to stay. For her. But for him? Not as much.

But she heard his faint voice. Hurt. Broken. Just as it had been since they first met.

“Please stay…” he said. And if she weren’t wrong she might have noticed that crack in his voice that came up when he was about to cry.

Her hand on the doorknob, Y/N didn’t know whether to scream at him or herself, or just at nothing until that stinging in her neck would fade away. Or get worse. Either way, she just wanted to scream. She wasn’t supposed to come, but when the hospital called they made it sound like Jason was about to die. “Y/N… Please… Don’t leave…”

She closed her eyes.

In a way, he did need her.

She took her hand away from the door.

With the pain ever burning, Y/N took slow, uneasy steps to the chair, grabbing the back of it so she could haul it to Jason’s side. When she caught his eye, there was that widening, a shine at moments when he saw smidges of hope. She didn’t want him to hope.

But he needed her.

Though, without a doubt, she needed him, too.

“Okay...”

Jason nodded. Too vigorously though he obviously wanted more. She stood in front of him.

Y/N reached over to hold his hand, and immediately he took it between his fingers. “I’m here…” she said to him. Jason forced himself to bite back a smile. Or a tear. Y/N stood up to prop his pillow to the headboard. “Lay down.”

He did as she told him, slowly moving past the bruises to sit up on his back. She continued to make sure he was comfortable, brushing her hand against his face. He took it and placed a light kiss on her palm. Without flinching away, she smiled.

“Thank you…” he said to her.

“You need water?”

“No. I’m good.”

Y/N took her seat, inched closer to him so she’d be able to place her arms onto the bed, then tried to fall asleep with him despite the discomforts.

As she was just about to drift off, she felt a hand entangle itself onto her hair.

It was just at the ends at first, the ones splayed out onto the mattress, touching and feeling it against his fingers, until eventually it had trailed further up to her head, her scalp, soothing her the way he knew she liked.

Y/N didn’t move, as much as everything told her to.

She shouldn’t. for her sake. For his sake. But god, she missed being touched so delicately. She just closed her eyes, pretended to sleep. So long as he thought she didn’t notice, it should be okay.

Then a nurse came in with a clipboard. She shot up and Jason immediately withdrew his hand away.

“Mr. Todd?”

“Finally,” he flinched as he sat up. Y/N stood by his side.

“You his girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She and Jason eyed each other down, and the nurse stopped flipping the pages midway to look at both of their faces frozen awkwardly.

“Ooookay,” she continued chewing on her gum. “Mr. Todd seems to be doing pretty well.”

“Can I go home now?” Jason said, and Y/N nudged his good shoulder with her wrist.

“Should be good by tomorrow evening. Your body’s holding up a lot better than we expected. You know, for someone who got shot three times. You can stay if you want.”

She was referring to Y/N. Y/N started to speak against it, tell her that if she wasn’t really needed, she should be out of the way, but when Jason gave her that worried look in his bright blue eyes, she didn’t.

“Okay,” she said.

When the nurse left the room, Y/N fixed his pillow again and reclined his bed.

“Go to sleep, Jay.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You,” she said. “Look like shit. Go to sleep.”

Jason couldn’t help but smirk. He let her fix the bed, then he laid on top of the pillow hoping to reach for her hand, but Y/N inched too far for his reach. They fell asleep after a few hours. And in the morning, she helped Jason with his breakfast, her knowing he would have handled it all on his own but let herself revel in the time when she had it.

He got out of the hospital before it got too dark. Y/N drove, all the way over to their old apartment. Jason had a slight limp up the steps, but he didn’t need much of her help to move.

It was dark inside. Neither of them turned the lights on when she helped settle his things on the couch and Jason went to the kitchen. The air was stale and musky. Clean. Everything around her was clean. The sheets were neatly folded on the bed she could see form the bedroom door slightly open. The bathroom looked spotless. The kitchen, just as always. She really wasn’t needed here.

“Can I make you anything?”

“No.” She stood by the door. “Thank you.”

“You didn’t eat today.”

“I’m fine. I’ll eat at my place.”

Jason placed down the cups, hands on the counter. “You can stay a bit longer…”

There was a frog in her throat. She could feel it, croaking and pushing out the walls of her neck just to stop her from saying anything at all. Anything that made sense, really.

“Jay, I can't stay-“

“Why not?”

“Because-“ she raised her hands up, but they fell to her thighs as she walked over to lean against the kitchen counter. “You’re obviously well enough to lift a tank. You don’t need me here.”

“Who said I didn’t need you?”

“You don’t need my help.”

“It’s not your help I needed. It’s you.”

“Fucking hell,” she swallowed. “Is that why you called me?”

The frog was still there. Shit.

He picked up the mugs and turned on the coffee machine. Y/N crossed her arms, looked the other way, and when the machine stopped, Jason handed her a mug.

“Just take it.”

Without glancing into his eyes, Y/N took it with both hands and basked in the toasty aroma. Just to calm her down. Jason leaned against the island counter and watched her sip at her drink.

“You dating anybody?” he asked.

She wanted to throw the mug at his face. Scoffing, she said, “What does it matter?”

“It’s just a question.”

“You think I threw what we had because I was interested in dating other people?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She set the mug aside. Both of them had their hands placed on the counter, staring into nothing like it was infinitely better than catching each other’s eyes.

“I’m not.”

Jason lightly nodded his head. “Okay.”

“You?”

“Not right now. No.”

She crossed her arms, thinking if it would be the right time to just barge out and end this painful fiasco. Y/N had barely finished her drink. Sliding off the counter, she cleared her throat.

“It’s late. I’m leaving.”

“Y/N…”

“Call me if there’s an emergency.”

Y/N hastily went for the door, but Jason held it back with his palm.

He stood over her, closer, close enough to make her feel his breath. Y/N looked anywhere but his eyes, but he’d pushed her against the door, her back flat against the wood, and as she looked up she saw his eyes despite the darkness.

“Stay. Please,” he breathed. And his breath, so hot and everything she’s kept to remember, Y/N gulped and opted to just close her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Jason, stop.”

“I can't take this anymore-“

“I had to leave you…”

“It’s been six months, Y/N, how long do I have to go without you?”

She felt his nose touch the bridge between her eyes. His eyes were as shut close as hers. “Jason, don’t make this any harder.”

“You love me. I know you still do.”

“Of course, I do,” she breathed. “I love you more than anything…”

“Then stay. Please.”

She opened her eyes.

Beautiful. Everything about him. The fading ‘J’ on his cheek, his lips, his eyelids soft and fluttering at every miniscule movement.

She missed him. All of him. His voice. His body. Him.

Y/N leaned up to his lips, just as he was about to kiss her himself. He was softer than she would have thought, and she breathed in to make it deeper, breathier, heavier. Just a night. It wouldn’t hurt.

Well, it would. But she’d be hurting anyway.

She held his face and started kissing his cheek, his jaw, then her teeth sank in to his neck. Jason breathed in when he felt her hands hover over his chest, going further down to his liking.

She moaned as she held his waist and pushed him against the counter. Jason her face so close he could only smell the fading scent of her neck, her lips, the light traces of smoke so often on her clothes after all the guns she’s had to fire.

This had happened a two months ago, when they crossed paths and spent a long night of hot passion. And the next day, she’d be gone. Just as she would be again by tonight.

Jason, as much as he wanted her. As much as he wanted to do everything to her to convince her body to want to stay with him, to enjoy her while she was here…

She wasn’t going to give him what he actually wanted.

“Take care of me tonight…” she said to his ear, biting down as her hand felt over the bulge in his pants. Fuck.

He wanted to do so much to her. Everything. Fuck, the things he’d do. Months without her, all those trailing thoughts when he missed her body as much as he missed her soul. This. This had always been the best way to express their love when neither of them were too comfortable to be all mushy and sensitive. Sex. Only with her. Just with her.

And she was there, hand on his member begging for him to throw everything away and have her just for the night.

Just for the night…

“Y/N…”

And it took all his strength to hold her wrist and pry it away from his pants. She stopped, stared at him confused.

“Jason…”

“I don’t want you like this,” he held both her hands, feeling her want to step away. “Not just for a night.”

“Then what is it?”

“I want you. Here. Every day…”

“Jay…”

“Why can't you look at me…”

And she did, right into his eyes. It hurt all the more to do this to him as she looked straight at his face.

“I can't… Please.”

“When are you going to realize that what happened wasn’t your fault-“

“IT WAS!”

Silence. Jason bit his lip, but never once took his eyes off her. Y/N, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to jump off the window.

“I can't live with what I did…”

“And I can't live without you, Y/N…”

“Jason,” she gulped. “You didn’t deserve what I did to you…”

“It’s been done. What do you want us to do about it?”

“I thought I needed time but I can't even look at you without seeing-“ she covered her trembling mouth just as she felt the beginnings of a stutter. Jason breathed out, leaning towards the kitchen counter.

“I can't,” she said. “I’m sorry…”

“Y/N…”

She left. She didn’t give him a chance to say goodbye. The door shut behind her and it was like the first time she’d left all over again.

Jason felt the bullet wounds ache. Everywhere, it ached. His hands, his chest, his head. He didn’t know what he did wrong, if he even did do anything wrong. What had he done to make her stay away from him and not falter? What had he done to make her not love him enough to want to stay?

He didn’t want to stop trying to get her back.

One of these days, if she stays true to her word and never does come back, he’ll have to take the littlest steps in letting go.

Even when neither of them did anything wrong. Even when it wasn’t his fault as much as it wasn’t hers.

The kitchen counter almost broke in his grip. Because he knew, if he was in her place, if he’d done what she did to him, he would’ve done the same. He would have left her for good, never to return. He would have begged her to let him go. Now, on the other side, being the receiving end of being left behind, it hurt even more. He had to let go.

Let go.

Jason walked over to his closet, pulled out a box he’d stuffed into the back where it wasn’t so easily found. Keeping it had always been for no other reason than to hurt himself with the constant reminder of how he’d lost everything that day. Everything he’s sought to love and care about. When after just two years, he’d grown from a man about to take over an entire city to this.

His hands shaking, he pulled out from the box a small, unused pair of light blue sneakers, fit for the size of the tiniest baby. A month or two months old. His finger could fit into the soles, and he let his thumb brush over the fabric longingly.

And despite the stinging pain, Jason walked over to the bathroom and threw the shoes into a trashcan.

He shouldn’t have held onto it for so long.

As the lid of the trashcan closed, he fell to the floor and broke down.

-----

Nothing but her wrist gun.

Without her mask, Deadshot sat at the top of one of the apartment buildings in Otisburg. Right by the vents, she placed her legs over the ledge and adjusted her optics.

She pulled out her phone and waited for the other end of the line to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, I’d like to speak to your boss,” she said as she heard a light female voice. Probably his secretary.

“Mr. Falcone isn’t available.”

“Tell him it’s the exterminator for his little rat problem.”

She heard shuffling, voices, an old man’s booming voice screaming before it eventually mellowed down. Eventually the phone was given to him and his loud, overbearing voice hurt her eardrums.

“What?”

“I’m in position. The target’s coming a little late.”

“I told you not to call until you’ve done your job.”

Deadshot twirled her mask over her finger. “You know how my uncle worked, Carmine. You don’t see results ‘till we see the numbers in our accounts.”

“Don’t piss me off. You’re here on Floyd’s debt.”

“Sal Maroni’s about to close in on a deal of a lifetime and in just-“ she looked at her watch. “Five minutes from now, you’ll be out of business.”

“What could you possibly fucking want from me?”

“A million dollars.”

Chuckling. “I can kill you. Right now. One call and a sniper will take you out.”

“If you don’t remember, I’m the best sniper in town. I’ll have a bullet in their heads before they can even find me.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Are you threatening me?” she said into her phone. Her optics lit up. Maroni had arrived in the casinos.

“Five armored cars and ten bodyguards,” she whistled. “What’s it gonna be, Carmine? You have three minutes.”

“You honestly think I’d-“

“Floyd used to ask double from dickheads like you. But I’m feeling nice. A million dollars. Into my account. Now.”

“A million dollars for a single man?”

“I’m the kind of pest control who takes note of the kind of rat to deal with and charges accordingly.”

“You-“

“This is Sal fucking Maroni, Carmine. Pay up. This is the last of Floyd’s debt and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

She heard curses and mumbling of almost every swear word she knew and didn’t know. A beep on her phone. One million dollars had been sent into her account.

“Thanks, Carmie.”

“Do your fucking job.”

Shrugging, satisfied, Deadshot pulled on her optics. Almost a thousand years away.

Sal Maroni, a stout man of average height with a large cigar between his lips pulled up in front of Casino Gotham, surrounded by guards armed to the teeth. He was smiling, hands up in a smug demeanor. The guards blocked the view but all she needed was a split second of a window. Deadshot held out her wrist, waited.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

She fired the shot.

From a thousand yards, the bullet shot through the cold Gotham air, past civilians and cars and windows, and it entered right into the Sal Maroni’s temple, spattering his blood all over the red carpet. His body fell to the ground, and all units, bodyguards, armed soldiers around him, scattered around.

Deadshot pulled on her white mask and ran off the rooftop, jumping across with her grappling gun as her communicators started picking up the voices.

“It’s Deadshot!”

“Send her location!”

“Get her!”

Helicopters. They’re bound to get her. These people were quick on their feet. Probably expecting this to happen. Deadshot jumped off the roof, feet flat against the wall as she held onto the rope, and slid down to the ground with a loud thud. She landed on her knees.

Looking up and around, she started hearing the choppers’ getting closer to her.

Deadshot sped to her bike, started the ignition, and fled into Gotham’s heavily condensed streets and traffic. She should probably lose the bike. She wouldn’t be able to outrun a helicopter. Passing through the bridge between Miagani and Bleake, Deadshot almost slammed head first into a car, until she wheelied up, let the wheel get caught on the roof, and rode right over it.

She slammed the throttle and curved into every space she could squeeze into.

Police sirens. Trailing right behind her. She looked back and saw a couple cops on bikes on her tail. Curving to the left and letting her hand graze the cement roads, she started riding through the sidewalk, with everyone screaming out of the way. The moment she heard gunshots, she pulled out her wrist gun and started firing into the air.

Already, she could hear the TV shops air breaking news on Maroni’s death, followed by live footage of her, on her bike, with five cops on motorcycles and a chopper coming straight for her.

Then the chopper started firing.

That wasn’t the police. That was Maroni’s, or Falcone’s men.

Probably the latter. It’s the only way they could have found her so soon. She should have known that mother fucker would take her out the moment he’d have nothing to do with her.

Either way she had to run.

She went back out into the streets and the gunshots went on. People were running, screaming, causing more of a scene than she’d hoped. Cars started to stop, and the spaces she could drive into started getting smaller. Fast. Incredibly fast. She reached an intersection, with the lights on red, and watched on as two trucks started running past each other.

She pulled the throttle.

Leaning to the side and feeling her helmet drift against the cold, hard ground, sparks started to ignite at the friction between her bike and the road as she slid under the first truck, narrowly missing the wheel, then into the second. As the wheels closed in, she felt the whiff of air driving out into the open road.

She looked back. It won't be too long before the cops can catch up.

But that’s when the chopper started firing at her again.

BAM!

The back wheel had been blown out, and her bike suddenly gave out and toppled over, sending her body flying into the air. Her back hit the ground and she rolled onto the cement. Fuck.

Easing her muscles, hand on her shoulder in the hopes that it wasn’t dislocated, she rushed into the alleyways and climbed up a fire escape.

Deadshot ran through the rooftops, bag in hand, until she ultimately threw it aside so she could jump to the other roof.

More gunshots. These fucking men were insane.

Turning on her optics, she got the AK strapped to her back and aimed as she ran.

She shot the gunner at the opening, then he fell all the way from above and landed straight for the cement.

More gunshots. They had a machine gun strapped to its sides. Deadshot started firing at the windshield, shot after shot until she’d hit the pilot.

The chopper sped forward to hover in front of her so she couldn’t fire.

“Son of a bitch.”

Deadshot jumped off the ledge, grabbed onto a fire exit railing and ran to a ladder to slide all the way down to the ground. She only had so much time before the chopper turned towards her. She ran down the alleyways, avoiding the streets.

She went into the darkest one, throwing a grenade at the other side to throw them off. They started firing where she led them and stopped when they couldn’t see her any longer.

She saw a small door leading down to an abandoned basement, with nothing more than a cloth over the entryway to block its passage. Deadshot went in, wrist gun ready, and kept her eyes on ground level. She took off her mask, adjusted her optics. No one was within a few yards away.

She waited, didn’t force herself to get out even when she’d been there for a while.

Then she turned on her communicators to connect to the GCPD’s network line.

“She’s gone.”

“Keep on the lookout.”

“You think she got Red Hood behind her back on this one?”

“Nah. They haven’t worked together in months.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. Broke up?”

She scoffed and cursed beneath her breath.

“Speaking of. Red Hood’s steering his own trouble over at Chinatown.”

“Ah fuck. You think Gordon’s sending us over?”

“Think so. He’s on a fucking massacre on Penguin’s goons. Man’s not in a good mood.”

She heard something outside. Aiming her gun out, she waited for any heat signature to come close. But there was nothing. Thankfully.

“That’s it. Can't find her.”

“They’re calling backup over at Bleake. David’s got this on Deadshot. We have to head over.”

“Copy.”

She kept the communicators on. Just to keep tabs on what was happening. To him. If anything, she’ll climb out and help him if he needed her to.

Then her phone started ringing. Unknown number.

Deadshot looked around. No one was there.

Her finger hovering over the screen for the briefest minute, she accepted the call,

And froze when she heard a familiar woman’s voice on the other end of the line. A voice so deep, calm, reserved, and utterly terrifying.

“Y/N…”

“How the hell did you get my number, Waller?”

“You wouldn’t have confirmed it if you hadn’t answered.”

“I could just get a new phone. It’s easy to get one these days.”

“You wouldn’t be able to live these days when I have half the city looking for you. Three million dollars for you alive. A million for you dead.”

“Charming. As if nobody’s already done that before.”

“Keep at this with your little game with Falcone, Ms. Y/LN, and you’re only going to regret this.”

“I have no choice. He’s got-“

“A debt from your uncle. We know. He owes him fifty million dollars’ worth of services to help him get out, and he died right before it happened.”

“You think this is scaring me, Waller?”

“It’ll be easier for all of us, including you, if you just surrender.”

“Now why on earth am I going to do that?”

“You have loved ones, don’t you? We can use them as easily as we did on your uncle.”

She snorted. “Loved ones?”

“You and the Red Hood were quite the partnership…”

“We don’t work together anymore.

“But he’s got an even better price on his head. It’ll be hitting two birds with a single stone if we got him.”

“It’s only you, GCPD, five other sectors, the NSA, CIA, Homeland Security, FBI, KGB, Mossad, and the Interpol after his head. But good luck with that.”

“I’m handing you this offer now. If you willingly surrender, you won't have to be in Belle Reve, Blackgate or even fucking Alcatraz where you truly belong. You’ll have your freedom, but you work with me, in Task Force X.”

“I know you think I live under my uncle’s shadow-“

“Don’t you?” she heard the woman snort. “You’ve been paying his debts, fighting under his name, cleaning up his mess. He’s raised you to become him. And with his talents, he also gave you all the consequences.

“But I am not Floyd Lawton. I’m done with his debts. So I’m not about to join your little Suicide Squad.”

“This is your only shot at working with me and not just for me, Ms. Y/LN.”

“Go fuck yourself, Waller.”

She turned her phone off and slammed it to the ground with her foot.

-----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

------

everyartistwas-firstanamateur @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan@xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive @lucy-roo roseangel013bf @ loxbbg reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noble zphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05x @l-horizon11 flowersgirl02

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #Jason Todd #Jason todd angst #Jason todd reader insert #reader insert #the commander #the commander series #the bullet #the bullet series #batarella

155 notes · View notes

henryobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

The Borrower and Her Bean

Summery: Melina lives in the wall between two houses with her family. What happens when lockdown is put in place and her Bean (Henry Cavill) is home.

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: Nothing Yet :)

A/N @witcherfan thank you for the request for a Borrower Henry Fic lets see where my brain will take this lol - I just watched the borrowers for the first time yesterday 😜

Picture from Ratgirlstudios's DeviantArt Gallery on pintrest

Part 2

Part 1 –

Melina enjoyed listening to the sounds of the morning, it was her normal waking practice to listen first before she opened her eyes. She could hear sounds of the wind rustling through the blades of grass outside her bedroom. The sounds of the crickets chirping a good morning to each other and the frogs singing their morning tunes. Everything sounded as it should except today there was a new sound, a sound that signalled a change.

She opened her eyes her heart beating faster now that she had heard him, the heavy footfall of the bean that lived in their house. Melina loved their house, in fact, they lived between two wonderful muse houses. There was another family that lived all the way down at the other end of this set of muses but these two were all theirs.

The house to their right was great fun, the beans that lived there had parties all the time. With lots of dancing and loud music that mum and dad were always complaining about. Melina and her brothers loved it. The one thing her mum and dad did not complain about was the food. Because they had so many parties the beans never noticed the missing food. Lots of fruit, cheese, meat pies and salami’s perfect sizes for her father and brothers to bring home. It was a good thing too because the bean who lived on their left was often gone for months at a time. If they had to borrow food from him, they would have starved or would have had to resort to getting food from the other borrowers.

Apart from the lack of food though Melina loved his house. Because it was empty most of the time, they had free reign. Her twin brothers Greg and Carson had worked out how to turn on the bean’s computer and between the two of them had even managed to play one of the beans games. Laughing she thought about the last time the bean had come home. Watching from a hole in the wall she had seen him turn on the computer and go bright red as his game had come on the screen. The boys must have done terribly because he had jumped up and stalked about the room swearing “Bloody hackers, destroying my hours of work. *&^%$ how did they even get past my firewalls” He had spent at least 3 days glued to the machine trying to undo what they had done.

Melina had two favourite things to do when he was not home. He had these statues that he liked to paint, of warriors and monsters. This time while he was away, she had gotten up the courage to paint her own statue, the paintbrushes were small so easy for her to use and sometimes she would paint for hours. There was a little part of herself that hoped that he would like the work she had done even if he never told her directly. Her absolute favourite thing to do was to sit on the windowsill in his bedroom. She could see the whole world from the window and at night if she was feeling really brave, she would sneak up there with a pillow and blanket and fall asleep watching the moon and the twinkling stars in the deep indigo sky.

He was home now so life would change, they would go back to living in the shadows. Only coming out at night and living in fear of being seen. Melina hated this, sometimes she would look up at those stars and wish with all her might that she would change from a borrower to a bean. Then maybe, maybe her heart's desire would come true. You see Melina was 25yrs old, there were no borrowers her age to go courting with. If she was really honest with herself, she would admit that she wanted to be with her bean, but that was the ultimate betrayal of her emotions to want something that could never happen.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she put her feet into the cotton balls that she used for slippers. Stretching her toes, she stood her full 4inch of height. Her room was along the wall that had ventilation to the outside facing the garden. She had chosen this spot because she loved watching the animals play in the grass and often, she would watch her bean playing with his big shaggy friend. She smelled the fresh air and turned looking casually in the pocket mirror her daddy had borrowed for her. She fixed her dark brown hair up into a braid that curled around her head. Smiling as it made her 4 inches just that little bit taller.

She changed into her day dress and walked down the hall to the room they used for a kitchen. She had dawdled this morning and the image that greeted her told her she was late. Everyone was sitting around the dining table, which was a small Jar that Daddy and the boys had scavenged from my bean’s pantry. Mum had made a tablecloth out of a piece of cloth the boys had found by the computer; it was a perfect size and she always laughed at the image of a doggie on it and the words glasses cleaner underneath. She sat on her die seat and grabbed a grape.

A loud pitter-patter could be heard running alongside the wall and sniffing, everyone froze. Daddy put his finger to his mouth admonishing us to be silent. My stomach fluttered as I heard the deep rumbling of my bean “Kal what have you found?” the puppy yipped and continued to sniff at the wall. Fear and hope mingled as Melina heard footsteps come to a halt by our room, as we all stayed silent. My bean’s deep rumble was so close as he praised “Silly puppy, I can’t hear anything, but I might put out some mouse traps ok buddy? Good Job” as both sets of pitter patters and footfalls retreated, we collectively let out our breaths. “That was close” mummy breathed as she mopped her brow with her apron.

Daddy eyed the boys and me, a frown on his face “Looks like he bought his puppy with him so you will all have to be incredibly careful if you venture into the house. I would prefer that you did not go into the house while he’s here, he is never here long, but your adults……. Or at least close to it” he said looking at the twins who had just turned 18. I hated when daddy got strict, I’m an adult granted unmated but still, I should be able to make my own decisions. I glance at my brothers who seem to be also grumbling under their breath. Don’t get me wrong I love my mum and dad, but they are old fashioned, they have lived with the motto that Borrowers should never be seen. That we should be quiet, cautious, brave and inconspicuous. Greg spoke up for all of us, looking for agreement from Carson and myself before saying “ok dad”

I was frustrated, I had been so close to finishing my statue. Instead, I spent the day sitting by my vent writing. I liked writing I could escape into a fantasy world where my dreams could become realty rather than just a thought in my head. As the day sky became dark and the stars came out I itched to sit on my sill. My bean and his puppy should be asleep. After saying goodnight to my family I crept up the brickwork steps to the small hole I had made in the wall under his bedside table. It sat up against his window to provide a perfect way to get to the sill. As I peeked out into the room, I saw his puppy sleeping at the end of my beans bed. I watched for a good 15mins to make sure he was asleep.

The beautiful puppy was a huge black and white animal. Once she heard the tell-tale snore from the bear's mouth she breathed a sigh. She was surprised her bean had not seen her rope hanging from his bedside table it had been there now for the last few years and it never seemed to be found. Gaining her footing she made the steep climb up the side of the table. Reaching the top she paused, listening, watching, her adrenaline pumping so hard she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She slowed her breathing and made the final climb to the sill.

Now she was this high she could see not only the world outside but she could see her bean. He was tucked up under the covers, only his face and his curly hair tussled into a mop on top of is head could be seen.

A gentle snore could be heard from his parted lip letting Melina know that he was in a deep sleep. She watched him for a while, she knew it was wrong but there was something comforting watching this gentle giant. Turning around she settled herself into the crook of the window from here she could see the stars and the moon as well as her bean. Again, she made her wish to the stars, her desire to be loved and to love, her desire for the one she could never have.

As she relaxed, she heard a small whimper coming from the bed. Her bean’s face scrunched up creasing his forehead as more whimpers made their way out of his mouth. Hoping to soothe rather than awaken she moved to the bedside table and hid behind the books he had stacked up ready to read. Softly at first, she began to sing a lilting lullaby. As she sang his whimpers settled down, she continued to sing until she could hear the gentle snore again. Moving back to the window she looked out to the night sky and whispered, “Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Stars watch over us tonight.” Then before she could fall asleep she made the long journey back to the safety of her bed.

I have Tagged people who follow me and who I follow if you want to be removed or added please let me know :)

@keanureevesisbae @darkverrmin @viking-raider @littlefreya@madbaddic7ed @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @lovetusilver20@crimsonrae @demivampirew @ladyreapermc@henrycavillobsessed @nitannichionne @runawayolives @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @star017 @llly113 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @ayamenimthiriel @starstruckkittyangel @lebguardians @summersong69 @notyouraveragemochii @imneonpanda @carriebee1 @ivyfatale @thereisa8ella @lucy930 @sarahmichelle5 @stuckupstucky @cleodoramer @kmuir1 @elliepower @xobriellaxo24 @xxxkatxo @supernovacocorocha @hennerslionhat @xo-mery-ox @waitedforlove743 @ladamari68 @coksy @wickedrum @harleyfranquinn @mysticalstrangerearthquake

#borrowers #little big #henry cavill

171 notes · View notes

lapis-arts · 3 years ago

Text

The Knife of Amphibia

Chapter 2: Prison Escape

Summary: Months had passed since Anne's arrest. After putting up with mistreatment and retaining her innocence, she finally thinks about breaking out of prison... Little did she know, someone is willing to help her out.

Fandom: Amphibia

Features: Assassin AU, Aged Up Anne and Plantars

Warnings: Violence, blood, interrogation

Word Count: 1,807 Words

Anne woke up in her dingy cell that morning. Her body had ached all over from sleeping in the prison’s horrible conditions for the last few months.

Lady Olivia was nowhere to be found to hear her out, having to replace the king's duty to restore order in the city, lest it burned down completely. She had told General Yunan what happened word for word since day one, but it all fell upon deaf ears. All Yunan wanted was for Anne to confess to the murder and she might get life in prison. She wasn't going to, though. She knew what happened, her story stayed consistent throughout the months, so she stood her ground and retained her innocence.

It had felt like today was the final day of her life as guards came to her cell and dragged her to the torture chambers once more, strapped down into the chair for the torturer to do as Yunan ordered. The tall and hulking toad burned Anne repeatedly with a red-hot iron rod, the human crying out in pain, the general trying once again to force a confession. A few burns later, Yunan finally stepped in.

"Ok, ok, that's enough!" She said, motioning for the torturer to leave them alone. Anne growled as the woman got closer and spat in her direction.

"I already told you everything that happened... Why won't you listen to me!?" She hissed. Yunan just gave her a grin as she walked up to Anne and placed a hand on her chin to make her look up at her. "Oh, you foolish human.. It was part of the plan all along." Yunan said, about to reveal her hand to Anne.

"Wh-what?... What are you talking about?" Anne asked, clearly confused by what Yunan was telling her.

"Andrias was bound to be murdered before you and Marcy arrived earlier than noticed.. You just showed up at the wrong place at the right time. Now, I get to hit three flies with one stone." She chuckled, Anne staring wide eyed at the general in disbelief.

"You're insane..." Anne said, her brows furrowed in anger as she tried to struggle through the straps, the thick leather leaving rope burns on her skin the more she struggled to break free to beat up Yunan senseless.

"It's far too late to put up a fight, Anne. The whole kingdom believes you killed Andrias in cold blood and poor Olivia has no time to listen to your pleas. I'm in charge of your fate now.." Yunan smirked, grabbing the iron rod the torturer left in the burning fire, poking at Anne with it to get an official fake confession for the last time.

"Don't make this harder than it already is.." she threatened, burning Anne every time she refused to agree to the confession, the human stifling her cries of pain the best she could, not giving Yunan the satisfaction of hearing her pains.

After enough torment, Yunan knew the human wasn't going to give in. By that account, refusing to admit to the murder, Yunan had sentenced Anne to death by guillotine.

Anne was to be thrown back in her cell and await execution for the next few days, her body completely sore and covered in fresh and painful burns. She can't take on this abuse anymore. Anne had to get the hell out of there. She was clearly innocent based on the evidence, but a conspiracy damned it all...

Something didn't add up.. Why would Yunan kill off Andrias? Did she have something to do with the plague, or does she just want to rule Amphibia for all the glory and power? No matter what the newt's motives were, Anne needed to get out or her head will be rolling from the chopping block this weekend no matter what. For now, all she wanted to do was rest and slumped into a corner of her cell to sleep the afternoon away.

---

Later that evening, Anne woke up from the sound of a guard rattling the bars of her cell, signifying that it's dinner time already.

"You should eat up, Anne. This meal is from a friend." Is all the guard said, leaving rather quickly. A friend, was it? The human made her way over to the food tray, seeing a bowl of soup as usual, but it was actually warm and fresh this time. As she pulled the bowl away, she noticed a folded piece of paper in tact. She nearly tossed meal aside and quickly opened it, a small key falling out on her lap, yet revealed a handwritten note directed to her, and she couldn't be more relieved to recognize it was Lady Olivia's handwriting in particular.

"Hello Anne. I apologize for my absence, but I know for a fact you are innocent. I've pestered Yunan to extend your trial, but she's too over her head for reasoning and I have no time on my hands to continue doing so. Take this key, escape your cell and take refuge into the sewers."

Anne wasted no time at that point. She looked out the bars of her cell to check for no guards doing rounds, and slipped the key into the cell lock and got out. To her convenience, it seems like the guard who gave her the note left a sword on top of one of their tables, Anne gladly took it and fled the area. The human stuck close to the walls, peeking over the corners to make sure no guards were in sight. In some parts of the prison, Anne had to stick to the pipes and vents near the ceiling to avoid the guards scattered across a room. Never had she been more grateful to endure Marcy's stealth training, as it came quite in handy until she reached the exit point.

Just outside of the entrance gate was the river that surrounded the prison. If she could find a way out, she could easily dive and swim to the sewer entrance on the other side. Unfortunately, in order to do that, she had to get through the guards. Anne evaded the guards doing rounds, sticking to the shadows and hiding behind storage containers. She managed to slip through a broken window the entry office hadn't fixed yet, seeing a newt guard yawning while he was writing something down. Anne couldn't take any chances and neutralized him, putting him in a chokehold until he passed out.

"Sorry.." she muttered under her breath, quickly traversing to the next room, taking down whoever was there. Next to the window was a control panel, a lever off to the side labeled "Gate."

Bingo, her one way ticket out of here.

She quickly pulled the lever and waited for the gate to open, slipping out through the back door. All the guards turned their attention towards the gate, puzzled as to why it was opening. Once the moment was right, Anne sprinted as fast as she could towards the exit, shoving guards aside as they got in her way.

"Sound the alarm!!" A guard yelled, a couple of officers running towards the nearest alarm, hastily ringing the series of bells.

"Shit!" Anne growled as she heard the alarms ring out, pushing herself even faster towards the ledge. Near the edge of barbed wire fence were the watch towers by the lifted bridge, the prison guards hearing the alarms and spotted Anne down below. The guards grabbed their crossbows and shot at her, Anne pulled out her sword in response, slashing a few bolts out of the way, save for one that nicked her right on the shoulder, drawing blood. Anne hissed from the sharp pain, but ignored it once she reached the ledge, and finally jumped off.

She dove down a few yards into the water, quickly swimming away. She made her way to the sewer gates just across, swiftly opening and shutting them close as she entered, finding a loose pipe and shoved the metal in between the handles of the gate, making sure no one would enter for a good moment.

Once the adrenaline rush ended, Anne took off deeper into the sewers and stopped as she was met with a locked gate. She took a step back to rest for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing on, processing that she actually broke out of prison.

"Oh my fucking frog.. I actually made it out.." she panted, sliding down the wall onto the floor to take a breather. After regaining herself, Anne turned to the locked gate again, trying to figure out a way around it. Off to the side of the wall, was another handwritten note, seemingly from Olivia again.

"Anne, if you made it, then congratulations! Beyond the sewers should be your exit, and familiar friendly faces should see to you after you leave through the storm drain. Good Luck"

Anne looked up the gate and saw a little crawl space, climbing up and crawled through to get to the other side. She soon heard footsteps and officer commands echo through the sewers, knowing it was the Royal Guard trying to find her. The human stuck towards hiding again, trying to avoid much conflict as she could this time around. Anne even had to endure swimming through the sewer water under bridges just avoid detection, thankfully leaving unscathed.

After exiting the sewers out of a storm drain, Anne finally reached above ground where she saw a familiar looking family wagon, seeing three young looking frogs keeping watch. It wasn't until she saw that unmistakable aviator hat on one of the pink frogs that she realized who it was.

The said frog with the hat turned towards the drain to see the human climbing out of it, his eyes widened in disbelief as he realized who it was and quickly hopped over to her.

"Anne! You're ok!" He said, jumping into Anne's arms and hugged her.

"Sprig! Hey buddy!" She hugged him back, embracing the moment for a bit before she placed him down as the other frogs came to see her. "Hey Polly, hey Ivy. Damn, it's been a long time." Anne said. While the sentiment was nice, they all understood they didn't have time to waste.

"We gotta get you to Wartwood! It wasn't easy for us to get past the barricade." Ivy explained, Polly brushing off the situation. "Oh please! Those guys are nothing. We can take them on if they're trouble." That statement hinting the young frogs certainly weren't going down without a fight.i

After that, the frogs quickly got Anne into the fwagon, making sure there were various hiding placing for Anne just in case someone inspected them. Sprig took the driving seat and grabbed Ol' Bessie's reigns and finally took off to make the journey to Wartwood.

#amphibia #amphibia anne #anne boonchuy #assassin au #amphibia yunan #general yunan #amphibia sprig #sprig plantar #amphibia polly #polly plantar #amphibia ivy #ivy sundew #the frogs are there just towards the end lol

10 notes · View notes

lune-hime · 4 years ago

Text

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 6

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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

Tulipa clusiana ~ A delicate tulip that resembles a pale star, shining in the indigo expanse of the night.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

You coughed.

Actually... coughed.

A sound had been pressed from your slightly agape mouth. While Levi would have preferred it to be words or an utterance of consciousness, he would take what he could get. He didn’t know if it was pathetic that his heart swelled with happiness at the occurrence.

“That’s it, my Y/N.” He praised and stroked your cheek affectionately.

“Oma-” Levi yelled, his call rising in strength as the newfound name left his lips. A harsh clanking followed by rapid footfalls against the stairs brought your grandmother into the room with Felicia hot on her heels. Her chest fell with heavy breaths and her housekeeper looked as if she was prepping herself to slay a dragon.

“She coughed.” Levi stated. He allowed a rare unfiltered grin to spread across his features. Oma looked from him to you and soon her alarm blended into a smile of her own.

“Maria, Rose, and Shina boy you almost gave me heart palpitations.” Oma grumbled but the warm look never left her face as she padded over to you. She held her hand above your mouth and felt the steady breaths on her skin.

“That’s such good news!” Felicia said with clasped hands.

“Indeed. Her body is slowly regaining some normality.”

Oma lovingly gave your hair a few strokes before turning to Levi. She gave him an unusually sweet grin and he grimaced at the strangeness of it.

“You should smile more. It suits you.” She mused smugly. The upturned corners of Levi’s mouth comically went slack at her comment.

“Come have some tea with me. Felicia won’t let me in that damned kitchen without pecking at my ear. So we’ve been banished to the living room.” She added with a flick of her wrist. Levi gave you one final glance and followed her down the stairs. When the two of them had reached the main hallway, a rapid thudding from the front yard stopped them in their tracks.

“Oh, it better not be that goddamned wolf again.” Oma hissed and reached for her shotgun. With disregard for her slipper clad feet she stormed out onto the porch. Levi jogged out behind her, almost bumping into her as she undid the safety on her gun.

“Wait!” Levi shouted and preemptively put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from cocking her weapon. She halted with his grip but raised the barrel of her shotgun to her eye.

“Damn, It’s that cursed horse.” She sighed and put the safety back on her weapon, propping it up along the siding of the house with a frustrated movement.

Your horse was absolutely deflowering whatever poor tulip that fell under his hooves. He would gallop in one direction, head swinging and tail cutting through the wind, only to playfully buck up and then zoom away in the opposite direction. His obsidian coat absolutely contrasted with the flourish of bright colors that nipped at his hooves. It was the most Levi had seen him run freely in his life, and to be honest it was kinda beautiful. He had no fences to confine him or HQ pastures to deprive him of this endless botanical ocean. The creature that he saw before him now was a world away from the sad one he took care of yesterday. And Levi was at least glad for that.

“Well how the fuck did he get out? Did you forget to lock the stall door?” Oma seethed, waving her hands in frustration and hobbling down the porch steps. She looped around to the side of the house, where tethering poles were located and grabbed halter and lead rope to catch him with.

“I did lock it but that never stops him.” Levi exhaled, absorbing her well-earned anger as he followed closely behind her. She mumbled sweet nothings about humane euthanasia and turning him loose to be a wild horse until she stopped at the edge of her field.

Noticing he had company, your horse slowed his aggressive drifting to a halt and watched the two attentively. His nostrils flared with his excited breathing and the three beings held a staring contest within the gentle chroma of petals. Taking his stillness as an invitation to come get him, Oma carefully trudged between the rows of flowers. However, she did not get far, for when she got within a reasonable distance he suddenly snorted and skittered to the side, destroying even more of the crop.

Oma snarled and began stomping over more aggressively while being mindful to step around her moneymakers. For every one step she took in his direction, your horse trotted about four feet away and stopped, as if taunting her to come in further and destroy even more plants.

Levi watched nervously from the main path. He decided it was time to jump into action when Oma managed to get within range of looping the lead rope and halter around his neck. Your horse suddenly delivered a powerful kick that if she hadn’t deftly dodged would have clocked her right in the ribs. Oma cursed in simmering frustration.

“Stop, you’ll get hurt!” Levi called, mindfully stepping through the field and grabbing one of her arms to stop her from advancing. “Let me try.”

He gave Oma a determined look to which she grumbled and surrendered him the halter. Levi approached the animal calmly to only be met with the same snotty behavior. He closed his eyes in annoyance and heard your giggle ring through his mind.

He loves it when you talk to him, see?

“You don’t have to freak out stupid.” Levi told your horse, noting the nervous giddy in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I called you a little shit yesterday, Puddle.” Levi continued through monotone gentleness and advanced slowly. Oma shook her head in disbelief.

“Am I watching a play about a princess right now? Are you going to start talking to the flowers next?” She huffed. Levi shot her an icy glare over his shoulder. Puddle snorted and eyed Oma as if in response.

“Apologize.” Levi turned to her with his default blandness. It was time Levi got back at her for all her incessant teasing.

“...Pardon?” She spat. “You think that bastard will comprehend?”

“Y/N says he understands what she is saying so; apologize. He won’t let me catch him until you say you’re sorry.” Levi was trying to hold back a smile and Oma’s perturbed features.

“Believe me, no one thinks it's more ridiculous than me.” Levi added.

“Maria, Rose, and Sina fuck me.” She mumbled before standing her ground, unamused.

“I’m sorry I was rude to you..uh-what did you just call him?” Oma started.

“Puddle.” Levi stated.

“Why does that name sound so familiar?” Oma furrowed her brow in thought.

“She named him after her pet frog.”

Oma exhaled and shook her head once more.

“Puddle.”

His ears perked up at the mention of his name. Levi eased himself closer and there were no more protests from Puddle besides a few anxious paws at the dirt.

“I hope he didn’t cause too much damage.” Levi sighed as he reached up to buckle the halter around Puddle’s head.

“Not significantly, just more weeding for me now.” Oma chuckled dryly. She fell into step with Levi when he exited the field.

“Of all things why did she choose such a cutesy name for a warhorse?” Oma wondered aloud. Levi almost laughed at the memory her question drudged up.

“She received him when she graduated from the cadets. It was rainy that day. When he was brought out to her, he immediately laid down and rolled in a muddy puddle. The brat got all dirty and she laughed when he shook mud on everyone.”

The smile that graced Oma’s lips held as much vibrancy as her flower crop. That kind of look seemed to take over her features every time you were mentioned.

“Put him in the pasture instead of the stall, he can tear up my grass to his heart’s content.” Oma instructed when they got to the front yard. Levi nodded in confirmation.

“And meet me inside after, Felicia should be done with dinner by now.”

Levi let out an exhale that puffed his cheeks as he stood in the yard for a moment, gathering his bearings. He looked over to Puddle who was munching away on the grass, acting as if he hadn't a care in his life.

"You're always going to be a pain in my ass huh?" Levi mused aloud as he jerked on the lead rope.

↞♞♘↠

Another droplet of sweat slinked its way down the side of your face as you heaved yourself up from the dirt.

“Good job Armin!” You praised the boy who gasped for air. “Your technique is improving.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. I still lost.” He laughed nervously as he graciously took your hand and let you pull him up from where he laid on the ground. You clicked your tongue in disapproval.

“In sparring matches it doesn’t matter who ‘wins’, it just matters if you improve your skills. The true winner is the one who comes out of whatever situation you are faced with alive.” You assured, boosting his confidence with an encouraging smile.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He replied with a more confident grin.

“You’ve gotten so philosophical since you became a squad leader.” Jean commented with a hint of snark.

“Someone needs to be the brains of this operation. I’m definitely second to Armin.” You lauded at the shorter boy and he blushed.

“Even I'll admit we’re at the bottom of that totem pole Jean.” Connie snickered and Jean scowled.

“That makes me the brawns then?” Jean questioned rhetorically. You rolled your eyes at his cockiness and Mikasa snorted from her place on the fence.

“You also didn’t beat me in our sparring match.” You countered playfully.

“You just said that winning doesn’t matter.” He quipped back.

“That doesn’t apply to you.” You teased and stuck out your tongue.

Jean was about to counter attack when Sasha butted in.

“Yo, Y/N. Captain Levi and Eren are back.” She said between bites of her fries she had stolen from the leftovers of today’s lunch. She nodded behind you and you turned to see them walking towards your group. Since the incident with Annie and the devastation that befell the special operations squad, Erwin decided to combine the talent of your squad with that of the remaining members of Levi’s squad. Thus you became joint squad leaders. You usually trained all together as one unit but when Levi worked with Eren one on one, you were left with Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, and Sasha. You looked down at your watch.

“It is about time we’re scheduled to be done anyway, see you guys later!” You grinned with another successful sparring session coming to a close. The mob of scouts moved out after they had said their goodbyes, absorbing Eren on their way back to HQ. Levi nodded at the group in a silent address when they passed them.

“Hi.” He greeted when you came to stand in front of him.

“Hey, enjoy the show?” You teased and casually fixed where his collar had blown up haphazardly.

“Mhm. I love watching you kick other people’s asses.” He replied with a hum as he craned his neck to give you better access.

“Someday if you’re lucky, I may even kick yours.” You winked and he huffed.

“You don’t have any plans tonight, right?” He asked, confirming you had the evening open for him. You shook your head.

“Nope, you told me to free up my schedule.” You beamed. Levi smiled softly.

“Good. I have a surprise.” He stated simply. The way your eyes bugged out of your head caused him to chuckle fondly.

Surprise? Levi? This was something rare.

“Follow me.” He instructed with a smug half grin. He led you to the stable where his horse was already tacked. Dandelion, as you had named her after her flaxen coat, had a flannel blanket secured to the back of her saddle framed by saddle bags filled to the brim.

“I couldn’t get him, as usual.” Levi sighed and you giggled in understanding.

“Be right back.” You said with a gentle hand on his arm as you passed. You re-emerged from the pasture a few minutes later with Puddle in tow.

The ride through the forest was blissful. Levi led the way through the lush grove of trees, the warm chroma of the fading sun’s tendrils breaking through the canopy and nuzzling into his dark locks. Your ride took you not too far from headquarters and soon you found yourself face to face with a lovely sight. Before you lay a pond; ducks flapped about in the cattails, crickets harmonized along its edges, and the water sparkled in the waning daylight. You dismounted Puddle with your mouth hung open in awe.

“How did you find this place?” You almost whispered, too enamored with the little cove framed by towering pines. It felt like a secret spot. Your secret spot.

“I was on my way back from one of the outposts and came across it. It’s...nice isn’t it?” Levi explained as he dismounted and began unraveling the blanket. He snuck a peek at your amazed expression and felt himself swell with warmth.

“Yeah, it’s wonderful.”

Levi walked over to the large grassy area and flicked the blanket open and let it fall flat onto the earth.

“How can I help?” You asked, still oblivious to the purpose of this excursion. Not that you were complaining. The inner romantic in you was squealing in delight.

“I’ll do it, go check out the pond for a bit.” He smiled with a nod in the direction of the water. Leaving the horses to graze near the entrance to the clearing you trotted down to the water’s edge. It had been so long since you had been in such a natural space. It reminded you of the big lake in your village where Oma would take you and Jean fishing as kids. You were being lulled into a state of relaxation by the gentle ripples of the water when Levi’s call brought you back to reality.

“Ready.”

When you regrouped with him, the fruit of his actions manifested a grin that was so wide it hurt your cheeks. The blanket was adorned with two plates and a basket full of delicious smelling food. You couldn’t contain your excited grin as Levi patted the spot next to him.

“Did you make this?” You asked in shock as Levi served you grilled salmon and a warm roll.

“Yes.” Levi chuckled at your continued amazement. You took the plate gratefully and smiled when he reached for a thermos you knew had to contain tea.

“By yourself?” You pressed. He side eyed you as he poured you a cup. He blew on it once and passed it over to you.

“I...had some help.” He confessed.

“One of the cooks?” You guessed as you grabbed a fork and napkin from the basket.

“No, surprisingly. Erwin.” Levi stated as he took a sip of the tea. Your eyebrows furrowed in astonishment.

“No fucking way, Erwin cooks?” You chortled. You pictured Levi struggling with the stove and being corrected by Erwin who stood watch over his shoulder. Your happiness was contagious and Levi began laughing too.

“I was shocked too.” He smiled genuinely and hoped you could see how warm you made him feel in moments like these. In all moments, really.

Your meal was enjoyed with your usual playful banter and discussions of your days.

“So what’s the occasion for all of this?” You finally asked when you had both finished eating and tidying up. It wasn’t your anniversary, it wasn’t either of your birthdays. It wasn’t Puddle’s birthday either. (Yes, you indeed celebrated that.) Levi cleared his throat in response. His cheeks were dusted with the faintest of roses. His uncharacteristic bashfulness had you practically vibrating with anticipation.

“It’s uh, the day that you first told me you loved me.” Levi declared with a tenderness to his tone that he rarely expressed. Your heart threatened to burst from your chest as it filled past its brim with pure affection.

“You remembered the date?” You asked, tears welling at your eyes at the touching confession. You remembered the time as vividly as if it had happened yesterday but not the numerics of the day.

Levi nodded and brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. The devotion that burned from every essence of his being radiated onto you with such a heat you would have surely melted into pure love without his hands holding you.

“Y/N, I know I’m the king of shit when it comes to expressing my emotions. But if there is one thing I want to be good at expressing, it's my love for you.” He professed with a passionate kiss to just under your jaw.

“I want to make sure you know how enough you make me feel, how much life you have breathed into me.” He continued, his voice straight out of a confectionary. He reached up to kiss your forehead.

“I can’t think of myself without thinking about you. I’ll save the self depreciation because I don’t want you to hit me.” He smirked and you huffed happily through your incoming tears. His kisses trailed to your cheeks, effectively curbing the salty stream.

“I’m working on saying it more. You make me feel loved every moment of my life and I need you to feel that way too.” He stated with velvety purpose. This time his lips touched upon yours and you molded into his embrace as if you were two droplets of water from the nearby pond.

“Levi…” You exhaled between kisses, too overcome with emotion to say anything other than his name. For his name was the source of your greatest happiness and you cradled it close to you always. He took the opportunity of your speech to slip his tongue between your parted lips. You moaned at the closeness as Levi gently pushed you back onto the blanket.

“I love you, Y/N. Infinitely.” He whispered to affirm all he had confessed previously. His eyes held yours with such a desperate desire that you equally matched.

“And I love you, Levi. Always.” You returned. Your wandering touch down his torso transferred thousands of unspoken professions of love into his being. When he pressed his body down to yours, you swam in his palpable admiration.

Soon your pleasurable shrieks were spilling from your throat with the sporadic intensity of firecrackers. With every deep thrust, the fuse lit, exploded, and relit again, sending you into an endless loop of ecstasy. Levi’s next thrust hit you in just the right spot to spark electricity and you let out a passionate moan that echoed off the trees. You yelped and moved to cover your mouth, only Levi was quicker. Walls forbid a patrol heard you.

He pinned your hands over your head as he continued to move against you. Removing his mouth from your neck, he regarded you with lustful intensity. His pupils were dilated and locked onto your blissfully contorted features with eyelids heavy with raw pleasure. His lips were swollen from endowing you with praise and it was enough to send a jolt of arousal coursing through your figure.

“Don’t. I want to hear you. We’re far enough away that only I’ll hear your sounds.” He cooed just before a husky moan parted his lips as the roll of his hips grew more fluid. You obeyed his wish and blessed his ears with another erotic cry as his hands smoothly traced down your neck, over your breasts, down your sides, and came to squeeze at your hips. The grasp gave him more leverage and you felt yourself seeing stars when you bucked your hips to match his movements.

“Levi I’m close-”

“Fuck, Y/N. Me too-” Levi groaned, the pleading tone you used to speak his name sending him over the edge. As the wave of his orgasm crashed into him, he was so mesmerized in the way your back arched into his hips, the way your hands feverishly grasped at the fabric of the blanket, and the way your supple breasts bounced with every pump, that he almost forgot to pull out.

What happened in the next moment, though, made that choice for him. A resounding thud at his side ceased his movements and he pulled out of you in alarm. You both whipped your head in the direction of the intrusion. Before you could even register what was going on, Puddle rammed Levi in the torso with his head and sent him stumbling backwards.

“Levi!” You squeaked and scrambled to get between him and your raging horse. Holding your hands out in front of Puddle, you stood protectively over Levi who was still recovering from the sudden flight.

“Hey, hey! I’m fine. See?” You gently called to him. He stamped his hooves a few times anxiously before falling under your calming aura.

“I’m fine sweet boy.” You assured and reached out to take his head in your hands and stroke his nose. Hearing Levi curse under his breath behind you, you tried to contain your laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

“Are you alright, Levi?” You asked with a guilty bite of your lip. He glared up at you and your puffed cheeks from stifling your amusement. He was only annoyed for a moment before the two of you cracked up in unison. He shook his head and got up.

“Yeah. He just knocked me over.” Levi replied, his irritation washing away the moment he regarded your curves accentuated by the caress of the moon’s rays. Levi rose and moved to your side. When he got within proximity of his hand ghosting the curve of your lower back, Puddle pinned his ears and snorted. Levi jerked his hand back.

“Oh fuck you, horse.” He spat and glared at the animal. You giggled once more and tethered Puddle to a tree next to Dandelion. A shiver raked your body at the loss of Levi’s vigorous body heat as you padded back over to your love nest.

“You better be fucking me, captain.” You ordered with a viscous sweetness that slid right down Levi’s throat. You lied down on the blanket with your legs pressed together. You shimmied your hips in a sinful rotation that had Levi twitching with arousal at your forefront request.

“It’s unfair you got to cum and I didn’t.” You pouted suggestively.

“It is poor manners to leave anything unfinished. But I have another idea.” He purred. The ethereal view you had of your lover from this angle made you gasp. The puff of air that left your lips released all the boldness you had mere seconds ago into the atmosphere. Heat bloomed on your cheeks at the view that convinced you for a split second you had to have been in a painting. The indigo twilight bathed him in a pale argent aura that only elevated the silver shine of his eyes as they regarded you as if you were the only living being within these walls, within the world itself. He wore the light of the moon as a cloak that kissed his muscles and ivory skin. He was like a fallen star that had just tumbled into your lap.

From your lap, Levi gingerly spread your legs. He spared one more cautious glance towards your horse before nipping at your plush thighs. Where he bit, he followed with an open mouthed kiss that felt like you were being touched by the wing of a butterfly. While his kisses were extraordinarily soft, his hands were not so. They pawed at the flesh of your upper thighs and journeyed to your ass to squeeze. The combination of pressures was driving you insane .

“Levi-” You whined when his hot breath tickled the top of your core. He flicked his eyes up to meet your wonton expression. His charged gaze stayed cemented to you as he dipped down to languidly lick your wetness. When he tasted your sweetness, Levi let out a syrupy moan that vibrated against your clit and reignited the fireworks. Your thighs squeezed together in euphoria, locking his head in place. Your excited spasm delved his tongue into your slick opening and stole any coherent thought from you. He momentarily broke from his ministrations, rising from you with lips glossy with your juices. He licked them tantalizingly slow and you whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry, princess, because of our interruption we are just getting started.” He hummed in satisfaction before diving right back into your intoxicating taste.

#levi #levi x reader #LEVI ACKERMAN #AoT #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin #hange zoe #jean kirschstein #bisexual jean #levi/reader

36 notes · View notes

wreckofawriter · 5 years ago

Text

Magnolia

Royal Au

Pairing: prince!Sirius Black x reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: you sneak over a wall and meet a young prince and you keep sneaking over

Song to Set the Vibe: White Ferrari ~ Frank Ocean

A/n me: I hate cliches also me: write 6k word fic cliche. Anyway this was really fun to write, and it took me forever. (Please excuse any mistakes. I edited at 3am)

It started with pink petals, the delicate things falling over the old mossy wall reminding you of a scene from a novel your mother had read to you. You used to stare at the branches which peeked over the wall like the sun over the horizon in the early morning. You fell in love with the scent of the flowers, it was soft and sweet. It wasn’t until you were eight years old when you finally saw the tree in its entirety.

By then you were reading the books which your mother had recited to you. One always tucked into your small bag among a small notebook, quill, and ink which you always feared would overturn. You had a lot of free time at that age, your parents didn’t trust you in the bakery yet and you were old enough to wander on your own.

One day you found yourself staring up at the mossy wall which seemed miles high from where you stood. Your interest in the large tree was peaked, your thirst to perch on its sturdy branches was slowly killing you. You eyed the wall as you did an arithmetic problem, brow furrowed, mind reeling. You let out a small sigh, the wind mimicking you as a small gust blew your untamed hair across your face. You placed your hand onto a small stone jutting out from the barrier; it gave you a good hold. You had to balance on your toes to reach it, your other hand digging into the moss as you hoisted yourself upwards, feet scrambling for a second before your left found a jut. You smiled gazing thousands of feet upwards where you would see the branches glancing down at you.

You continued the pattern; one hand, a hold, one foot a hold. You slipped twice, once letting out a small yelp as your hands dug into the stone holding you in place, feet searching desperately for a hold. They found one and you took a breath, calming your racing heart as the adrenaline which surged through your body retreated.

After what felt like hours your fingers found the smooth top of the wall, you hooked your arm across it pulling yourself over with a groan. You swung your right leg over, your knee banging on the small lip of the top as you did. You winced but the pain was forgotten as you peered out into the vast garden which lay beneath you. You felt your lips part, short breaths getting caught in your throat.

It was magnificent. There must have been thousands of flowers; tulips, roses, daffodils, bluebells, lilies and so much more. Assortments of ferns and rounded bushes dotted the area. You could make out a large castle in the distance, for a second you thought you had imagined it. The grass was so green you thought it to be enchanted.

Your mind wandered back to the magnolia tree. It must have been ancient. Its trunk as wide as a large barrel, its branches reaching for the sky, its flowers spread wide, their intoxicating scent making a smile break onto your lips. You thought of Alice and wondered if this is how she felt when she fell into Wonderland.

You picked out the sturdiest branch which crossed the wall before darting along it and collapsing into a larger and safer one. Your smile widened. You sat yourself at the junction of two thick branches humming quietly as you took out a book and began to read, your leg swinging lazily as petals drifted to the ground around you.

For the next week, you struggled up the wall scraping your knees and bruising your fingertips to climb into the tree. You would stay there for hours. Playing among its branches or scribbling sketches in your journal, you had switched out your quill for a pencil so you didn’t have to worry about the ink anymore.

By your tenth day, the flowers had begun to wilt, late May was turning to June and the soft pink was to be replaced by leafy green. You were disappointed that they would be leaving you, they were so incredibly beautiful. As you scampered across your branch into your seat a shimmer of black caught your eye. You craned your neck to see a boy tucked at the bottom of the tree, his knees were drawn to his chest, his head buried within them. His body shook with sobs, hair spilling around him.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion before quietly descending the tree. You had never touched your feet onto the grass of the lawn, you didn’t dare, too afraid it's magic might pierce you. You swallowed your fear and dropped beside the boy, shaking the branches as petals rained around you.

The boy looked up, started by your sudden appearance. You flashed him a grin, three teeth missing from its uniform.

“Hi!” You spoke, your voice cutting through the quiet of the garden.

He stared up at you, deep grey eyes widened, his cheeks blotchy and eyes rimmed in red, “Hello.” he whispered, rubbing his eyes with his fists and wincing.

“I’m y/n. What’s your name?” you asked falling to your knees in front of him, your skirt pooling around you.

“Sirius.” He responded quietly, “Sirius Black.”

The name felt familiar like you had heard it a thousand times before, you brushed away the feeling, “That’s an odd name.”

He shrugged weakly, “Everyone in my family had an odd name.”

“Well, I quite like yours.” You paused frowning, “Why are you crying?”

He bit his lip, eyes darting away from you, he drew back into himself and you felt your disappointment deepen.

“I won’t tell anyone you know.” You huffed sliding off your knees and crossing your legs, “I don’t really have anyone to tell anyway. All the girls I used to play with say I’m strange now.” your bruised fingers danced over a fallen petal, picking in up and spinning it between them.

He glanced back up at you, “You swear you won’t tell?”

You nodded enthusiastically.

He sighed, gaze falling onto the pink and white dusted ground. He held out his hands to you. You peered at them, eyes widening for a moment. Thin scars ran across them, some white with old age, some a soft pink. It was the deep red that caught your attention. They were angry, the skin around them puffy as small rivers of blood dripped down to his wrist.

You took his hands delicately into your own, Sirius looked back up at you tears making his eyes glassy.

“I broke a vase.” He explained tearfully, “My mom hurts us when we break things.” A sob ripped from his throat and you felt your chest contract in sudden pain.

“Now I’m gonna have big ugly scars on my hand.” He wailed more tears spilling off his chin.

“It’s okay.” You beamed at him and he stopped, hiccuping as you drew his attention to the white marks which riddled your own hands. “I burn myself all the time, I have scars all over my knees and legs too.”

Sirius’s eyes danced across your own marks, most were small and wide, a few longer and thin like his own.

“Once they heal you can say you got them fighting a dragon like I do. We can say we slayed it together, then maybe some of those girls would actually believe me.” You felt your heart grow lighter at the idea. “Plus I know how to make them stop hurting.”

“You do?” He gasped.

You nodded, “My momma does it all the time.” With that, you brought his hands up to your lips placing light kisses on each one.

Sirius felt his cheeks heat for unknown reasons, the stinging of the slashes seeming to fade as your lips grazed them.

As you pulled giggled and raspberry pastries from your bag Sirius decided you were an angel that God had dropped from the magnolia tree.

It only took you one night to put two and two together. You asked him if he had ever been turned into a frog the next day and when he looked at you like you were crazy you explained that princes did that sometimes.

Sirius’s eyes widened, “You know I’m a prince?” his voice was shaky like it was about to break.

You nodded, “Why else would you live in a castle, plus I remembered your name, my momma talks about you and your brother sometimes.”

There was a pause, you expected Sirius to say something but when he didn’t you moved on talking about a fish you saw in the stream behind your house.

As you packed up to leave for the day Sirius grabbed your hand stopping you in your tracks. His eyes were wide, his lips drawn into a small pout, “You don’t care that I’m a prince?”

You scrunch your nose, “Why would I care?”

Sirius broke into a smile and shrugged, you liked it better when he smiled.

You tucked your book into your bag and jumped from the lowest hanging branch pulling yourself onto it, a flurry of pink and white fell onto the boy below you, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” You called as you scaled the tree, disappearing behind the wall a few moments later.

Sirius started at where you had been just before you hid from sight, his grin was glowing, “Tomorrow.” He mumbled softly to himself. You were coming back to him.

You were ten now. You could climb the garden walls with your eyes closed, on muscle memory alone. You and Sirius had spent your time under the leaves of the magnolia reading and playing together.

Today marked the two-year anniversary of your friendship not that either of you knew or cared. You crept quietly down the branches until you sat just above the boy. His head was buried in a book, his eyebrows knitted from frustration. You hooked your legs around the branch and swung downwards catching him by surprise.

“Whatcha reading?” You asked the small skirt you were wearing dropping to your chin, your tights on display, something your mother said was quite rude.

Sirius frowned and you brought your hands to the branch swinging your legs out from around it and plopping onto the grass next to him.

“It’s a book on ancient history. My mother wants me to read it.” He mumbled.

You glanced at the first few words on the page and scrunched your nose, “Sounds boring.”

“It is.” He agreed, looking to face you only to find you had turned away, peering into your small satchel. You spun back around with a small torn paperback in hand.

“Read this.” you stated pushing it into his grip, “It’s about a boy who travels the world looking for his little sister. It’s much more fun.”

Sirius gazed at the rumpled cover, the pages were dog-eared, a terrible habit you had gained from your lack of bookmarks.

“There is a witch and a princess and even a dragon!” You gushed, glancing up at him with wide eyes, “You swear you’ll read it?”

Sirius nodded, “Of course.”

You squealed in excitement, “When you finish you have to tell me all about your favorite character. Mine’s Rocky she’s the best and she- nevermind.” You cut yourself off, “I don’t want to spoil it.”

Sirius grinned back at you, his heartbeat speeding as you gleamed in the mid-afternoon light, the shadows of petals falling around you reminding him you were real, not just some daydream he had created in his mind.

Two more years had passed. Not long after giving your book to Sirius, your mother decided you were old enough to work at the family’s bakery. You never liked baking much, it was a bit of a hassle and far too technical, but your parents didn’t seem to care.

You spent most days inside the stuffy back kitchen making batter and doing dishes. You still weren’t allowed to do anything fun like frost cakes or cut cookies. Your life became long and boring, your free time disappeared as the expectations for you rose.

Weekends became a safe haven. Each Saturday you would scale the wall and hurry down a tree to meet Sirius. You didn’t play as many games as you used to. You no longer believed in dragons and mermaids or princes turning into frogs. Instead, you spent your time talking and reading, Sirius had grown taller than you now, his chin almost able to reach the top of your head as you stood side by side. The baby fat from his face had also begun to disappear and you heard girls around town whisper about how handsome the eldest prince had become.

You never really noticed though, he was still your best friend and you didn’t think him growing a few inches would change that.

It was Saturday, your favorite day of the week. You slipped silently down the tree, its flowers still closed, ready to bloom in a few days time. To your surprise, Sirius wasn't seated below the reaching branches but instead in the lawn, his bag and book disregarded in the light shade.

You slipped off your shoes, dropping to the ground and beginning towards the boy. The grass tickled your feet and a small gust of wind blew your smooth hair in front of you. As you tucked it out of the way you noticed the weapon held in your friend’s hand.

You called out to him and he turned giving you a full display of the sword his small hands grasped.

Your eyes widened as you investigated the metal, sunlight made it shimmer, small engravings in a language you didn’t understand became visible down its center. Its handle was made of a deep red leather which matched its sheath.

“It’s so cool right!” Sirius beamed down at you.

You nodded but the fresh bandages on his hands kept you from smiling. He caught you staring, his eyes falling as he turned away from you.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled, you could hear the hurt in his voice realizing quickly you had killed his happiness.

You panicked for a brief moment before plastering on a smile, “Can you do any moves with it yet?” you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him around.

His enthusiasm jumped back, “Yeah! I got taught this one where you slice it across and then swing it over your head like this.” he mimicked his explained actions and you giggled as he clumsily slowed it down. It was clear it was too heavy for him.

A bit of red dusted his cheeks, “My mother says I’ll grow into it.”

“You will.” You agreed, “I brought some peanut butter cookies if you want.”

He grinned and the two of you began back towards your tree. You sat down with a small huff taking out the wrapped goods and passing them to him.

“I have to start working full time at the bakery soon.” You sighed removing an apple from your satchel

Sirius felt his heart crumble. He wouldn’t be able to see you? What would he do with all his free time? He already only saw you two days a week, three if he was lucky. How was he supposed to deal with never seeing you? It seemed like an impossible task.

“I was thinking we could meet in the evening instead,” you suggested snapping Sirius from his downwards spiral, “My mom usually lets me go around six or seven so do you wanna meet here at seven-thirty? I know it’s kinda late and if you don’t want to then that’s fi-”

“I don’t mind.” Sirius rushed, “Not at all, you can come more days then right?”

You nodded smiling up at him, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your shoulders brushed, the wind picking up and causing the budding flowers to ruffle. Sirius leaned closer to you and caught your scent; cinnamon and caramel. Warm and sweet. His heartbeat sped and he felt his ears grow red.

“Y/n.” He spoke suddenly and you turned to face him, the sunlight catching your eyes and making them gleam, “Will you marry me?”

You furrowed your brows.

“I-I mean when we are older obviously,” He explained hurriedly, his face heating up. “I mean you’re my best friend and everything and I just thought it would be nice.”

You giggled a bewitching sound, “You don’t want to marry me Sirius.” you laughed shaking your head.

You were wrong.

The evening sun glinted in your eyes as you sat atop the wall, you could see Sirius in the lawn, his sword swinging around him in a glint of silver. He had gotten quite good with it in the past two years. You watched for a few moments mesmerized by his smooth movements. You shook your head, your neat ponytail swinging behind you.

When your feet touched the ground you hummed dropping your bag and walking towards the boy. You were quiet, making sure to step slowly and carefully You neared him stifling a giggle and suddenly he swung towards you. You ducked, yelping in surprise.

Sirius gasped, “Y/n! Are you okay?” he bent towards you and saw your body shake. For a horrifying moment, he thought he had hurt you.

You stood up laughing, “Sorry” you giggled, “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you while you were doing you swingy things.”

He rolled his eyes relief breaking over him, “They’re called positions not ‘swingy things’”

“Yeah, whatever your highness.” You mocked taking the sword from his hand before he could protest. You were surprised at its weight, finding it hard to imagine that he could swing such a thing at age twelve, “Jesus this thing is heavy.” You mumbled using two hands to bring it over your head in a satisfying swoosh.

“You’re holding it wrong,” Sirius smirked.

You stuck your tongue out at him, scrunching your nose.

He tsked his tongue grinning, “So childish.”

“Yeah because you’re the king of maturity.” you scoffed, “Now are you gonna show me how to hold this thing or just laugh at me?”

“It’s pretty funny to watch.” He admitted shrugging and you pouted, Sirius found himself thinking it was incredibly adorable. “Fine.”

He stepped behind you, his arms circling around your waist and gripping over your own.

“You want your thumb folded over like this,” He mumbled in your ear as he moved your hands accordingly. You fought a blush as his breath fanned over your cheek.

“You have to make sure that you have a strong grip, so don’t overlap your hands.” He instructed. Sirius felt like he was about to combust, his heart was speeding in his chest at an inhuman rate, his cheeks were blazing red as your body pressed into his own. Your sugary scent had taken him over. The urge to spin you around and kiss you had gotten so strong he realized he couldn’t go another second holding onto you.

Sirius stepped away and you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“And now you can swing.” He spoke breathlessly and you did, slicing the air in two.

“That was fun.” You giggled but Sirius barely heard you.

You were entirely unaware of the effect you had on him. You had no clue that he would spend the next week imagining how you felt in his arms. You were forever innocent of the fact that you would plague his dreams.

You groaned, your feet ached and your hands were sore. You had been up since four, your mother insistent on you prepping pastries and then forced you to spend the day frosting cupcakes with tedious designs. You hated that you were so good at it, you had an amazing gift for frosting art which meant many involuntary hours spent with piping bags in hand.

The wall was easy to climb but your aching feet complained and you considered turning around, you could have used the extra hours of sleep. Sirius flashed through your mind and you began up the wall. When you reached the top you sat there for a moment, the tree looked awfully difficult to climb in your fatigue.

“Sirius.” You called and you watched him spin towards your voice, the full moon reflecting off of his deep black hair.

He walked over and stood below you with his arms crossed, “You’re late.”

You groaned, “I know, I’m sorry, my mom wanted me to finish this ridiculous cake.”

He smiled, “I thought you weren’t coming for a bit.”

“So did I.” You mumbled. “Look I don’t want to climb the tree right now.” You explained, “So I’m gonna jump, catch me okay?”

Sirius’s eyes widened, “What?!”

“Catch me!” you repeated sliding to the edge of the wall, hands pressed into it, ready to push you off.

“Are you crazy?” He shouted and you ignored his words, taking in a breath.

“On three!”

Sirius began to panic, “Y/n I don’t know if I can-”

“One.” You moved to the very edge, your heart thumping.

“This is a stupid idea!”

“Two.” You spoked hands pressed and ready.

“I can’t believe you are doing this,” Sirius mumbled

“Three!” You took in a deep breath and pushed off the wall.

Sirius held out his arms not even sure how to brace himself. You collided with his chest taking you both to the ground with an unsettling thump. Sirius groaned, his back pressed into the damp grass, his hair fanning over his face. He could feel a dull ache in his right elbow and left ankle. Your giggle drew him from his slight pain, he opened his eyes watching as you brushed his hair from his face.

“Thank you, your majesty.” You whispered, smirking down at him from where you were seated on his chest.

“You know I hate it when you call me that.” He murmured and your smile only widened.

“It’s only proper that I pay my respects.” Your voice was mocking yet deathly sweet.

He scoffed, “You just jumped from ten feet because you didn’t feel like climbing. What about you is proper?”

You laughed again rolling off of his chest and onto the grass beside him. You started up at the stars for a moment your heart still beating too quickly as adrenalin left you. You traced the constellations, the comforting sounds of crickets and Sirius’s breaths making your eyelids grow heavy.

“I started reading philosophy recently.” You spoke softly, a warm gust of wind rushed through the late summer air “I hate it.”

Sirius snorted beside you, “I figured you would.”

“I just don’t understand why they make everything so fucking complicated. I mean why does there have to be an answer to everything?” You mumbled you felt Sirius’s hand brush your own for a moment, “I started to wonder why they had all these questions in the first place. Why does there need to be a reason for living? Can’t we just...live?”

His knuckles brushed yours again.

“I started coming up with my own answers. Each time they asked a question I would just say the first thing that came to my mind and stick with it.”

His fingers entangled with yours, his hand fitting snug within your own.

“Some greek asked, ‘Why are we living?’ and all I could think to answer was because we haven’t died yet. It was suddenly all so simple and meaningless.” You turned your head toward Sirius. “I liked it better that way.”

Silence fell, the stars blinked back at you and for the first time in a long time you imagined you were flying among them. Sirius’s hand was warm in your own. The wind had stilled and you drifted to sleep beside the magnolia tree.

You felt angry tears rush down your face as your feet hit uneven cobblestone. It was seven-thirty on the night before your sixteenth birthday. You scampered up the wall, your toes slipping from their holds twice as sobs ripped from your throat. Your knees hit the lip on the wall’s top, something you hadn’t done since eight years before. Tears made your vision fuzzy and your head throb as you clumsily stumbled down the tree, slipping on the last branch and falling into a heap at its trunk.

Sirius rushed towards you, “Y/n, are you okay?” you felt his hands on your hips as he drew you into his hold. You fisted his shirt burying your face into his chest as you continued to sob. The boy who held you was stunned, unsure. He felt his chest seize in sudden pain at the sound of your suffering.

Your cries quieted and were suddenly replaced with a shriek of anger. “That fucker!” you shouted pushing away from the embrace and Sirius knew immediately who had upset you.

It was no secret to him that your father wasn’t the nicest person around. He never hit you or your mother but his anger was out of control.

“I spent hours on it.” you sobbed, “Hours! My fingers were cramped from holding that stupid fucking pipping bag and it looked so good. So perfect, best cake I have frosted yet. And then he gets mad because he forgot to set a timer which is not my problem in the first place and he just destroys it.” your voice was laced in venom, your teeth gritted as rage-filled tears dripped off your chin.

“They are supposed to pick it up two days from now. Which means I’m gonna have to spend my entire day tomorrow making and frosting a new one.” Your voice broke in two and you felt like collapsing again.

You felt Sirius’s hands cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away angry tears. You looked at him through a glassy haze, your eyes felt hot and sticky, eyelashes thick with saltwater. He wore a soft frown, his eyebrows furrowed a slight pout on his lips.

You stared at him for a moment, sniffling softly as your hands loosened around his shirt. His eyes shimmered in the late sunlight, hair framing his pale face, cheeks blossoming with deep red roses. He was beautiful.

You leaned forward suddenly, your lips colliding with his own.

Sirius’s narrowed eyes grew wide before sinking shut as your hands fisted his shirt again, drawing him closer to you. His own found your hips, tightening as your tongue grazed his bottom lip. He opened his mouth allowing you to deepen the kiss as your hands wandered up around his neck, lightly tugging on his hair. You tasted of bitter tears and the sweetness of sugar. You pulled away slowly, your breath fanning across Sirius’s stunned face.

“Do that again.” He mumbled.

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

You did, your lips meeting slower this time, your felt Sirius sink into you, his lips dancing with your own, the kiss was slower than your first, neater. His lips trailed to the corner of your mouth, laying butterfly kisses on your cheeks before wandering down your jaw to your neck where he nipped lightly at your skin. After a few minutes, he trailed back up to your lips placing a light kiss on them before pulling away.

Your breathing was short, heart hammering heavily in your chest.

“I got you something,” Sirius mumbled a large smile plastering across his lips.

You grinned lazily, “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugged, “Well I did.” With that, he reached into his pocket and removed a small thin box wrapped in soft pink tissue.

You took it carefully into your hands, tearing the paper to reveal a small back box, you glanced up at him and he nodded, eager for you to continue. When you lifted the lid your eyes widened, “Holy shit Sirius.”

On a soft bed of white lay a necklace. The gleam of the heavy diamond was blinding. You lifted it from the case as delicately as you could turning to meet Sirius who was beaming.

“Do you like it?” He asked in anticipation.

“Sirius, this is insane.” You gasped, “This had to have cost a fortune.”

He shrugged, “It wasn’t that much.”

You looked back at the gem mouth dropping, “I, I don’t think I can accept this, I mean.” You released a breath, “This probably costs more than my house.”

“Please take it.” Sirius begged, “I have no use for it if you don’t and you would look so beautiful in it.”

“Sirius this is literally insane.” You mumbled but he ignored you, taking the jewelry from your grip.

“Turn around.” He mumbled and you complied, feeling him drape the cold stone around your neck and clasping it. His lips danced across the back of your neck before he grabbed your shoulders turning you back to face him.

His eyes roamed over your form as you peered up at him through your eyelashes, “God you are so fucking gorgeous.” He murmured and you felt your cheeks go red.

“Shut up,” you muttered, bringing your hands to your face.

“How can I shut up when you are so stunning?” He grinned.

“Really it’s not funny, Sirius.” You glared at him with no real malice behind your eyes.

He hummed bringing your lips to his own once again.

Dating Sirius was amazing. For a while anyway. It was always amazing when you were alone. Just you and him seated under your tree, the sweet smell of flowers and endless baked goods as you talked about philosophy or the stars. It was everyone else who made it so difficult, so complicated.

When you had brought him to your house your mother had fainted as you explained that you had known the future king for almost a decade. And then she fainted again when you revealed you were dating.

Sirius’s family was an entirely different story. When he announced he was dating a girl who was anything but nobility his mother had slashed open his hands again and demanded your name so she could have you put to death for witchcraft. Sirius warned her that if any harm came to you he would kill her and then leave. His threats were not empty.

Sirius brought you to the castle many times over the two years you had been dating, but you were never faced with his mother and you were grateful for that. You met Regulus who was stiff and proper, but nice enough despite the occasional insults he threw at your class. Sirius’s father was wooden and almost seemed numb, you figured he had to be, married to the women that he was. Sirius had burst into laughter when you told him that.

You preferred the gardens to the castle, although you didn’t have to sneak into them anymore. Instead, you walked through the gates where you were always met by Sirius.

People stared at you and whispered behind their hands in town. You hated the sudden attention you got, it was suffocating. Everything felt suffocating. The sudden coldness from your family, the hatred from Sirius’s, the stares and the expectations, and the attention. It all felt like it was squeezing the life out of you and you found yourself missing days under the magnolia tree when it was just you and Sirius, not everyone else in the world.

You walked through the gates, your bag slung lazily around your shoulder. You were surprised to find SIirus absent from the entrance, you were turning to leave when a guard stopped you.

“Prince Sirius has requested your presence in the gardens, my lady.” He spoke and you cringed unsure if it was because of Sirius being addressed as ‘Prince’ or yourself as ‘my lady’. Both made your stomach churn.

You nodded numbly making your way towards the old magnolia, its sweet scent had returned, early spring making everything seem fresh. You descended the hill, noticing small lights tucked into the tree you loved so dearly.

As you neared you realized they were candles and you felt your heart stopped. Sirius stepped out from behind the tree in a suit, his hair was brushed back from his face and you almost didn’t recognize him. As he smiled at you you felt tears pool in your eyes. They were bitterly cold. He took your hand in his own.

“I love you y/n,” he whispered and you couldn’t respond, your heart throbbed, “I think I’ve been in love with you since I was eight years old.” you felt your throat go dry. “I want you to be with me for the rest of my life.” He sank to a knee, opening a velvet box with a ring far too big inside, “Y/n y/l/n, will you marry me?”

You felt numb, sobs shaking your body, “No.”

Sirius’s eyes widened, smile dropping, “What?”

You took in a shaky breath trying to control the whimpers that wanted to escape, “No.” you repeated, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Sirius stood, the little velvet box being tucked away, “Y/n, what are you talking about?”

You felt more tears build in your eyes, “I can’t anymore Siri.” you sobbed, “I’m so sorry, I tried I really tried, but I can’t.”

“Wait, y/n,” he tried to reach out and hold you but you pushed him away drawing into yourself. “It’s fine if you want to wait a little longer I don’t mind, you don’t have to get so upset.”

“You aren’t listening to me Sirius.” You cried, “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do us anymore. It’s just all too much.”

The heartbreak in his eyes made it a thousand times worse, “Us?” his voice was small.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, “I just can’t take the stares and the whispers and the hate. I can’t be called my lady and dress up in diamonds.” You sobbed, “I can’t be a queen.”

Sirius’s eyes had grown glossy, “Y/n/n if this is about my family, you don’t have to worry.”

“It’s not just your family, it’s, it’s everyone.” You explained, “My own parents treat me like an outsider and I don’t even know why. People stare at me in the streets and whisper behind my back. I can’t deal with it all Sirius, it’s killing me.” you let out a breath, shaking, “It’s killing me Siri.”

Sirius stood stunned in front of you, tears trailed down his face, he looked hurt, betrayed.

“I love you.” You mumbled moving onto your toes to place a final kiss on his lips, he responded slowly and you slipped away a moment later, “But I can’t be a queen.”

You turned around quickly about to break into a run when you felt a hand grip your wrist.

You swung back around to face him and you felt your heart shatter, his eyes were full of heartbreak, desperation evident on his features, “I’ll leave all this.” He whispered, “I’ll leave it all, it can be just you and me and we can go somewhere far from here where no one will know my name. Please y/n.” He begged, “Please don’t leave me.”

You swallowed a sob, “You and I both know I’m not letting you throw away your life for me.” You reached your hand up to your necklace, unclasping it and letting it slide into your palm. You pressed the gem into Sirius’s hand, “You deserve better.” you whispered before you turned on your heel and began to run.

He truly did deserve better.

Part 2 ~♡~ Part 3

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

@chloe-geoghegan1

@songforhema

@wangmangagavroche

@evyiione

Masterlist

517 notes · View notes

alexwritesfiction · 4 years ago

Text

hear my heartbeat? (just focus on that)

words: 2370

genre: fluff, angst, mlm friendship

tw: a bit very sad hmm

a/n: i love this idk why. i really shouldnt be writing so much angst holy hell. please read it!

—

in which michael can't sleep because if nightmares and ashton helps him.

—

Michael hated sleeping. He couldn’t even think about it. Just the thought of closing his eyes sent shivers down his spine. He used to love sleep. Heck, that was all he did back when he could. But things change, especially for him they did. He started to play in a band. With his best friends, no less. And he couldn’t have been more elated.

He needed to sleep, he craved to. Every night he’d lay down, terrified but with a bit of hope that maybe, just maybe he’ll sleep. Maybe, he won’t wake up in the middle of the thrashing and sobbing.

All he could do was hope, and he was running out of it at an alarming rate. For the past couple of shows he’d looked horrendous, as if his eyes had been painted red. He didn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. Didn’t feel like himself anymore.

He kept feeling worse and worse every day. It only doubled whenever he was struck with the realization that he should be happy that he even made something out of his career.

Lord, if Ashton could hear him right now, he would’ve no doubt broken down. And Michael couldn’t afford that. He needed Ashton to stay strong the way he was. He lived vicariously off him.

He thought Ashton didn’t know. But then again, he was the band dad after all. It was his job to protect his family. Where the band is, home is.

Today they were going to be playing a show in Copenhagen. The venue they were staying at only had two rooms, which means they’d have to share one each.

Sure, they’d shared rooms before, even beds, all four of them. But, this time, it was different. This time, Michael was different.

This scared him further. If he didn’t sleep alone, they’d know. He couldn’t bear the thought of having a nightmare while one of his bandmates was sleeping beside him. He could picture the disappointment on their faces. They’d hate him for not being okay. He was supposed to be fine. Michael had always been the chill, happy go lucky guy. The soft one, but strong. Oh, how untrue it was.

He may have been fine from the outside, but he just about was erupting like a volcano inside. And the lava ruined him every day. It was like he was the sun: bright from the outside, but just a big ball of black in the inside.

“C’mon Mike, we got to go,” Calum’s voice bounced off his door and he knocked. Michael currently sat in his stage clothes, trying to calm himself down as he curled into a ball. There was some shuffling outside the door, and then it burst open.

He looked up to see Ashton barging in with a wild look on his face. His face fell as he saw Michael curled up. But Michael, ever the tension diffusing machine, stood up faster than light and flashed a bright smile at him.

“Let’s freaking rock the stage tonight!” Michael grinning, hopefully throwing Ashton off track. He couldn’t let him know. But he could see it in Ashton’s eyes that he did. The look was gone as fast as it came, Ashton returning a soft smile.

Michael smiled gratefully, walking out the door, only to be held back by his arm as Ashton pulled him back and crushed him into a hug.

Michael inhaled sharply. He felt safe in his arms. He could breathe a bit better, even though it might just be a casual hug. His arms tightened against Ashton and then slowly tried to pull away. He knew that if he stayed like this any longer, he’d cry. And tears were weak. They weren’t manly. Especially not just before a show.

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know,” Ashton whispered in Michael’s ears, his voice cracking a bit at the end. Michael trembled, recognizing the words he’d said to his band whenenver one of them had felt bad. Michael took it upon himself to cheer them up. If only he could do that to himself.

“Ashton,” Michael said. Because what else was there to say, really. Nothing made sense in Michael’s mind. Other than Ashton.

“Boys, we really do gotta go!” Luke yelled from somewhere.

The hug just ended like that. Ashton held Michael to an arm’s length, scanning his face for any sign of weakness. He knew Michael was sad, but one thing he didn’t know that Michael had one of the best poker faces. And right now, the most heart-breaking thing was that he wanted to die, but his smile said that he couldn’t be happier.

Ashton, finally satisfied, nodded at Michael, signalling at him to go on stage. Michael heaved a sigh of relief. He just merely got out of that one, he thought. If he gets paired with Ashton to sleep on the bed, he would be doomed. He could feel it.

But he couldn’t risk messing up on stage. So, he stood and thought of how rainbows were magical and how kittens could make his heart melt. And when he finally felt ready to go, he did. And he rocked it.

---

He’d messed up. Bad. One of the best shows and it was his fault it messed up. He ran down the stage and to the backstage, ripping the guitar off his chest. Hot tears streamed down his face as he fell near the washrooms. Sobs wracked his body. His bandmates came after him, yelling his name.

“Michael, it’s okay",” the hushed him, standing tall over him, and peering down with pity in their eys. Michael hated pity. He didn’t need pity. He needed to just let it out.

Next thing he knows, he’s being lifted and engulfed into a hug by his best friends. This only made him cry harder. He should’ve stopped, should’ve calmed down. But he just couldn’t. The emotions kept erupting, the lava kept erupting and Michael wasn’t in control of his poker face anymore.

He heard Ashton say that he’d be rooming with Michael tonight, and he was so caught up in just breaking down that he was powerless.

“Let’s go” Ashton stated, and Michael barely nodded, wiping his endless tears with his long sleeves. One could have said he looked adorable even while crying, and Michael would have laughed at them. Right now, he could just imagine Ashton giving him a lecture on how to get better or think positive. But that's never helped. Still, he was determined to not let Ashton down. He was the one person to have cared for Michael even in the darkest times, when Luke and Calum and Ashton rose to shine and Michael was overlooked.

They reached a door, and a man, possibly a bodyguard opened it up, eyeing Michael up and down like he couldn’t believe someone could be so wrecked. he had disgust in his eyes, and Ashton noticed it too.

“You’re fired. Go home” Ashton said in his taking-no-shit voice. The man spluttered before rapidly nodding his head and looking at Michael one last time before walking away.

“Stupid freaking humans,” Ashton muttered, and Michael couldn't have agreed more. He giggled in between his crying, and it sounded like a frog wailing due to his croaky throat.

And then they both were laughing uncontrollably at the atrocity of it all. Michael didn’t know how much more he could cry, so he started laughing, and Ashton joined in until they were in peals of laughter, just laying on the bed,

Ashton laid back down, head on the pillow, Michael using Ashton's stomach as a pillow, and it didn’t feel awkward. Not one bit.

They calmed down after a few minutes, the hazy tension returing. Michael braced himself as he heard Ashton take a deep breath. His stomach bloated beneath Michael and he chuckled.

“You can't sleep, can you, Michael?” Ashton asked, his voice reflecting that he already knew the answer. Michael just chose not to answer that question. Ashton already knew, there was no point in saying anything. Except one.

“Go on, tell me how I should get better,”

Michael hadn’t meant for the words to come out so bitter and he sat up straight as hurt flashed in Ashton's eyes. But he recovered quick. He knew Michael hadn’t meant those words.

“I- I'm sorry – I didn’t – I didn’t mean that-” Michael struggled to explain, his hands flailing in different direction, once again on the verge of crying.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Shh. It's all right, Michael.” Ashton sat up and rested Michaels hand to his sides.

“I know you,” he breathed, and with that, Michael confirmed his suspicions. He was shaken for a second. He did not know why. Why was he so affected? He already suspected Ashton knew.

Michael’s mind was a hurricane, and it was spinning faster and faster. He couldn’t think of what to say to Ashton, how to handle this situation. That got to him, his ability to diffuse tension suddenly not acting.

“I can't sleep, Ash,” he said brokenly. Ashton locked eyes with him like he wanted to tear down the mask in his eyes and pull Michael out of whatever hole he falling into before it was too late. Michael already thought it was too late, but Ashton believed it never was. He hoped it was true.

It all comes down to hope, Michael thought, everything always comes down to hope. He hated that word now, with every fibre of his being.

He wasn’t aware that tears had started falling again, he just stared like a pale dead body at Ashton.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” Ashton said suddenly, surprising Michael with his words. He didn’t believe Ashton. How could he not hate someone so…sad?

Michael truly was a contradiction of himself. He could believe Ashton had his back and that he hated him simultaneously. That’s how he worked.

“I love you, Michael,” Ashton whispered into the dead silence of the room. His hands reached out to Michael’s cheeks, wiping away the drops that showed his weakness. Michael couldn’t hold himself in, he flung his weight onto Ashton, almost attacking him. They both fell back onto the pillows and Michael held onto Ashton for dear life.

Ashton sighed, softly rubbing Michael’s back until his tears dried and he could pass out from exhaustion. But Michael couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, not when he’d cried so much.

Ashton had closed his eyes when Michael shifted his face from his stomach to look up at him. Ashton hummed in acknowledgement as if to say that he’s still there. Just…there. For him. And weirdly, that was all Michael needed to feel confident in telling him what he was about to.

“Hey, Ash?” he poked Ashton’s cheek repeatedly. Ashton didn’t respond, mocking him for being cute.

“Ash, Ash, Ash,” he kept chanting, finally cracking the curly haired boy up and making him pop one eye open. The tension that had been there had been dissipated as soon as cheeks were poked.

Michael had a soft smile on his face as he gazed up at Ashton. He blinked a few times, realizing they hadn’t even had the time to change their clothes. He still felt comfortable. Nothing other than Ashton could make him feel that way right now.

“Yeah?” Ashton murmured, raking his hands through Michael’s hair, which oddly felt like heaven.

“I can’t sleep,” he repeated his sentence from earlier, making Ashton confused. Why would he say that again?

“You already said-” he started, Michael cutting him off almost instantly.

“I have nightmares.” He stated. He felt Ashton inhale sharply at this. Ashton could never have imagined the extent of his acute insomnia. His hands stilled in Michael’s hair.

“God, Michael,” he stammered, “when were you gonna tell us?” Ashton asked, quietly as if the prospect of Michael keeping it to himself had hurt him. And it had, but he couldn’t focus on himself right now. this was about Michael, and he would be damned if he didn’t help him.

“Probably never,” Michael said truthfully, still lying on Ashton’s stomach. He grabbed Ashton’s hands from his hair and held them preciously between his own.

“There’s so many things I want to say to you right now, Mike. I just don’t know if I should say them now.” Ashton explained, and Michael understood perfectly. He’d known that feeling all too well.

“So, don’t,” Michael chuckled.

“Come here,” Ashton said in a voice that left no questions. Michael crawled up and lay his head on Ashton’s chest. He could feel a steady thumping beneath him and sighed and he put a hand over Ashton’s waist, cuddling up.

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.” Ashton said after a few seconds. And he did. He paid attention to ever heartbeat, the feeling calming him down. He felt like the volcano had erupted and now it was just calm, like a boulder had been lifted off his chest. He knew it would last, but he couldn’t bring himself to get away from Ashton. He believed then that Ashton was the one he could go to without hesitation.

Michael smiled, his eyes unconsciously fluttering close. Ashton peered down after a few minutes when he heard small snores. And he saw the best sight he could’ve seen, as Michael slept cuddled up to him. Slept because he felt safe. In his arms.

Ashton couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and he had to do a double take before finally letting a grin spread on his face. He adjusted the pair of them so that they held hands, Michael on his chest with his other arm on Ashton’s waist, and Ashton’s hand resting on Michael’s head. He fell asleep too, in a while, the thought of Michael still on his mind.

If someone had seen them now, they’d have seen a couple. Two boyfriends sleeping. But it went far deeper than that. They were best friends. Brothers, more accurately. And neither of them could care enough as to what anyone thought they were.

Because that’s what they were, in the simplest words.

Michael and Ashton.

read it full on ao3 here :)

taglist under the cut! leet me know to be added!

@petitpancakes @skinni-ciggis @bubblegum18 @cbfjdx @fckingpernico @5sos-taylor-b99 @dumbsouvenir @i-like-5sos @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-bi-disaster @a-completely-normal-writer @felonyfairy @cool-but-confused

#ao3 #my writing #my works #excerpts #excerpts by me #hear my heartbeat? (just focus on that)

29 notes · View notes

sirrriusblack · 5 years ago

Note

A prompt idea - oblivious James :)

Thank you for this prompt, it was so much fun to write! I hope you like it :)

* * *

“You guys are—Sirius, you’re—You’re dating?” James finally got the words out, like this was the biggest shock of his life. Sirius was laughing as he linked his hand with Remus’.

“Yes, James, We’re dating,” he confirmed looking at Remus with all the love he could muster. Peter chimed in from his bed.

“You really didn’t know?” he asked James, lying back and throwing part of a chocolate frog into his mouth. James spun on his heel to face Pete.

“You knew?” he asked, outraged. Peter shrugged.

“It wasn’t like they were being very secretive,” he said. Remus laughed at that because, really, they’d been trying to hide it. But for someone with such a big secret, Remus had never been very good at hiding his. James pushed his glasses up his face and ran a hand through his mess of hair.

“When on earth were you being obvious enough for me to realise this?” he asked. Sirius barked a laugh, sliding down to sit on his bed and dragging Moony over with him.

* * *

Sirius stood from his bed, stretching so his shirt was hitched on his jeans, leaving a strip of his stomach exposed. Remus fought back from biting his lip.

“Moony and I are going on a walk,” Sirius announced. This was the first Remus was hearing of this, but he decided not to argue, nodding instead. Pete rolled his eyes and James poked his head out of the curtains encasing his bed.

“Where to?” he asked, opening the curtains a little wider. Remus caught a glance of some parchment, cut into the shape of—a love heart? Sirius glanced to Remus quickly before he smirked.

“Room of requirement,” he blurted, rushing toward the door. Remus followed, amused, but James called out for them to stop.

“Why? Look, Sirius, if you’re planning my birthday party, you can tell me, you’re not very good at keeping secrets anyway,” he said. Sirius’ jaw fell open and Remus fought so hard to keep from laughing. If only he knew. Sirius shook his head and opened the door.

“Merlin, James, you could at least pretend not to know,” he muttered, thankful for the golden ticket James had just handed him. He walked out the door, motioning for Remus to follow. Remus looked at James and smiled.

“Don’t worry, mate, it’ll be the best birthday party you’ve ever had,” Remus promised, holding back a grin. James hummed, satisfied with himself, before he closed the curtains again. It took everything in him not to burst out laughing before he was out of hearing range of James.

“Now we have to plan him a party, nitwit,” Remus laughed into Sirius’ mouth. Padfoot grabbed both his hands and pulled him closer, kissing him softly and slowly.

“Worth it,” he whispered.

* * *

It was a Saturday night and there were three days until the full moon. Remus had a total of two moods during that time. He either needed all the space in the world, with no one touching, talking to or going near him. Or, like today, he needed affection. He craved affection like it was his life source. Generally, Remus and Sirius refrained from displaying any more affection than normal, so as not to raise suspicion, but at this point, Remus didn’t give a shit. James, Pete and Sirius were watching the map, trying to scout out any possible prank victims. Remus could barely stand up without fainting, so instead he let out an inhuman sound. The three boys looked over, concerned.

“Sirius,” he said. “Come and hug me.” It was a demand more than a request, and Sirius’ eyes widened. In under three seconds, the two boys had an entire conversation with just their eyes before Remus convinced Sirius to come over. Padfoot settled in next to him, climbing under the blanket and wrapping one arm over his stomach, essentially spooning him. James edged forward.

“Can—do you want us to come over too?” he asked, gesturing between him and Peter, the latter of whom snorted. Remus didn’t bother with niceties.

“No,” he said gruffly, and saw Sirius and Peter both try to stifle their smiles. James blinked.

“Well, why do you want Sirius to hug you?” James wasn’t generally a jealous person. He was just trying to help, to figure out what Remus needed. But just to be spiteful, Remus smirked slightly.

“You breathe too loudly,” he said simply, earning a whisper of a chuckle in his right ear. He shuddered against Sirius and smiled at James’ confusion. After a moment of what seemed to be an intense thought process, James shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he said, turning back to Pete and the map. Remus bit his lip to hold back his laugh and leaned further back into Sirius.

“How long do you reckon this is going to take?” he whispered, smiling. Sirius grinned back and moved his hand under Remus’ shirt, trailing patterns on his stomach underneath the blanket.

“Honestly, until we tell him, probably,” Sirius said.

* * *

They’d just finished potions, and Remus’ hair was messy, his tie was loose and his eyes kept fluttering shut in a way that made Sirius think some certainly unholy thoughts. He couldn’t help it when he grabbed Remus by that tie and pulled him into the first broom closet he saw. He couldn’t help it, physically couldn’t refrain from smashing his face into Remus’ and pinning up against the wall and Merlin, that tie and the doorknob rattled. Sirius and Remus broke apart so fast that both slammed into either side of the closet, their faces flushed and Remus’ fingertips red from when he’d been trying to unbuckle Sirius’ belt. The door finally swung open and James appeared, a wide grin on his face. The Marauders Map was in his hands.

“Guys, I have news and let me tell you, it is the best news you are ever going to hear,” he said, looking between the two of them. “Have you been running?” he asked, noting their heavy breathing flushed cheeks. Sirius cleared his throat after a moment.

“Uhm, yeah,” he said gruffly, licking his lips. Remus was still standing wide-eyed, back against the wall, staring dumbfoundedly at James. “Yeah, we were, um, running from McGonagall,” he lied, the best he could come up with. James jumped.

“Oh, is she here?” he asked, glancing around. “I didn’t see her on the map, I’m supposed to be in detention right now,” he said, edging closer. Remus, finally able to move, shrugged his shoulders.

“Maye she transformed?” he croaked out. James nodded solemnly.

“Right, probably,” he said, walking into the closet and closing the door. “Lumos,” he muttered. Sirius and Moony shared an amused look.

“What are you doing?” Remus asked James, standing straighter. James sat on the floor cross-legged.

“Hiding from McGonagall,” he explained. “Now, back to what I was going to tell you,” he started, opening the map. Remus glanced at Sirius, who shook his head and smiled, sitting down on the floor next to James.

* * *

“Nope. No way I didn’t realise,” James said, confused. When no one said anything, he fell down to the floor. “You really weren’t hiding from McGonagall?” he asked. Remus laughed.

“Nah, we passed her on the way out of the potions room, she was looking for you,” Remus said, smiling. James nodded like that made sense. “Merlin, I’m an idiot,” he said. No one laughed though. The atmosphere seemed to change as the most important question dawned on them. Sirius and Remus had never told Pete explicitly that they were dating, but from his lack of argument with it, they assumed he was okay with it. And they wanted to assume that James would be too. Sirius spoke, gripping Remus’ hand tighter.

“So do you… what do you think of it?” Sirius asked, shifting closer to the edge of the bed. Remus squeezed his hand. James ran a hand through his tangled hair and lied back on the floor.

“Quite frankly, I’m offended you would leave me for Moony, Sirius,” he said, grinning. Sirius reached out his leg and lightly kicked James, earning a nervous laugh from everyone. James sat up, his grin fading but his eyes still kind, open. “Really though, I’m happy for you guys,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine being anything but happy.” Remus couldn’t help the smile on his face, especially as he looked at Sirius, who was blinking quickly.

“Merlin, Prongs, you’re gonna make me cry,” he said, his smile probably wider than it had been even after Remus and Sirius’ first kiss. James winked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, hey Padfoot?” he said suggestively, standing up and motioning for Peter to follow. Remus glared at James, smirking.

“Oi, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” Remus joked, but Sirius’ hand squeezed his.

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered. “It is.”

James ruined the moment when he grabbed Peter and jumped onto the two boys, yelling, “cuddle pile!” Though if Remus and Sirius were being honest, James had only made the moment 100 times better.

“Still can’t believe I’m that stupid,” James said, his words muffled underneath Peter’s arm.

“I can,” all three of them remarked.

#prompts #asks #thank youuuuu #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders era #marauders #marauders era fanfiction #my writing #:)

135 notes · View notes