#plot twist the air mattress was fine the whole time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gnocchighoul · 4 years

Text

Big Spoon Bribery

Summary: This is the second part of this drabble!

Reader is gender neutral :D

Warnings: Mild angst and allusions to spicy times. This is mostly fluff.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: thank you @beelzebubs1trulove for the title 😘

AO3 portal

You have three missions. In order of importance, they are—

Acquire the coveted position of big spoon.

Help Lucifer and Belphie make amends.

Don’t die trying

Alright, perhaps maybe that last one should be higher up. But you just really really really want to be the big spoon. So badly. Like, you put together a gift basket to bribe Lucifer badly. In your totally humble and neutral opinion it’s a stunning work of art—lacquered black wicker basket three times the size of your head, stuffed to the brim with Princess’s Poison Apples, Coffee of Melancholy beans, some incredibly luxurious stationery, black booty shorts with ‘Enemy of The State’ in bold red print across the butt, and a bottle of Demonus, all surrounding the pièce de résistance: a voodoo doll of Mammon.

Oh yes. Tonight is going to go incredibly well.

The plan is simple and straightforward—foolproof. Suffocate Lucifer with presents and love, and then, when he's in a good mood and not expecting it: beg.

You reckon the odds are 51 to 49, in your favor. You’ve risked your life on worse—your short history in the Devildom is a glowing testament to that. It’s good enough. You’ve already cast the die. Now all that's left is to see where it lands.

To increase your chances of success, you’ve pulled out all of the stops for this momentous occasion. No expense was spared in making Lucifer’s room as clichély romantic as possible. The fireplace? Lit. Pillows? Fluffed. Lights? Dimmed. Rose petals? Scattered. Tastefully.

Even the big, (still) nameless skeleton—the guardian perched ominously in the corner of the room—is in on your shenanigans romantic gesture. The pair of black sunshades you had so skillfully taped onto it’s face have been replaced by an even better pair—oversized, bubblegum pink and heart shaped. Courtesy of your wardrobe, of course.

Now, you wait.

You throw one last fistful of crimson rose petals at the hardwood, then dive face-first into bed. In the distance, thunder rumbles. Though that might have been Beelzebub’s stomach. No way to know for sure.

This is fine. Totally fine. You’re an expert at being patient. A master, even. If RAD gave out degrees for being patient—well, you wouldn’t have one, because you’d have to wait for it. But it would be fine because you’re just so good at that. Waiting.

Patience. Paaaaaatience. Pay-shens. It’s fine. Yep. Nothing awful about this at all. You’re just going to wait.

And wait.

And keep waiting because apparently he’s working late again and totally disrupting your amorous plans, god dammit.

You toss your D.D.D aside and turn your attention out the windows, to the forest. The night sky is darker than usual—the moon swallowed whole by a maw of angry storm clouds, the darkest you’ve ever seen. The center of it crackles with purple lightning, splintering down to lash teasingly at the treetops.

You shift—adjust your mess of pillows and blankets, so that your head is at the foot of the bed. It’s not like you have anything better to do (not until Lucifer gets here) so you might as well watch the storm.

“Hm? What’s all this?”

You wake with a start—desperately try to pretend that you weren’t just drooling into the pillows. Lucifer is stood over your gift, examining it with shining eyes and upturned lips.

“Surprise!”

He’s already in pajamas. He totally saw you knocked out.

Lucifer tilts his head—lifts the voodoo doll and turns it over in his hands. Pokes at it’s plush belly with an index finger. Jabs a finger into its cheek, right next to the black-stitch smile. Holds it upside down by one foot. Your highly advanced Lucifer-reading skills tell you that he’s pleased. Poor Mammon. You should probably send him an apology gift basket.

Lucifer shakes mini-Mammon like a maraca. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion! I just felt like spoiling you.”

“You don’t say?” He drops the mini-Mammon back into the basket and makes his way to the bed—the mattress dips as he moves to hover over you, hands coming up to cage your head, one knee planted firmly between your thighs. Mirth dances between the red and black of his irises. “I should return the favor.”

He dips down to kiss you and your lightning fast reflexes kick in—your hand snaps up to cover his mouth. You feel his lips turn down into a scowl and you grin, shifting some beneath him.

“Chin up, buttercup. Don’t look so grumpy, I have something else in mind.” You waggle your eyebrows, and now he just looks confused—as much as he can with you pawing at his mouth—but perhaps a bit more hopeful. Sweetly, you whisper, “There’s something I want.”

He glances at the basket, eyes narrowing suspiciously, and knocks your hand away. He can’t help but wonder—why are you being so cryptic? What in the realms are you plotting now?

A little apprehensively, he says, “Is that right? What do you—”

“I’m so glad you asked! Lemme be the big spoon.”

“... That’s it? ”

You stare him down with the biggest, saddest, most heart-wrenching puppy eyes that you can muster. “Pretty please with a poison apple on top?”

He stares at you, disbelieving. Quirks a single neat brow and—oh. There it is. That all too familiar look in your eyes. Searing determination that burns brighter than the flames of Hell. Fierce and vivid. You’re entirely serious.

“That’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

“...You went through the trouble of making all that—” he gestures loosely at the basket. “Just because you want to be the ‘big spoon ’?”

You pat his cheek with a dopey grin. “No trouble at all when it’s for you.”

Lucifer ducks his head. Pink stains his cheeks. “You’re a menace.”

"Only for you, my love~"

You’re on cloud nine. Over the moon and stars. Walking on air.

At long last, you are the Big Spoon.

You understand now, why he’s so insistent on being the one to hold you. This is even better than the occasions when he’ll angrily throw himself into your lap and demand to be pet, which is saying something because those are some damn good times.

But this? This takes the cake.

You’ve got one arm snaked around his chest, the other up and playing with his hair. You could spend an eternity like this—content to listen to the rain pelting against the windows, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

There’s a small scar, just hidden by his hairline. You wonder if he even knows about it. If he remembers how it got there. It’s more recent—not as faded as the jagged twin scars carved into the center of his back, hugging his spine.

There are some things—very few things—that you don’t bring up. Lucifer’s missing set of wings is one of them. You have your theories, of course—you’ve seen the frayed raven feathers that Satan brandishes around his neck, not dissimilar to a trophy. You know of how he was created—of the bond that chains him to Lucifer. You know.

But, there are some things better left unsaid.

A proverb that you are absolutely about to contradict.

You have a mission, after all.

Slowly, stealthily, you lift a leg, hooking it around his hip so that he can’t escape.

“What are you doing?”

Okay, so maybe not as stealthy as you thought. He knows something is up, so you tighten your hold on him, just in case he flips when you start to pick at his feelings like a scab.

His apprehension, combined with how comfortable you are almost makes you want to throw in the towel. You could. Probably even should. This has gone above and beyond your expectations—your stomach twists at the thought of souring such a perfectly sweet moment.

Alas, your family is in turmoil, and you are but a humble knight in shining pajamas. Literally—silk is just so shiny.

Unless you want to end up with a face blasted full of feathers, you need to approach this carefully. You’re in the danger zone now—the risk is high, but so is the reward.

“Hey, Lu?”

“Hm?”

Carefully, now.

“Why did you and Belphie fight?”

You’re not sure how he manages it, what with your intense octopus hold on him, but with infuriating ease, he manages to twist around in your grasp so that he’s facing you. His upper lip curls into the slightest snarl, revealing sharp incisors.

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“Because you… said so.” your tone is flat—offended. Heat ignites between the rungs of your ribcage, swirling around your lungs, sudden and consuming. It’s not the good kind.

He glares down his nose. You can see yourself in the black of his eyes—see the pinched furrow of your brow, the acidic bite of your own gaze. “Yes. Because it’s none of your business.”

“None of my business? You’re both my family and therefore both my business. And even if you won’t tell me, I still know that you shifted first. Usually the one who throws the first punch is the one that also needs to apologize first, y’know?”

“I see.” Lucifer’s eyes narrow—harden. He’s gone tense in your hold. You briefly consider squeezing him like a stress ball. “You’re taking his side.”

“Taking his—I don’t even know what the argument was about!”

Lucifer says nothing. You stare. Silence.

Seriously? Is that what he thinks you’re doing?

“Lucifer.”

He turns his head away.

“Lucifer. ”

He doesn’t look at you. Won’t look.

When Lucifer gets like this, you can’t afford to be tentative and gentle. He needs force—needs to be handled. Just a bit.

So, you take matters into your own hands. Literally.

You smush his cheeks between your palms and hold him in place, waiting for him to turn that bitter gaze upon your own. He looks like an angry goldfish—the handsomest goldfish that you’ve ever had the pleasure of spooning. Also, the only one.

“I’m on your side, Lucifer.” With a feather light touch, you brush your thumb across his cheekbone. “That’s why I think you should make the effort to just talk to him. You’re happier when your whole family is getting along.”

Your observation is right. It’s a truth that’s still too tender, too raw, but, it’s the truth. You know it. He knows it.

So, naturally, he escapes your grip and tries to flee.

“NO!” You swing a leg over his hips and shove him back into the mattress. He goes down hard, and before he can escape, you perch your happy little ass right on his chest, locking his arms against his sides with your thighs and praying to Diavolo that he won’t hurl you across the room at mach 5.

He doesn’t splatter you against the wall, but he does smile for a split second. Somehow that’s scarier.

Your heart chisels away at your ribcage now, and somewhere, in the recesses of your mind, you wonder if he can hear it.

“Look.” you ease the death-grip of your legs—nervously sweep a piece of lint off his shirt. “When we started dating, we made a deal. Remember? ‘No holding back’. Sealed with a pinky promise and everything. You and I are a team. A pair. Two peas in a pod. The heart and the brain! Tui and La. Co-captains! Pilot and co-pilo—”

Another twitch of the lips. “I get it.”

You nod sagely. “You get it. You don’t have to tell me the details of what happened if you don’t want to. I mean, it’d be nice because you know how incredibly nosey I am—stop nodding—but I’m willing to compromise if you at least tell me how you’re feeling. I want to know where your head is at. I know you’ve done this by yourself for thousands of years, but it’s not just you anymore, okay? I’m here, now. You’re stuck with me and I’m going to get that through your thick ass demon skull even if I have to—”

“Okay, okay, okay.” With a heaving sigh, Lucifer sits up, knocking you into his lap like a turtle on its shell. Before you can squirm away, he pulls you up—maneuvers you both so that his back is against the headboard, you straddling his lap. Eye to eye. “I take it you wrote all that down before I got here.”

You relax into him—loop your arms around his neck. His hands settle on your waist. “Yep. Two drafts. The other version had a lot more cussing. Wanna read it?”

He chuckles—presses a kiss to your temple and smiles there. “Of course.”

You two stay that way for a bit—content to sit in the silence and listen to the soft pattering of rain on the windows. You’re 99.99% sure he still isn’t going to talk about this, but you think that you got through to him. Somewhat.

Baby steps.

“Promise you’ll at least try to talk to him?”

Lucifer sighs, a bit dramatically. “I suppose so.”

You lean back to give him a look that says Really?

“I mean it. I will.”

You hold up your pinky finger and he stares at it, looking absolutely scandalized by your youthful ways. You tap it against his chest once, twice. Nothing. You tug the hair at the nape of his neck, and waggle your pinky. “C’mon, handsome. Make a pact with me.”

He rolls his eyes, but wraps his own firmly around yours, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. When you try to drop your hand, he threads his fingers through yours, and tucks you back into his chest.

“So…” your voice is small, muffled against his neck. “Can I still be the big spoon tonight?”

((Thank you for reading! Didya catch the atla reference? :D I just couldn’t help myself~ I’ve got two braincells rn—one of them is for obey me and the other is for atla. Dual wielding hyperfixations at it's finest. likes and comments are v appreciated 🥺👉👈 ))

His laugh is the second sweetest thing you’ve ever heard—the first being the totally betrayed gasp that bursts past his lips when you blow a big fat raspberry into his neck.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me drabble #obey me fanfic #obey me! shall we date?#gnocchiwrites #obey me headcanons

775 notes · View notes

little-mad · 3 years

Text

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 7

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

It was evident to Rael that the man called Kaydin was warring with himself on what to do. Not only did he desperately want to make off with the human that could potentially make him wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, but he also seemed unwilling to back down from a challenge. He was no doubt prideful, something Rael could actually relate to. However, realistically Kaydin stood no chance of success. Without his partner as backup, he was unlikely to be able to even make it out of the woods.

Rael was banking on Kaydin being at least reasonable enough to know when he was beaten, because while Rael was fairly confident he outmatched the ruffian, he worried what a scuffle would mean for Gavin Stone. The human was so fragile, and if even non-violent movements from alteons could bring him harm, Rael could only imagine what could happen if he ended up in the middle of a fight.

As irritating as Gavin had been, and as much as Rael didn’t care for humans, he still didn’t want to see the tiny man injured. He was no sadist. Besides, the Emperor would likely be more than a little upset if he found out the human got damaged during transit. Gavin was a prisoner, but his punishment, whatever it may end up being, was to be decided upon and carried out by the order of the Emperor himself. Until such a time, Rael’s job was to keep the human safe and alive.

Kaydin narrowed his eyes. “What if I told you, you either let me leave or I kill the human?”

A flash of rage nearly made Rael reach for his dagger, but he just barely held himself back. This brigand, this scum, really had the audacity to threaten to kill Gavin? And how stupid was he? Killing Gavin would not only remove his leverage, but also the source of wealth he craved. “The only way I am letting you go, is if you return that human to me,” Rael informed Kaydin darkly.

So long as Kaydin used logic to make his decision, he would do exactly as Rael wanted. However, if he allowed pride and anger to rule him, Rael would be forced to take aggressive action. “A quick stab to the chest...and then I try to grab Gavin before he hits the ground,” he thought as he tried to plot out his plan of attack. It was far from ideal, but it was the best contingency plan Rael could come up with in the moment.

A long pause stretched out between the two alteons. Rael braced himself, ready to grab his dagger at any second. Kaydin wore a bitter scowl on his face, his hands gripping Gavin’s cage so tight it almost appeared as though he’d bend the iron bars. Finally, Kaydin spoke. “Fine, but just to make sure you don’t try to nab me…” In the blink of an eye, the dark haired thug tossed the cage up into the air.

Kaydin took off, but Rael didn’t see which direction he went, nor did he care. His focus was entirely centered on Gavin, who was trapped inside a cage that was quickly plummeting towards the hard ground.

What was only a few feet to Rael, was a deadly height to the human. If Rael didn’t catch the cage, Gavin would undoubtedly die on impact. The catch had to be precise, and it had to be as gentle as possible to prevent serious injury. Any failure on Rael's part could prove catastrophic to Gavin.

Reaching out both hands, Rael watched almost as if in slow motion as the cage fell right into the perfect position. With all the deftness years of swordplay and archery practice afforded him, he closed his right hand around the side of the iron enclosure while his left hand grabbed it from below. As soon as the cage was within his grasp, Rael moved his hands downward a bit in order to soften the blow and prevent an abrupt stop that could be injurious to the human inside.

Carefully, Rael lifted Gavin towards his face. He peered inside at the crumpled form of the small man, trying to gauge his physical state. Immediately, he noted the fact that Gavin’s chest could be seen rising and falling as a result of fast paced panting. There was no blood, and from what Rael could see, no limbs twisted or bent in a manner they weren’t meant to be. All good signs, but he would have to ask Gavin himself to be certain.

Gavin liked roller coasters just fine, going up and down hills while in a little car? That was great, he’d do it over and over again. What Gavin did not like were those big drop tower rides they always had at amusement parks. He really didn’t get what was so fun about having your stomach thrown into your throat. Ever since he first rode the Power Tower at Cedar Point when he was twelve, he had sworn off those types of rides forever.

Well, you know what’s even worse than a drop tower? Falling down from an incredible height while trapped in a cage, with no seatbelt, and nothing to guarantee you wouldn’t collide violently with the ground below.

There hadn’t even been a chance for Gavin to fully contemplate the possibility of his own demise during his terrifying aerial trip. While he was flying through the air, his mind had gone completely blank--it was nothing but an abyss of blind fear.

And then the next thing he knew, a giant hand came into view. Everything came to a steady, but still plenty disorienting stop. Gavin fell into a heap on the floor of his cage, his whole body throbbing with a deep ache. “I officially hate this dimension,” he moaned internally.

For several long moments Gavin did nothing but lay there. He didn’t feel like moving even a little bit, nor did he want to address the giant he could feel staring in at him.

Despite the fact that he had been pretty peeved with the guy previously, Gavin wasn’t upset with Rael at the moment. He had just effectively saved his life by catching him. Plus, Gavin was too busy directing his anger at the asshole that had thrown him in the first place to have any leftover for Rael. That being said, Gavin just didn’t feel like he had the energy for a conversation with the alteon at the moment. Believe it or not, a near death experience kind of took it out of you.

There was a stretch of silence where Gavin just remained laying on the floor of the cage, and Rael looked in at him without saying a word. Sadly, the peace couldn’t go on forever, and for once, Gavin wasn’t the one to disrupt it. “How are you feeling?” came Rael’s voice in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

With a low sigh, Gavin forced himself into a sitting position. He raised his gaze to meet Rael’s, taking note of the intense look in those vibrant teal eyes. “Pretty shitty, but I don’t think anything’s broken,” Gavin replied, glancing down to assess himself for any injuries. Despite the fact that his whole body was radiating with a deep ache, it seemed as though Gavin would get away with nothing worse than some nasty bruises.

“Do you think you can walk?” Rael inquired seriously. If Gavin didn’t know any better, he might almost think the guy sounded genuinely concerned.

Looking down at his legs, Gavin noted that his lower half seemed to ache slightly less than the rest of his body. It seemed as though his arms and torso had taken a brunt of the damage. “Yeah, I think so. Wh--” Before he could finish his sentence one of Rael’s hands shifted to the front of the cage. Long fingers took hold of the latch on the cage, and a moment later the door had been swung open.

Gavin blinked in surprise at the open door and the upturned palm that was placed just in front of it. “What are you doing?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

“Staying in the cage during the remainder of our journey will exacerbate your pain,” Rael stated, and Gavin had to agree. Being constantly bumped by the movement of the alteon’s leg had been standable before, but now that he was peppered in developing bruises, Gavin expected the experience would be quite miserable. However, the idea of placing himself in Rael’s hands was even less appealing. His past experiences with the appendages had been less than pleasant.

“I think I’ll take my chances,” Gavin responded, eying the giant hand nervously as if it would attack him at any moment.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Despite Rael’s impatient tone of voice, Gavin could have sworn he caught a hint of what almost looked like a regretful look in the alteon’s eyes. “I’ll be careful. I am not entirely heartless, contrary to what you might assume.”

While Rael had certainly left less than a wonderful impression on Gavin so far, he actually didn’t believe the giant man was evil. He was a jerk, obviously, but for whatever reason Gavin still chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even if Rael had only saved him for the sake of his job, Gavin found it difficult to think too negatively about someone who had just prevented him from falling into an early grave.

So, if Gavin was going to give Rael a second chance (or maybe it was a third chance at this point), then he’d have to make himself willingly walk out onto the alteon’s waiting palm. “Just gotta think of it as a nice comfy mattress that can’t, and definitely won’t, wrap around me and crush me.”

Using the bars of his cage as support, Gavin slowly pulled himself up to his feet. His legs still felt a little bit like jelly after the near-death experience, so he waited a moment to gather himself before taking his first step forward.

The last time Rael had held Gavin, it had been when he snatched him up into a fist. This time however, Gavin was walking on of his own accord. The sensation of miniature feet stepping onto his palm sent a shiver across his skin. It honestly tickled a little bit, but of course, Rael would never allow himself to outwardly show a reaction. So instead, he just watched with wide eyes as the little man anxiously situated himself.

At first, Gavin seemed to have no idea what to do once he was on Rael’s hand. He appeared to be on edge, and tensed up anytime one of Rael’s fingers twitched involuntarily--which was probably to be expected considering...past events. Finally, the human just plopped down in the center of the palm, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands fiddling nervously in his lap.

It was still so surreal for Rael, holding an entire person in his hand. The slightest movement on his part could have a huge effect on the human, especially considering it was an injured human. Gavin may not have any serious wounds, but he was still obviously in pain. After the treatment he’d been subjected to by Kaydin, it was no surprise. Therefore, Rael's previous attitude of uncaring indifference in regards to the human’s comfort, would have to be...adjusted.

While keeping the hand holding Gavin as still as possible, Rael used his other hand to re-attach the now empty cage to his belt. Once that was done, he turned his focus to the tiny person sitting on his palm. “I’m going to move my hand, so brace yourself,” he warned Gavin, who offered a weak nod in response.

With slow and careful movements, Rael shifted the hand holding Gavin so that it was held up against his chest. The benefit of this position was that his chest created a living wall on one side of the human. His freehand would serve as a second barrier on the opposite side of the hand on which Gavin resided. The goal was to limit the amount of places the small man could potentially fall off of, as well as keep him hidden from view in case of any more run-ins with other alteons.

“I kinda feel like you’re babying me here,” Gavin called up, tilting his neck back to meet Rael’s gaze.

Suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he was practically cradling a human, Rael felt his face begin to heat up. How the hell had it come to this? He didn’t like humans--he didn’t necessarily despise them, but he certainly never before would have imagined himself holding one in such a gentle manner. Rael groaned internally. “This assignment is beginning to mess with my head.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael

45 notes · View notes

descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

Multipart Commission work - Harry Hook x reader - A Prince Behind the Pirate - part 12 - letters and conspiracies

@musicarose

“more and more people are rallying for the children of the isle to join us in Auradon” the council was meeting secretly, talking about the recent events of the people of Auradon calling for the children of the isle to be removed and relocated to Auradon“all thanks to your granddaughter Leah”

The ex-queen crossed her arms, glaring at her fellow council members. “it is not my fault that my granddaughters….soulmate” she spat “is a filthy isle pirate boy, trust me, I have plans to get him out of her head, the first being an arranged marriage between Ariels son and (y/n)”

“now how are you going to do that?” Luis scoffed, twirling his white mustache between his fingers “while it's not common knowledge that the pirate and your granddaughter are soulmates if it gets out the whole kingdom would riot for her, you know the consequences of forcefully pulling two souls apart”

Leah waved the old king off, he was a sucker for love and allowed his son to marry a peasant dish maid, he would be no use in the planning of all this. “yes yes whatever, I cannot have a filthy pirate soil my family line, (y/n) needs a prince, one with land and claim to his throne. Jordan will be just fine, with the claim to Atlantica”

The council nodded along with her standing as the “meeting” was dismissed, Luis frowned to himself, he just couldn't condone this behavior…he needed to tell someone.

You sighed, leaning back in your desk chair, blowing your hair out of your eyes. Another stressful day of dealing with Isle affairs, from the food barges to the assholes on the council denying yet ANOTHER transfer request of another 4 VKs.

It had been a long battle but after your stories, along with the cour four and Ben backing you up and their own stories, the people of Auradon were rallying for the removal of the vks from the Isle.

Cinderella herself was voting for the removal of the vks, along with her step-sister Anastasia. Which lead to more people to come on your side, if someone who was raised by a villain was rallying for the vks how bad could they be?

If only your grandmother wasn’t such a bitch and convincing the other council members to keep denying the VK transfer plan. You rolled your neck and got back to business, finishing up another document on the medical barge that was being sent to the isle soon.

A few minutes later a knock sounded at your door, and you turned to look at it for a moment before going back to your work “it's open!”

Audrey stepped through a moment later, a bowl of fruit in her hands “snack break!” you sighed and looked at her, smiling.

“but-“ she tossed a grape at you, pouting.

“no buts, now eat the snackies” you laughed and held your hand out for the bowl, she gave it and a fork to you, spinning around and landing on your bed “sooooo, hows work?”

“pretty good” you shrugged, a mouthful of watermelon “just finishing on a medical document before working on the next barge for fabric”

Audrey hummed and nodded to herself, picking up the tossed leather jacket on your bed, thumbing over the stitched silver hook. “any progress on Harry?”

“no” you groaned, letting your head fall “the council STILL won't approve the plan” Audrey pursed her lips, sucking on her teeth.

“….im really glad I've grown away from grammie, I used to think she knew everything but….shes just-“

“close-minded and thinks about what's best for her and HER line instead of what's best for us and what WE want?” Audrey pointed at you and nodded.

“exactly, shes so demanding and-and god, I wish mom and dad had more of an opportunity to raise us, I never realized that I hardly had a relationship with mom until I actually tried to hang out with her instead of grammie”

You shook your head, it had been hard for Audrey and mom to get their “proper” relationship going, even months later their relationship was slightly strained.

Thankfully for you, you had….not trusted your grandmother since you were a kid and she had grimaced and called a same-sex couple walking down the street “rule-breaking f*gs”…yeah you decided she wasn’t a good role model and mentally disowned her.

When you had told Audrey about it, right around the times she separated herself from Grammie, she had a look of horror on her face, being apart of the LGBTQ community herself, she took it to heart.

To sum it up, you and Audrey had basically disowned your grandmother and decided you deserved better than a homophobic, controlling bitch of a grandmother.

She still tried to control the two of you but 1) since you met Harry and decided that hey, your soulmates a pirate, let's just go crazy and 2) Audrey was done with her bullcrap.

Your dad had almost died from laughing as you both hid from your grandma one day while she visited. But managed to hide it from her as she asked about you, while your grandpa found you and snuck you some food

Your grandfather was always your favorite out of the two grandparents, he never pressured you, never forced his beliefs on you, and just let you be yourselves….and also took you to get junk food.

Big difference from your grandmother, but anyway- back to the main plot.

You swallowed the last bit of fruit and placed it on your desk, going back to working on the medical document.

“shoot I gotta get going, Jane wanted to go get brunch at Tiana's place, see you later!” Audrey jumped up from the bed, ran over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before she bolted from your room to find jane. “have fun” you muttered distracted, typing out your last paragraph, and hitting the save button, opening up the fabric document next.

Time for another three hours at your desk, just the life of the isle ambassador.

Harry grunted as he set a large barrel full of fish on the ships main deck, groaning as he stood and stretched out his aching muscles. He shook his head, feeling beads of sweat dripping from his scalp and down his forehead. “gods” he muttered “the one day I do work and its gotta be so hot” he slicked back his sweat-soaked hair and turned around, heading back to the barge to collect more food for the crew.

As he walked down the gangplank, his oh so precious little sister CJ came trotting towards him, a white envelope in her hand, waving it about in the air “oh Harry~ a letter from your girlfirend~” she called, skipping over to him and holding out the letter.

Harry tried to grab it but CJ twisted and pulled away the letter, sticking her tongue out playfully “you have to be quick-hey!” Harry picked CJ up and plucked the letter from her hand, dropping her back on her feet, snickering as she hit his shoulder.

“and yeh hav’ ta be quicker than tha’” Harry mocked, ripping open the envelope and taking out the letter, grunting as CJ jumped onto him and climbed to look over his shoulder “yeh rotten little monkey” he muttered, opening the letter and grinning slightly as (y/n)s neat handwriting appeared

-hi Harry~ just wanted to write a quick letter to you. The next barges are medical and fabric and should be at the isle within the week, I need Uma to write up any needs on the blank paper I put along with this letter and give it back to the courier that will be retrieving the returns in three days.

I miss you every day and even though we see each other in our dreams, I still wish I could see you.

-until next time, love- (y/n)

Harry sighed, smiling softly at the letter, thumbing over (y/n)s signature. “gag” CJ stuck her tongue out and walked away “im gonna go hang out with someone who isn’t being a love guppy” Harry rolled his eyes and closed the letter, shoving it in his pocket and taking the envelope and blank paper to Uma

You sighed, finally finishing the last document and sending it to the manager of isle affairs. You spun around in your chair and stood, walking to your bed and flopping down onto the mattress.

“uhhhg” you groaned, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your head, ready to sleep for 10 hours after your grueling day of filling out paperwork.

Your phone sounded off, and you groaned loudly and sat up, your jacket falling to your lap, leaning over you grabbed your phone from the charger, clicking on the message bubble.

…

….

“WHAT!???!”

-end of part 12-

we are all disappointed at the wedding “short” so heres a x reader for your trouble

permtaglist

@queer-cosette

@sephiralorange

@lunanight2012

@random-thoughts-003

@amorathegamingkitsune

@rintheemolion

@daughter-of-the-stars11

taglist that i forgot to do when originally posted to here!

@thecaptainsgingersnap

@thebookwormfairy

#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #commission #writing commission #prince behind the pirate

85 notes · View notes

darlingpetao3 · 5 years

Text

Escape & Release (EoWells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: After vowing to return for their next showdown, Eobard Thawne flees Barry Allen in the year 2049. He’s free - free at last from that God-awful Iron Heights prison. So what does he plan to do first with his newfound freedom?

A/N: Anyone else still thirsty from the latest episode? Well, here’s another Eo fic (a request, to boot!) to keep us going. PWP for you and me!

Tag List: @blogforhoes

After vowing to return for their next showdown, Eobard Thawne flees Barry Allen in the year 2049. He’s free - free at last from that God-awful Iron Heights prison. So what does he plan to do first with his newfound freedom?

The Reverse Flash has a couple of ideas…

First and foremost, the riskiest, most pressing matter involves visiting the person he couldn’t help but fall in love with all those years ago. Someone who never left his mind. Who got him through the darkest of nights. His ‘Juliet.’

You.

Letting the moments of the past thirty years literally blur by him, Eobard runs like the madman he truly is through his Negative Speedforce. His eyes glow a fiercely bright red in his tunnel vision.

There. This time. This will do just fine.

The villain comes to a stop and stalks outside your Central City apartment you kept in May of 2019. A quick sprint up to your balcony brings him to peer into your living area. You’re currently in the kitchen, rounding the corner. You look up in the dim evening light to discover the figure outside your window.

You scream out of shock, but in a split second, a leather-gloved hand appears to cover your mouth to muffle your surprise. You finally register who it is, but how can this be…?

“Eommmffff!” you exclaim behind his hand. He removes it and subsequently, his bright yellow cowl, messing up his hair in the process.

“Hello, my dear,” Eobard greets you with a twisted smile (something you haven’t seen in a long time). “It’s felt like centuries since I’ve seen you last.”

You can’t believe this! Barry and Nora and the rest of the gang have only just left to the future to try to stop Eobard!

“What are you doing here?!” you ask breathlessly while running your hands down his body, as if touching him will assure you he’s real and here. “How…?”

“I came to see you, of course.” Eobard runs the reverse side of his fingers down your cheek. “I’ve been locked up for years in the future. A wretched place, and you were one of only two things I thought about while I was in that hell hole.”

“...What was the other thing?”

“Oh, you know, the usual plotting revenge of the Flash.”

You laugh. “Naturally.” There’s a brief pause, in which you break from being mesmerized at having this man here in front of you and begin to think semi-rationally. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll find you here?” you ask. “Team Flash will be back from the future any time now, won’t they? If they’re not already back. Remember a few years ago how they reacted when they found out about… us?”

“Then we better make the most of our time.”

As much as you were hoping to keep Eobard safe from your friends, you really really like the sound of that.

“And how do you suggest we do that?” you say playfully, only to shortly find yourself pinned against the wall adjacent to your bedroom. You pull his face toward yours and kiss him after saying, “A little to the left,” in regards to reaching the door. With a strategic jump, you straddle his hips, locking your legs tight around him. The deep and dark sound his throat makes drives you to attack his mouth.

It’s been so long.

He speeds you into your bedroom to throw you down onto the bed with enough force that you bounce on the mattress. On the one hand, it’s sexy as all hell, but you also let out a squeal like a kid in a bouncy house.

The Speedster has you naked faster than the blink of the average eye.

You always loved that neat little trick.

“I’ve thought about every possible thing I’ve wanted to do to you in there,” he says while hovering over you, offending you to the nth degree by still wearing the suit while you’re completely exposed. Eobard Thawne never did care for fairness.

“Yeah? Care to elaborate?”

Eobard hums in your ear, then begins to nip and kiss around the area. You are a puddle under him. He hasn’t even dealt with your beckoning need down below, and yet you’ve found nirvana with every little thing he does to you.

He smells of sweat, arousal, and a lingering lust for vengeance from his earlier fight. It’s enough to send you into a state of frenzy - needing desperately to get him out of that damned suit. Yes, it outlined every muscle on his body to prove that he was essentially a Speed-Sex-God, but it currently had no right to be hugging him tightly anymore. You’ve missed his body, how he feels against you, over you, inside you. And you need him now.

“Ditch the suit, tough guy,” you order him. “Right now.”

Eobard smirks. “Someone’s gotten a little more feisty since I’ve been gone.”

You lower your hand down between your legs to play with yourself, looking him straight in the eyes. A taunt. An invitation. A beckoning.

“A little naughtier too, it seems. I have half a mind to just watch you do that until you come.”

“We both know there’s no time for that,” you point out and press two fingers to his lips. The villain sucks on your fingers like they’re the treat he’d been denied for far too long.

“You’re right, as ever.”

At that, he phases out of his yellow Speedster suit. It drops to the floor, leaving him gloriously naked and ripped just like you remember. Possibly even more impressive, it’s a toss-up, really. You also haven’t missed noticing the small amount of peppering grey in his hair. Time was kind to him, goddamn...

You crawl backward on your bed, and

Eobard follows. His arms flex when he pins your hands above your head and into the mattress.

“How do you want it?” he asks.

“Fast and hard.”

“Ah, my specialty.”

You chuckle under him, but Eobard swallows the sound with another kiss - firm and needy and owning. While he’s distracted by your lips, he lets his hands wander back down to knead your breasts. You moan and arch your back at his greedy touch. The villain looks like he’s playing his favourite instrument and is wholly pleased by the music he produces.

He’s about to make a whole lot more “music” with you as he lines himself up in preparation to enter you. For a Speedster, he sure does take his time. Deliberately, you’re sure of it.

But at last, the Reverse Flash finds his place deep inside you, where he belongs. You suck in the air and hold it in your lungs, your head tipping back a little more with each bit further he delves within your heat.

“You feel just like how I remember…” Eobard says, which quickly tapers off into a hungry groan. You need more of that. More of those sounds. It’s been years since you’d heard them, and you almost had forgotten entirely. You whine and meet his giving thrusts in response.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let your heels dig into the small of his back above you, and use your thigh muscles to push him closer to you. You desperately want the full weight of his body on you - if he crushed you, it would be a blessing.

He starts to pick up the pace a little bit more. You see a thought flicker behind his eyes.

“Have you been with others?” he voices it, complete with rumbly, territorial undertones, “While I was gone?”

This question catches you off guard, especially with him buried inside you and pulling and pushing and kindling a stronger fire inside. There’s too much happening at once, too many sensations. You are unsure of how to answer. Or if you can answer.

“I-I mean…” you start carefully, meanwhile taking a particularly hard thrust, “you were g-gone. I didn’t know when you’d be back. Or w-whether you ever would…”

Eobard takes your chin in his fingers and forces you to look him in the eyes. They flash red.

“Have you?”

You swallow hard, he inches out.

“I have.”

The man growls and his hips propel forward. You feel the jealousy, the vicious possessiveness in the movement and let out a strangled cry when he strikes you in the right spot.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Faster. Harder. Deeper.

It’s just what you asked for.

“Did they ever make you feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth. You wish he’d bite you with those teeth.

“What do you think?” you retort.

“Fucking say it.”

“No.”

“No, what?” Of course, this is the moment he decides to bring his thumb down between the two of you and play with your clit.

“Fuuuck no- no one. No one. No one but you makes me feel this way.”

It’s as if that’s exactly what Eobard needed to hear in order to kick into overdrive - to finish you, so to speak.

Finish me.

In all honesty, you would be concerned about the neighbours hearing deafening, verging on worrisome sounds coming from your mouth, but you are so deeply lost in your overpowering ride of pleasure that you don’t even care. You let your entire body just feel and let go.

You never thought you’d get to feel that much again.

You never thought you’d get to feel him again.

You think you must have been out of it for a bit there, because your eyes open to find Eobard now laying beside you, moving a piece of hair sticking to your forehead.

“Wow…” you say, then puff out a breath, looking up at the ceiling, shortly turning to face those eyes. It’s like they finally see you, finally assessing everything about your 2019-self and what he’s missed.

“I think I know the answer,” you dare to start, “but there’s no way you can stay, is there?”

“I’m afraid not,” Eobard confirms, sounding genuinely downhearted at the fact. “I’ve already risked so much coming back to this time. But we will see each other again. I can promise you that.” He meets your lips in a gentle kiss this time, something slightly unexpected, but not unheard of. “But I’m not leaving just yet. There’s still plenty left to do to you.”

Lucky me.

Anonymous Request: Would you please write Eowells x reader smut that takes place right after he runs off at the end of Flash S5? Like he and the reader are reunited and it gets steamy.

#reader insert #anon request #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #eowells x reader #eowells imagine #eobard thawne x reader #eobard thawne imagine #eobard thawne fanfiction #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

162 notes · View notes

babbushka · 5 years

Text

All My Stars (3/3)

The year is 1346. War ravages the land, and you are torn from your family to reside with the royal household of the Organas until it is safe. However you know there are more plots at play here, and you feel bitter and alone, until one mysterious Knight clad all in black bursts through the doors of the great hall, and into your heart, forever.

A Kylo Ren x Reader Medieval AU

(word count: 10.5k ; warnings: N*FW, graphic violence, threat of assault, kidnapping)

---------

While you sleep, the world turns. War ravages on and on in neighboring countries and places all over the globe. There is death, a pestilence creeping up on villages, numbers tallying far too much, too wide. The beat of drums sound for all occasion, and mourners wear their colors black. The world turns.

And yet.

Yet you sleep, and you sleep peacefully. You dream of bitten cherries and split apples, dream of plush lips and open mouthed gasps, of sticky sweet sweat sliding between bodies – your bodies, yours and Sir Ren’s.

You sleep, but you find you cannot sleep for long, too giddy to remain in the realm of dreams, far too eager to hold your eyes shut for another moment. So you wake, and oh, what a sight it is to which you wake.

Sir Ren is resting, deeply, truly, soundly resting the first time you had ever seen. In ten days of acquaintance – and by God had it only been ten days? – his lashes kiss the tops of his cheekbones, his chest rises and falls under your cheek, and he snores. The most gentle of snores, light snores, snores of a man who lived a life where he dare not make more noise than necessary, dare not sleep too deeply.

But he is sleeping deeply with you, under you, for you wake to your head on his chest, wake to your ear placed just over the beating of his heart, and you cannot wipe the smile from your lips when you remember how this came to be.

Sunlight pours in through the window on the hall, and it is this sunlight which illuminates his skin so nicely, his hair, warms him. He is not shy, in sleep. He has one arm wrapped around your waist, the other tucked underneath his head, proud bicep on display. There is a mark of beauty, just there on his bicep, and you strain to place a gentle kiss upon it, careful so that you may not wake him.

You know not when the last chance he had to sleep this much was, you do not dare take this from him now.

Instead you keep your breathing as even as possible, a trick to make him think you too still sleep, even as you remove your hands from underneath his back where it has wedged between his body and the mattress. You lift one hand, and with the very tip of your finger, you trace his features. Your touch is featherlight, practically hovering over him, the strong bridge of his nose.

You trace the closed lids of his eyes, watch as the irises move this way and that underneath the skin. You hope he is having good dreams, he deserves them. You feel as though he deserves the world. Your fingers continue their exploration of him, following the long scar that twists his mouth into a scowl, following it down down down his throat, over his collarbone, to his shoulder where it disappears.

Your stomach tightens at the fury that rises, the thought that someone would dare harm him. You know that a great many people have harmed him, in more ways than one, and you bite back the sorrow, for now he is with you, has found you.

He shifts under your touch, arms winding around you, protective. He was such a protector, you smile to yourself, even in sleep. But his face is pinching together as he stretches, and he is blinking against the sunlight, and you hum a happy sound as one of his hands smooths up your bare back to cup your skull where it rests against him, to pet through your hair.

It is a tender gesture, one that he does with hesitance, as if he had never done it before. A jealous part of you wishes this is the case, for you are so pleased to be his first in all things gentle.

“Good morning.” You whisper, the first words of the day ringing more true than they ever have, more true than you ever have meant.

“Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined someone as lovely as you.” He says, eyes molten and brimming with affection. He pulls you up his body gently, encourages you to shift so you may be atop him fully as he cups your cheeks in his hands, big and strong and warm from sleep as he kisses your eyelids.

“It is a good thing that you are wide awake, then.” You reply, turning in his grasp to kiss his palms, and he grins, a full, beautiful smile that shows off all of his handsomely crooked teeth, a smile which crinkles his nose and eyes, a smile which has the whole world stopped outside.

By God, you think, he is so handsome – you are smitten with him, with his dimples.

“I do not believe you, pinch me.” He jests, but you do anyway, reach out a couple fingers and pinch at the strong muscle of his ribs as you lean away from his lips, opting instead to straddle him.

Oh how princely he looks, you think, from your view above him. The canopy curtains flutter in the slight breeze of the room which comes from the pleasant weather. His hair is splayed across your pillow, and he is surrounded by feathers which float gently in the air – feathers from the mattress which has split open as a result of the love making you two so vigorously enjoyed. You pick one such feather from behind his ear where it has settled, use it to tickle his nose.

He blows it away, his hands creeping up your stomach to cup your breasts. You watch him with an amused smile, as he supports your chest with his palms, not willing to let them go.

“I have made you something, a token, a favor.” You say, leaning over to your bedside table, a beautiful wooden thing with only a single drawer. “I hope you will wear it during the joust, when your two weeks have arrived.”

Out from the table you pull the ribbon which you have embroidered, have spent the past few days stealing a stitch or two or twenty, embroidery you have done by the candle light in your room when Sir Ren stands guard outside. It is a long strip of white silk, which you hope will contrast against the inky blackness of his armor when he puts it on.

At the spot where it will be most visible on his arm, you have detailed your monogram, in red and black threads, just your initials. But you have a secret, for you have poured all your love into these stitches, and have blessed them with prayers and charms and chants, imbued them with all the strength and protection you have within you so that he might be safe when he wears this, this favor.

Sir Ren sits up in bed, the wooden frame protesting only slightly, but neither of you pay it any mind. He carefully carefully carefully accepts it, like it is something precious, sacred, holy. The awe in his eyes tell you that perhaps to him, it is. Your chest warms, fondness and love blooming ever brighter for your guard.

“They will have to saw off my entire arm to remove it.” He says, gently placing it on the table once more so he might embrace you, might tuck your face into his neck and hold you so so so tight, might tremble around you from the force of his adoration.

“You will make a fine king.” You whisper with such vehemence into his neck, your hands clasping together around his shoulders, that you feel a short, self deprecating laugh huff out from the man.

“You put so much confidence in me, all the time.” He murmurs, only tightening his embrace, his hold on you.

“Yes, I do, and you cannot let me down now, for I will be immensely disappointed.” You grin, ever playful, ever wanting him to be in nothing but the best of moods.

He pulls away enough so that he may look upon you, your naked body, and you let him have as much of an eyeful as he wants. You stretch yourself out, facing him on his lap, leaning back and bracing yourself on his strong thighs, letting the sun illuminate you in the same manner which it did him.

He copies your movements from earlier, allows a hand to trace over the features of your face, hand shaking ever so slightly.

“I so long to kiss you.” He says, so soft, so quiet in the morning light.

You blush, pleased he is finally asking for what he wants, what he has wanted for so long, what you have been desperate for for ages. You tuck his hair behind his ears, and this time he does not shake it away, this time he does not hide behind himself, he only bites at his lip while staring at yours.

“You need not ask.” You say, and it is like magic the way he moves.

He rolls you underneath him, cages you between his arms, huge muscles doing so little effort to hold him up as he supports himself above you. When he leans down to kiss you, when he presses his lips against yours, when you part your legs so he may settle between them, you sigh – for what greater bliss is this?

“When you were with Snoke, what were you like?” You ask, reaching a hand down between your bodies to grasp at his cock, pleased to find it filling out rapidly, growing harder and harder in your hand as you stroke him off.

“What do you mean?” He asks, caught off guard, frowning, confused you would ask such a thing in a moment like this.

“I mean, were you a cruel man, a dictator? Slaughtering innocents, men women and children?” You ask breathlessly, positioning him against you, your heel encouraging him to push inside.

When he does, you moan, exhale a great big breath. He grunts, pushes further inside you, your legs lifting and hips tilting to accommodate him, his great size. He was so great in size in fact, that you cannot prevent yourself from wincing just slightly. Perhaps it was a mistake for him to fuck you with virtually no preparations, but you soon find yourself growing slick, wet wet wet for him, and the slide becomes easier.

“Yes.” Sir Ren nods, the most incredible blush splotching down his chest as he begins to thrust.

“Did they deserve it?” You ask, head tipped back, remembering the day in the wood, how he had been so ruthless, so merciless, so absolutely severe. The memory of him so unhinged goes straight through to your stomach, to your cunt, and you clench around him.

“Yes.” Sir Ren moans as he moves to grip your thighs tight, to become harder, faster, to fuck you with more vigor.

This was not a slow and sweet affair, this was a hard brutal pace that tore moans and gasps from your throat, this was a bruising pace which you would only revel in later, would only encourage. You encourage him now, unable to withhold your shouts of pleasure, for oh how he pleasured you so well.

“Yes!” You grin, you gasp, you groan, but Sir Ren only grips a hold of your jaw in one massive hand, tilts your head to look at him, and you are so close that it is not a challenge to look at him – but it is a challenge to keep your eyes open when his cock is doing its best to make you scream.

“Do you not hate me?” He asks, and you frown, shake your head as best you can within his grasp.

“Why should I?” You ask, moaning moaning moaning, as he pins you and bites you and fucks you.

“Because I just told you I am an evil man.” He says, and you laugh, because there are no such thing as evil men, only those with different reasons.

“You are not evil to me.” You say, because he is not, truly is not, has never once been. “When you rule Alderaan, will you be rutheless?” You demand to know, and Sir Ren looks you in the eye with all the sincerity he can.

“If I need to be.” He says, and this, this is the sign of a true king, and you dig your nails into his lower back as you pull him as flush to your body as you can, pleased, so pleased with him, with his answers.

You push him back, push him underneath you once more, in a position that is all sinful as hell. All of this was sinful, you thought with a sick glee, all of it was prohibited – so what was to stop you from doing what you wanted? You had heard of the pleasure that could be gained from ways other than missionary, and you were more than eager to try them out for yourself.

As you rock your hips above him, you get a fine view of your knight, of the way his face clenches tight in pleasure of his own.

“I – ” He gasps but you shake your head, for you are so close, so so close, drunk off the feeling of him, the promise that he might crush your enemies, the promise that he will remain soft to you despite it all.

He feels incredible inside you, the very head of his cock as far deep as it can do, pressing against you in a manner that’s almost painful. You rub your hand on your lower stomach, and you swear you can feel it, you can feel him, feel the ridge of his cock inside you.

“Just a moment longer.” You command, and he listens, he does as you say, his hands have such a tight grip on your hips in order to keep you in place, to prevent him from slipping out.

It is devilishly good, the way that this feels, and now you know why the Church forbids it.

Well, you think, you are bound to no church of these lands, and when your orgasm begins to crest you clamp your cunt hard down around his cock.

“Oh!” Sir Ren’s eyes fly open, and the sweet man, sweet and caring, he knows what to do to help you push over that edge, he licks his thumb and wets it well, rolls it on your clit as he sits up, takes one of your nipples into his mouth and gives a good hard suck.

“Yes – yes, please, yes!” You babble, lost, so lost, drowning in pleasure as white hot sparks shoot up your spine.

You feel it when he comes, can feel it spreading through you. It makes you anxious, thrills you in the best of ways, for there is no saying what could come of this – no saying who might come from this.

Sir Ren seems to know it too, and he is out of breath, panting, groaning from pleasure, trembling as his own orgasm shoots through him just as his come shoots through you. You roll your hips on top of his to make it last a little longer, make it a little sweeter, until he is rolling you both onto your sides so he can fuck you through it.

The sound your bodies make when he forces his come so deep inside you is intoxicating, the sticky squelch of it almost sickening, if it were not so good. He does not pull away, not for a long while, instead content to simply look at you, eyes hazy and clouded from simple bliss, ecstasy.

Sir Ren cleans you first with his tongue, lapping up all your come and licking the sweat and spit from your body in the most intimate of acts. Whatever has spilled from your pussy gets steadily pumped back in with sure fingers, and your breath hitches for surely he is aware of the consequences of such an act.

He is, and he remarks you with fondness, with love, so much so that you find yourselves kissing kissing kissing once more, kissing so much that you fear your lips may chap, a thought which only leads you to smile against his mouth. He hums at you, and his voice is so luscious and deep deep deep in his chest, as it rumbles into your body through your joined lips.

After what seems like an age and a half, you both cleanse yourselves properly with a striped linen towel which rests near the basin of perfumed oiled water. It is an act of worship you both exchange, equally and utterly devoted to the other.

---------

“You are in fine spirits this morning, Lady (Y/N).” Queen Leia regards you once you and Sir Ren have dressed and made yourselves known to the great hall for breakfast.

You know she speaks at you with condescending tones, patronizing humors, but you breeze past it happily, for though she may be sarcastic, there is no denying the words she says.

“I am indeed!” You cannot stop smiling as you reach for the many foods laid out for you on the high table as Sir Ren takes his spot standing directly behind your chair. “Please, forgive my behavior these past few days. I know it is no excuse, but you must imagine how difficult this has been for me, hoping to come here for safety and instead being a pawn in a game of chess.”

“You mean to say you have not changed your mind?” Queen Leia asks with a frown, and you chuckle, for how and why on earth did she think you would?

“I have not.” You inform her as you spread butter upon your bread, offering it up to Sir Ren to satisfy some of his hunger instead of your own, “Only love will ensnare me into such a union, I do apologize for anything I have done to raise your hopes.” You say, and though Sir Ren is as stoic as possible now that he is outside the confines of your bedchambers, still there is the very barest hint of a smile on his mouth when he chews the bread you have torn for him.

“I am disappointed, both in your feelings towards my ward, and your feelings towards my son.” Queen Leia sighs, angrily stabbing a grape with her knife.

“You need not be disappointed; they are not feelings you are responsible for.” You shrug easily, enraging the woman though you do not care, “Your son has been the most incredible companion, I do not know what I might have been without him.”

“You speak so strongly for someone who knows so little about him.” She seethes, but you simply regard her with an even manner.

“If I may be so bold, I believe I know more about him than you do, your Majesty.” You point out, not breaking eye contact with her as you give Sir Ren an apple, which he swiftly rips in two. He places a half in your waiting hand, and it is with a slight pettiness that you so obviously relish the taste.

“What has he offered you, for you to fall so indebted to him, so defensive of him? When you know what he has done to my family?” Sir Dameron finally speaks, and you do your best not to sigh too heavily, growing weary from the same conversation over and over.

If only they could see him the way you did.

“He has offered me nothing but his affections, and I have accepted them eagerly.” You reply.

“Yes, I believe the whole of the castle can attest to that.” Bishop Luke mutters into his goblet, making his sister choke on her oats and honey.

You must bury your face inside a goblet of your own, for your grin hits so immediately that you feel it nearly inappropriate.

Good you think as you hydrate yourself with fresh clean water, let them have heard, let them all have heard – let God in heaven have cast her blessings down upon you and your knight. Such a union was not to be tarnished, not now, not ever.

“Why does he not speak?” Queen Leia asks, fist clenched around her spoon.

“Pray tell what should he have to say? Especially to such a mother.” You remark. Sir Ren was a quiet man – even engaged in the throes of passion he was ultimately silent, save for grunts and groans low in your ear.

Queen Leia is not pleased with you, not one bit, and it seems as though this is the final straw which has broken the camel’s back.

“He is lucky I do not sick the castle guards upon his very hide!” She slams her cutlery down, red faced and shouting, shouting so loud that it carries through the great hall, through the castle walls, “He should be begging for my forgiveness, for redemption! He should be swinging from the tallest of trees for all to see what happens to traitors of my kingdom! If it were not for your contract with him or the duel with my ward, he should be dragged through the streets and quartered in the town square for the crimes he has committed – and you claim I am to be ashamed? How dare you.”

You are swift to stand and challenge her, for she is not so saintly, not nearly as Good as she postulates.

“Ah but I did make a contract with him, the very contract which has kept me alive in your god forsaken land, where bandits and robbers run amok, where the poor scavenge for food among the rubbish, where monarchs are too busy to show their face to the people – instead content to lie and manipulate and isolate their wards into marriages that might bring them political advantage during a war they are too cowardly to truly fight. You hide behind your stone walls while your people and friends suffer, you are no better than the men you spit upon, your Majesty.” You deliver your speech with an even tone, not giving her the satisfaction of growing so frustrated, despite how desperately you wish for a duel of your own.

If only Ladies engaged in such behavior, you think with a fiery stare.

This time, it is her turn to storm away, to gather her skirts and her fine fabrics and flee the room.

The time, it is her turn to have all eyes watching as her beet red face burns.

This time, it is you which reigns victorious, in this battle of breakfast.

It takes a few moments before conversation strikes up once again, and when it does, it is the fair Gwendoline who starts it.

“Has there…been any word from the war?” She asks, pleased as punch for you, and you give her a knowing smile even though the answer is not so pleasant.

“No, unfortunately not. I doubt my most recent correspondence with my father has yet to even reach him.” You explain, for things take time in normal circumstances, you can’t imagine the sort of obstacles the messengers must face when trebuchets are involved.

“English savages, I cannot comprehend the desire to fight the French when there are still wars to be won in their own dominion. Hopefully when you hear from him next, it will be news of victory.” Gwendoline says, and you appreciate her enthusiasm greatly.

Sir Dameron looks to you with genuine curiosity from across the table, something which startles you considering you had just told off his adoptive mother, and queen.

“What shall you do, Lady (Y/N), when the war is over?” He asks, and this is a question you find yourself not prepared for.

You sit back in your chair and mull it over for a moment, thinking, for now that you have met Sir Ren, everything is different.

“Well I suppose that depends greatly on the outcome, does it not?” You say, for this is true.

“Let’s say if you win.” Sir Dameron suggests, and you are pleased to hear this as the first and most likely suggestion.

“If we win then I should like to return home, I think. Be with my people, celebrate our victory.” You reply, although it feels like a political answer, a princesses’ answer.

“And if you lose?” He asks, but you simply tsk your teeth and shake your head.

“Let us not tempt God with such notions, shall we?” You ask playfully, when thankfully, a man climbs the few steps to the high table with a hefty jug.

“Would you care for some wine my lady?” The man asks, and you assume him to be a servant, for he is dressed as one of the many that you met on your tour of the castle in a time which feels both so long ago, and only last week all at once.

You are nearly about to agree, when Sir Ren leans down, speaks so only you may hear.

“Let me taste it for you.” He commands, and you turn your head over your shoulder to face him, seeing nothing but wicked anger in his eyes.

“Why?” You whisper, and he clenches his jaw, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“They have slipped something inside the vessel.” He whispers in return and your heart begins to beat.

Rose, the woman from the village, she did say the Queen’s loyalists were a rebellious bunch. Perhaps this was the beginning of a rebellion, right here, right now.

“If they have poisoned my drink I would not let you have some.” You insist quietly, before turning back around to face this man who now shakes and sweats in his shoes, for he knows that he has been found out. You raise your voice when speaking to him, shaking your head, “I would prefer the ale, if I may.”

“The ale?” The man stammers, and you raise a brow.

“Yes, why is there something – ”

“No!” The man cuts you off, and before anyone can do anything, the jug of wine has crashed to the floor.

Sir Ren has his sword at the man’s throat, pointed blade sharp and true, aimed directly for his jugular. He has pulled your whole chair back so he may stand in front of you, and he towers over this servant, this coward.

“Do not. Interrupt her.” He says, and the entire hall is frozen in shock as he does not remove his sword, does not stand down. In fact, he presses it with wicked strength deeper and deeper until the blade is slicing just through the very top layers of the man’s skin, until he is wincing and trembling and bleeding. Not enough to do any real harm, not unless you wish it.

You hum to yourself, butter another crust of bread, take a bite and chew it, all the while this man bleeds before you.

“It’s alright Sir Ren, he didn’t mean it. Did you?” You decide upon finally, asking with false sweetness in your voice.

The man would fall to the ground begging if he were not so pinned by Sir Ren’s sword, but he does begin to sob, to plead.

“I’ll – I’ll take the wine away your highness – I swear I didn’t mean to – ” He blubbers, and you grace him with a soothing hand to calm his brow.

“I am merciful, but do not cross me again.” You say with a smile as Sir Ren sheathes his sword once more. The man falls to your feet, places kisses to your shoes, but you simply pat his back, a cue for him to scramble away.

“I want that man hanged.” Sir Ren says low in your ear, fuming, teeth clenched, fist white-knuckled as you pry his hand open and twine your fingers with his own.

“And you shall have it, once you are king.” You say softly, as the two of you, as the whole hall, watches the man run away.

---------

With no other plans, other than perhaps Sir Ren training once again later in the afternoon, you and he find yourselves in bed once more. For what better way was there to spend a morning, than lounging about, engaged in one another’s company?

“You very well may have saved my life this morning, for the second time. I am forever indebted to you.” You say, sandwiching his palm between your own for the third time, placing your forehead against his so that somehow, somehow your thoughts may travel directly to his brain.

He tucks your hair behind your ears, pinches and tugs at your earlobes with the softest, most beautiful affection. You did not know how such small gestures could hold so much love, and yet.

Sir Ren is truly an enigma, one you are truly honored to behold.

“I require no such payments.” He says with a shake of his head.

He is in your bed, without his armor. He had taken it off after breakfast, and you find that you enjoy him like this more and more. Why must modesty cover up such gorgeous skin, such a capable body? He is naked, and you are naked, though he does not embrace you in the typical way.

Between you are a deck of playing cards, and though he is very good, you are better at matching like suits and values together. You glance at him coyly over the top of your hand, blush at him.

“Oh but Sir Ren, I could not give you nothing. Surely there must be something.” You play, licking your lips though he cannot see.

He glances from his cards to meet your eyes, and you can see the smile there. He sets his cards down too, joins yours in the small pile between your bodies, and allows himself to rake his eyes over your chest, your stomach, the supple flesh of your thighs as you sit before him.

“Upon a second thought, there is one thing I would deem most acceptable.” He says, slowly crawls his way over to you, and when you lay back against the pillows, he follows.

“Pray tell, what might that be?” You ask, hands carding through his hair as you arrange your legs to accommodate him, more than eager for a second fucking if he is so willing to give you one.

“A kiss from the lips of a fair maiden.” He asks for instead, and you blush, for he is so sweet, so charming, and he knows it. Little by little, he is starting to know it.

“Only one?” You ask, for he may have as many as he would like, whenever he would like, you have told him this.

“I dare not believe myself worthy of more.” He says, although something in his tone is too playful to be entirely self-conscious, and you are suspicious of his intentions in the most thrilling of ways.

“Allow me to prove you wrong then. Where are you going?” You ask when he begins to kiss down your body, and you are confused, for your mouth is decidedly up on your face.

“I did not specify which lips, Lady (Y/N).” His eyes glimmer and shine with mirth.

“Call me – oh!” You are cut off by a moan, for he has licked a broad stripe up your cunt, the most unexpected of places.

He noses inside you, holds your pelvis down with the firm press of his hands as your kneels box around his head. From your position you cannot see anything more than a mop of thick black hair, but the sensations are incredible. It is like he is making out with your pussy, the way he is sucking and prodding and touching you with those divine lips.

His tongue is so long, and he thrusts it inside you, as far as it will go. What a muscle, you think as you moan, the tongue.

“Sir Ren!” You gasp, a hand flying to his head, holding him steady.

He chuckles against you, drinks you down, he is desperate for you, and you are in no mood to stop him, not even as playing cards stick to your back, your thighs.

You shake and moan around his tongue, and you do not last long, not nearly as long as you would like. The pleasure is so different, such a different kind of sex, that you do not know what to expect, and you do not hold yourself back.

Neither, you are pleased to find, does Sir Ren – for a man with no experience, he is attuned to your body so well. You only wonder what other wonders there may be, what other feelings he can elicit from your nerves.

Your grip on his hair is strong and when you come down his throat it is obscene, it is so wet, so slippery, so intense. He only holds you down as your hips buck up, for as delicious as this is, you need more, need more friction to truly be satisfied. You need to be filled to the brim with come of his own, and you need it now.

“Will you really return home?” Sir Ren asks, and your head is foggy, but you can register the true fear in his voice.

You bring a weak hand to his face, to wipe up the come on his chin. He takes hold of your wrist and makes you feed him your come, and your heart hurts at the thought of ever leaving him.

“I don’t think I know where that is any longer.” You admit, a much truer statement than your political announcement at the breakfast table.

“What do you mean?” He asks with a frown, which you find odd, for surely, surely he must know the feeling, having been on the run for so long.

He rests his head on your stomach, splays a hand across your lower belly, the same place where he shot his load inside you. He presses on it lightly, rubs soothing circles there, as if he is willing something to fruition. You comb your fingers through his hair, for it is truly an addicting sensation, the silky smooth locks under your nails, and you sigh.

“I was born to Poland, yes, but have spent so much time living elsewhere, always on the move. In Hungary, Germany, France, back and forth between them – and now Alderaan. I don’t have a home, I’m afraid, just a place to rest my head at the end of a long day.” You say, and Sir Ren looks up at you with those big brown eyes, and kisses the flesh of your stomach.

“This could be your home.” He whispers, whispers as if he is nervous, anxiety swimming in his face, “Here, with me.”

“Would you have me?” You ask, and he reaches underneath your body for something.

He pulls out from under you a queen of hearts card, and rests it on your sternum. You grin, for he is so sentimental, truly.

“You gave me a gift, would you permit me to bestow one upon you?” He asks, licks his lips.

“I would never deny any request you make.” You reply simply, because it is true, it is always true. You will tell him that a thousand times if you must, for no request would ever be too far out of reach.

He goes still for a moment before groaning, before letting his forehead hit your lower stomach in a way that has you laughing at the dramatics of it all.

“I’m afraid I don’t have it on me, but it will just take a moment to fetch. Sam has been keeping it safe, guarding it.” Sir Ren says, and you nod, laughing once more at how quickly he moves now that you have given him permission.

He wipes himself down of sweat and your come with the same towel as earlier, and he dresses lightly, only wearing his black tunic and surcoat, the thick padding meant to protect his skin from the armor which he forgoes.

“Make haste, for I don’t know if I can bear to be apart from you for long.” You smile, and he nods, rushes back to the bedside just to place an eager kiss to your lips, a hard one, filled with passion, before he disappears from the room with a grin.

You wonder what it could possibly be – don’t dare to hope for any one thing.

But you feel as though you know, you feel as though of course you know what it could be, and you cannot prevent your heart from beating ever quicker at the idea of it.

You simply dress in your smock, for now that Sir Ren is gone, there is a chill over your body.

You don’t bother putting on any more clothes, for you know the moment he returns from the stables, you will be naked once more, underneath or on top of him once more, and you grow weary of taking off so many layers.

You are pulling the fabric over your head when the door to your bedchambers opens, and you laugh, for he really had made haste, hadn’t he?

“My goodness I did not anticipate you being that fast – oh!” The world spins when you turn to face him, and it is not Sir Ren at all.

No, it is the servant, the man from earlier, the man with the gash in his throat. He has a dagger by his side, and you give a hardened stare.

“I took mercy on you.” You frown, but the servant shrugs, tosses the dagger into the air and catches it in a manner well meant to intimidate, to attack.

Unluckily for him, you have a knife as well, as you lunge across the bed to grab the push dagger and wrap your fingers securely around the metal grip.

He does not expect this, but he does give up a good fight, and you meet blade for blade before you punch him in the gut and he doubles over in pain. You brace your hands on his back as you knee into his face, not stopping until you can feel the hot slide of blood through your smock, until you hear the crunching of cartilage as his nose breaks.

Before the man can fall to the floor completely, you flee.

It takes two seconds to realize you are being chased, that this was not one lone man, this was not an act of rebellion for defying the Queen.

You are not given a moment to even scream for help, before a hand clasps around your mouth and a cloth is pressed to your nose.

The last thing you think, is Sir Ren’s name, think it so loudly that you hope, pray that it must reach him somehow.

The world goes black.

---------

You do not know how much time has passed when you wake up. You do not know where you are, for it is dark. But not the kind of dark to suggest night-time, the kind of dark to instead suggest you are in a dungeon of sorts, a prison. You do not bother to scream, for the more of your senses that return to you, the more the dungeon is most likely.

There is a steady drip of water in the distance, the drip of water against stone. It must be raining then, you think, for you are in no cave; when you move, you find your ankles have been chained, your wrists bound in a similar manner.

You seethe, eyes wide as they try to adjust in the dark. Whoever your captors are, they have not taken you out of your smock, and for this you are grateful.

This is the only thing you are grateful for.

You immediately begin searching for a fault in the iron which shackles your hands and feet, immediately begin bashing them against a stone that protrudes from the wall, that you have felt around for. You try and try to break these bonds, but it is to no avail, and you feel yourself growing angrier and angrier with each attempt.

A door slams open, and white light floods the space as lightning cracks across your vision, makes you shut your eyes from the shock of it. Rain indeed. You do not cower, you do not hide, for you are not weak. But you do wince at the lightning as more and more of it angrily travels the sky, holding a hand up to block it and get a look at your captor.

It is a man with bright red hair, this you can tell. But that is about all from this position, where he is backlit and all you see is a black silhouette.

“Do you know who I am?” The man asks, and the accent is not surprising considering the hair.

He is Irish, accent thick, so thick he may as well speak Gaelic, when he speaks to you.

“No.” You reply, and he snaps for men to haul you to the light of torches that they carry, so you may see.

He is vicious looking, entirely angles and sharp lines. His eyes are a blazing green, but they are cold, icy. His cupids bow is sharp as an arrow, and his cheekbones are hollow, razor polished, as if he wanted his skull to be a weapon when he was through with this earth.

These are features that would stay with a person, you think, if one would be so unfortunate as to behold them.

“I do not know you.” You repeat and the men drop you to the ground, hard.

“Liar!” He shouts, and this you hate, for you are many things, but not a liar.

“I do not lie!” You shout back, bold, too bold, but you cannot help it, you will not let your reputation be so tarnished. “I recognize not your face nor your colors. You are a mystery to me.”

“Does my voice not give me away?” He circles you, and when you move to stand he places a heavy boot on your back and forces you down to the cold hard stone of your prison.

“I have heard many a voice, yours does not stand out.” You try your best to remain calm, try your very best to remain still so as to not agitate him. “Just tell me who you are and what you want from me.”

“I am Lord Armitage Hux. Your uncle has crossed the English king once too many times. I am to bring you back as a ransom.” Armitage crouches down, his knee now pinning you as his voice is slimy in your ear when he whispers, “Dead or alive.”

“What good is a ransom dead?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He stands back up, walks away from you, hangs about in the doorway.

In the small beat of silence, you hear the sound of an army just outside, the sound of a battalion – all of this to capture just one princess?

“You best watch your mouth, your highness.” Armitage – for you dare not give him the respect of his title – taunts, “For I have many a man here who has not felt the comfort of a woman’s touch in quite some time.”

It is disgusting, what he suggests, and your stomach sinks.

“You wouldn’t dare.” You go deathly still, and he only reaches out a hand, a gloved finger brushing down your cheek as you tremble with rage.

“Don’t tempt me.” He replies softly.

You turn your head to bite him, hard, clamp your teeth down into his finger and do your very best to sever it. The leather is too thick, and he backhands you with a hard crack, as he calls for guards.

They pour into the room, and you grow so filled with rage that it takes three men to restrain you as you begin to kick and scream and fight against their hold, against these bonds.

“You will be slaughtered, all of you!” You can feel the heat in your face when you bare your teeth, “Every single one of you – my guard, he is on his way right this very moment, he will find me and he will spear your hearts with his sword and he will – ”

“You talk too much.” Armitage slaps you again, this time with a hand that is adorned with rings, and your mouth rings copper with blood.

“You are Irish! How dare you betray your people this way! How dare you side with the English with all the terror they have brought – get off me! Get your filthy fucking hands off me!” You scream and shout, kick though your feet are weighed down by the iron chains.

“Oh she’s feisty, isn’t she?” Armitage laughs, and it is as sinister as it is cruel.

You mentally redact your statement from earlier, about there being no evil men. This was an evil man if you had ever seen one.

“Sir Ren will have your heads mounted on pikes to be displayed for all the land.” You spit on the floor at his feet, and this, for some reason, is the thing that makes him fault.

“…Sir Ren?” Armitage asks, turning slowly to frown at you, scowl at you, “You don’t mean, Kylo Ren, do you?” He asks.

He is afraid.

By God, he is afraid.

“The very same.” Your chest fills with pride for your guard, as Armitage’s face twitches.

“He is not real – he is a legend.” He scoffs, and the men around you murmur in shock, in a similar manner as the nobles and peasants from the feast all that time ago had done.

“A myth!” One calls out in disbelief,

“A ghost!” Another supplants.

You shake your head, eyes locked dead on the soulless gaze of your captor.

“He is more real than you could ever imagine. And when he sees the state of my face, the dirt on my clothes, he will take great pleasure in tearing you limb from limb.” You promise, for oh, that is a promise.

A promise which is soon supported with reality, as not long after those words leave your lips, do the sound of drums ring clear in the air.

The army outside has spotted an enemy, and you are seized with both relief and terror, for Sir Ren is one man, and this battalion is fifty strong.

“Who is it?” Armitage snaps, races outside with the guards which follow him.

You go as far as your bindings let you, which truly isn’t much, only enough to get to the doorway of your cell.

“Please please please.” You bite your lip, squinting through the rain.

“Shut up.” Armitage hisses, but you are filled with adrenaline, can feel it thrumming through you.

“If that is who I hope it is, you will regret the day you were born.” You laugh, and he only grabs you, shakes you roughly, so rough that the chains rattle, bruise against your calves from where they hit your flesh.

“I said shut up! After that man!” He barks orders at his troops.

Ten men gather their weapons and run into the mist, and you think they cannot be serious, they cannot be serious. You have seen the damage your guard as done to ten men, you have seen firsthand how it is not but the smallest effort for him. You cannot see, you wish you could see, but there are screams and shouts in the distance barely hidden by the pounding pounding pounding of rain against the earth.

You cannot be sure – cannot dare to hope – but you believe one of the screams is not of pain, it is of fury.

Armitage throws you to the ground once more as he leaves to command his troops, and you take the opportunity to pry at your bindings once again. The rain helps, and though it is a tight fit, a fit which scrapes your skin raw, which leaves it red and bleeding, you are able to slide your hands through the iron shackles, you are able to free them.

While Armitage is distracted, you use iron against iron, thinking about Sir Ren and his thousand hours crafting his armor, his eight hundred hours making his sword, as sparks fly in between the metal as you try try try to get it to crack.

“Next group!” Armitage shouts, “Archers! At the ready!”

Your pulse quickens and you are desperate, you slam the shackles from which you have freed your hands, against the ones which bind your legs, wishing you had the strength of a knight to save you.

It does not work, and you grow frantic, for the drums beat louder and the lightning streaks across the sky and more and more men run into the mist, more men run with swords drawn, more men aim their bows high. They do not bother lighting their arrows, for the rain would immediately douse the flame, but you wish they would, if only so you could see the face of your rescuer, so that you could know it was him.

You hear the clang of sword-fighting, you hear the screams, and yes, yes that is the voice of your man, of your guard your knight your lover your king. You could sob, you could yell and shout with relief when you hear his battle-cry, the fact that you can hear it at all. This means that he must be advancing, he must be coming closer closer closer, and Armitage’s voice shakes when he demands,

“Next group!”

This is the third set of ten men, and you grow worried, for there is no way to know if Sir Ren has been injured, no way to know. You abandon your task of trying to break the shackles around your feet, and instead aim to break their bonding from the wall.

This comes easier, you think, as you slam away the rock which holds the chains secure. It is not easy work, and you are drenched in sweat. Your arms are numb from the effort, for these chains are not light, they are not meant to be broken.

Well, you think, neither are you.

“Next group!” You hear Armitage scream, and now he is truly panicked, you can tell in his voice, can tell from the way that his men still shout, still scream, can tell from the way this hasn’t ended yet.

You have renewed faith – in both yourself and your guard, and with each boom of thunder and each crack of lightning, you strike the stone with iron, you send sparks flying against it, until finally, finally it rips from the wall.

Frantic, you gather the chains up as much as you can in your arms, and run out of your cell.

Looking around in a panic, you spot him, Armitage with his sword pointed as he commands with desperation, “Final group!”

With all your might, you use the rain to your advantage as you wrestle him to the ground, trying your best not to be trampled by the final ten troops that obey their General’s orders. Armitage fights back, but he is powerless once you loop the chains around his neck, once you twist them just so that you may choke him as you pull tightly.

He gasps and pleads for air, but you give him no mercy. You would never give mercy again, to those who did not deserve it.

As the fight rages on in the rain, you bear the brutal frigid downpour in nothing other than your torn and bloodied smock as you choke this man – this rat – to death, shouting just from the effort. It is your shout, that does it, that captures the attention of your rescuer.

“(Y/N)!!” Your name, just your name, rings out loud and clear and true, it is a scream so defiant.

His defiance will surely shake the stars.

“Yes!” You cannot contain it, the cry that rips from your lips as you fall to your knees, as you let yourself drop the chains which have done their job, have killed this man underneath your feet.

He has slain them all, Sir Ren has.

He walks towards you, blade practically glowing crimson at his side as he walks towards you, too tired to run. He has fought so valiantly, so bravely, he has used all his energy.

So you, you run to him.

With a slashed face and soaked through to the bone in nothing but your linen smock to clothe you, you run to him, and the closer you get the more clearly you can see him as he emerges from the mist, hair plastered to his head, armor black as night – save for the single strip of white silk he has tied around his bicep.

When you leap into his arms it is as if the whole universe celebrates; the largest and most bright display of lightning illuminates the earth for so long you almost forget it is night, almost forget it is raining.

He kisses you, a hard press of lips against your own, and you can taste blood in his mouth – or is that yours? It does not matter, for you are together once more, and somewhere, somewhere in the distance, a choir sings as you kiss and kiss and kiss, reunited.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, voice hoarse from all his shouting, all his effort.

You cling to him, and he winces, and you see that there are deep stab wounds from where his armor has not protected him, and you panic.

“You are injured, please, you must lie down.” You cry, for of course you are crying, how can you not? He found you, he saved you.

“No, only if they had harmed you would I feel any pain.” He says, his hand pushing your sopping hair out of your face so he may see you better. “It’s cold.”

You kiss him, and you laugh against his lips, because you are so in love, you are so in love.

“I never minded the cold much.” You reply, leaning your forehead against his own as he smiles, remembering a day at the brook not so long ago.

The rain slows to a stop, and though the sun does not make a dramatic appearance, there is certainly enough light to see the damage that Sir Ren has done.

Fifty bodies lay on the floor, dismembered, disemboweled, the ground more red than it is green. You glance to the fallen general, and are proud when you can count fifty-one.

“I spent two days looking to find you.” Sir Ren begins to cry as he holds you close, as he kisses all over your face, all across your neck, your hands, falls to his knees and embraces your stomach, winds his arms around your middle as he weeps into your smock, “I thought – I didn’t know what I might find, when I did. To see you here, to see you alive, has me more thankful than I have been for anything in my life.”

“Take me home.” You say, for you want nothing more than this, want nothing more than to be with him, and Sir Ren takes no greater pleasure in whistling for Sam.

---------

Armitage did not take you very far, it would seem, for after a two day’s search, it turned out only a full night’s ride was all it took to bring you back to Alderaan from the Unknown Regions in which you had been held.

In the morning, when the sun peeks out from behind the clouds and the birds chirp, you and Sir Ren turn your face to the light, smile against its warmth. The night had been long, neither of you had slept, urging Sam onward and onward.

You are met at the castle gates with a committee, just as you had been on the very first day. This time there are many more people, all of whom rush to your aid, to Sir Ren’s, to Sam’s. The three of you have arrived caked in blood, and from the moment you were spotted coming over the hill, you had heard the call for medics.

The entire royal family is at the gate, and when Sam comes to a running stop directly outside them, the very same squire helps you down from the horse.

“Sir Dameron, if you would allow my guard a day’s rest for the joust – ” You begin, but the knight holds up a hand to stop you.

“There is no need.” He says, and anger flares in your chest.

“But he is injured!” You exclaim, and Sir Dameron realizes what you must be thinking, shakes his head.

“I will not rule. I have thought long and hard on this matter, over the course of the fortnight you have been here. It has shown me my true desires, none of which involve the crown.” Sir Dameron shocks you all by proclaiming, shocks everyone, everyone except Queen Leia, and the handsome young nobleman who stands at Sir Dameron’s side, the very same which Sir Dameron had looked so longingly at, the very first night.

“You mean to say, you are stepping down?” You ask, voicing aloud for yourself what he has insinuated.

“Yes, although to me, it feels like a step up.” Sir Dameron admits with a chuckle, and it is the first time you find him truly, genuinely, charming.

“Does the Queen know?” You ask, because you must ask, because she is right there and scowling at you.

“Yes, she is not pleased, but I have spent my life trying to please her. From now on, I shall live trying to only please myself, and my lover.” Sir Dameron says, squeezing the hand of the man, “Lady (Y/N), this is Finn. It is my honor to introduce you.”

The men look at one another, and you can see nothing but love, and your chest warms to know that you had been right all along, you had.

“Where will you go?” You ask, but Sir Dameron only shrugs, still gazing into the eyes of his most loved companion.

“I should hope we may fuck off to the mountains, build a lodge there and live among the wood.” He says, making you laugh, before blushing, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck, “Thank you for being so adamantly against me.”

“I meant no real offense.” You grin.

From behind you, Sir Ren dismounts his horse. You wonder what will happen now, now that all this has transpired. You wonder if Sir Ren has proved himself to his mother, his brother, his people. You wonder, but you don’t have to wonder for long, as Sir Dameron takes a step towards him.

“It looks as though there will be no joust today.” He says, extending a hand, an open palm for Sir Ren to take.

You could practically cheer when he does, when they exchange a firm shake, but instead you simply lean yourself back against your man, your beloved.

“No.” Sir Ren agrees, before stepping around you and quirking a small smile, “But there still may be a feast.”

You frown, for you know not of his meaning.

He goes to Sam, reaches inside one of her knapsack, rummages around for something.

When he has finally found it, he makes his way back to you, and caked in blood and dirt and sweat and tears, he slowly slowly slowly lowers himself, so that he is upon but one knee before you.

“They say, that when an oyster rises from its resting-place to the surface of the sea, it opens its mouth and takes in some heavenly dew, and the rays of the sun shine around it; thus there grows within the stone a most precious, shining pearl indeed, conceived from the heavenly dew and given luster by the rays of the sun.” He delivers this speech, the most you have ever truly heard him speak, as he uncovers a piece of jewelry, from the clamshell of his hands.

It is a band of braided gold, the top of which is a hexagonal setting for which a large pearl has been placed. It is beautiful, and he holds it up to the light, holds it up to the sun, holds it up to you.

“And though this ring may not compare to even a shade of your beauty, I do believe that nothing short of heaven would be worthy of resting atop your finger, nothing worth less than all my stars that I could command.” He says, as your knees grow weak and you find your hand shakes as you give it to him.

“Oh, Sir Ren.” You whisper, nodding, cannot even bring yourself to utter the word yes for you are so overwhelmed with his love.

And he grins, the most beautiful smile the world has ever seen, when he slides the ring onto your finger, when it is a perfect fit, when he grabs you about the middle and twirls you round and round, when the crowd erupts into cheers, when he leans his forehead down against yours and says,

“Call me Kylo.”

---------

The end! Tagging some pals, thank you all for going on this journey with me <333 @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @autumnlovesadam @solotriplets @driverficarchive @kylo-renne @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @joannapenguin @whiskey-bumblebee @passengereve @venusianmaiden @callmehopeless @sarcasticallyhateful @ilikebritsandbands @tinyplanet-explorers @kittyofalltrades @princessofpow @softcrybabykid @inkstaineddaughter @wonderneverland562 @magikevalynn @ellie-emb

#reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo/reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #medieval au #all my stars #my writing #part 3 #!!!

555 notes · View notes

lovecomedy · 5 years

Text

Fanfic recommendations nobody asked for

Those are my favorite wincest fic ever, just because. They are all complete. I’ll add the summaries together with my own two cents.

Consider the Hairpin Turn by cherie_morte. 27K Words

AU of 6x22: Sam's wall has shattered and the memories in his mind have splintered. When the Sam who remembers Hell tells him to go find Jess and be happy, Sam knows he can't stay while Dean needs him. But when the Sam from Hell says that Dean is already there looking for him, Sam leaves his memories of the pit behind to find him.

What he finds is a life he doesn't remember: a house that he shares with his brother (and has for years), a law career he thought he'd left behind at Stanford, and a relationship with Dean he never dreamed he could have. Life is almost too good to be true, at least until Sam begins to hear his brother's voice calling to him, begging him to wake up.

This is my favorite fic of all times. It’s beautifuly written. The way that it narrates Sam’s trauma of Hell is what keeps me coming back for more . Honestly it should be published as a book. Don’t worry, it has very happy scenes and there’s a happy ending

Welcome to the Neighborhood by ImogenPortchester. 2K Words

Dean thinks the new neighbors are interesting, but all is not what it seems.

Super short. Super heartbreaking.

Fics by leonidaslion

I mean first off, just read everything written by leonidaslion

Sing Your Hymns Like Angels In Defeat. 32K Words.

And Lucifer Fell for a second time with the burning brilliance of a star. The Flare shone in his wake, and darkness fell upon the land ...

Dean goes blind, and I love how it describes Dean’s stuggles with it. You feel like you’re blind with him. Really, really, REALLY well written. Should probably also be a book

Fumbling in the Dark: Love Advice For the Romantically Impaired. 72K

True Love really is blind...

It’s basically a character study of every single episode of the first 5 seasons, with a wincest twist. Slow burn. Holy shit, is it a slow burn.

Just Say My Name. 3K Words

Dean turns into a complete and utter nympho. It takes Sam a while to notice the difference.

Funny, lighthearted and porny

Hush. 2K Words

Motel walls are thin...

Discovery!kink. Sam and Dean try to have quiet sex while John is in the other room. At least, Dean is trying

Sam Winchester and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. 15K Words

Sometimes, you just shouldn't get out of bed in the morning ...

Fics by fleshflutter

Dark Side of the Moon. 20K Words

Cursed!Dean is deaf and blind. Sam deals.

The incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride. 48K Words

Sam is trying to become the Antichrist in order to save the world. He has a small army of angels and demons, he has an adoring cult, he has a work of prophecy by Jack Kerouac, and he has Dean. Things are going pretty well until he accidentally signs Dean up as his Beloved Consort, a role that requires sex with the Antichrist on an altar. And that's when things stop going pretty well. Also, the soundtrack to the Apocalypse sucks.

I don’t like crack fics, but goddamn this one is FUNNY. You can tell a lot of thought was put into this freaking masterpiece

Captured by the Game by rivkat. 54K Words

AU. Azazel has given his favorite son a task: worm his way into the confidence of a hunter. It sounds simple, but Dean Winchester just might be more than Sam can handle.

It wasn’t real by NaughtyPastryChef. 1K Words

Sam is trying to explain to Dean where he was when Dean was stuck in purgatory. It starts with "I hit a dog" and then, suddenly, inexplicably, they both know exactly where Sam was.

Wonderful explanation for that arc in season 8 nobody can stand. Plus, time travel, which I’m always a sucker for

Backseat of My Brother's 67 Chevy by NaughtyPastryChef. 1K Words

Extended scene from "Baby". Dean's feeling proud of Sam's hookup until he hears that Sam tried to give that waitress his number. Uncharacteristically, he lets Sam force him to talk about it.

Bury My Old Soul, and Dance on its Grave by dreamlittleyo. 2K Words

Dean knows how far he can push Sam.

Antichrist!Sam and Consort!Dean. Codependent winchesters. Yeah

Graveside Blues by hunenka. 3K Words

He uses his body like a blanket, like a shield.

I like how protective Sam is of Dean here, and it deals with something I don’t see a lot such as the jealousy he would have of Dean’s bond with Amara

own it by orphan_account. 6K Words

But he's never going to be able to burn the image of Sam cradling one hand around the perfect curve of Dean's face, dropping the other to the cut of Dean's hip (made for fingers and tongues to trail down, to taste), walking Dean backward until Dean is flush against the wall and Sam is flush against him. This is something that can't be denied.

John finds out. Explores the wonderful trope of both Sam and his father being possessive of Dean, and being very antagonistical to each other. Dysfunctional family yay. Also very porny

Fics by astolat

Punxsutawney. 9K Words

* astolat thinks any plot worth doing is worth doing TWICE

This is the Mistery Spot plot, but a little different. Sam AND Dean wake up to the same day over and over again. So they talk.

Kings and Queens and Jokers, Too. 4K Words

"Yeah, you boys nailed that trickster real good," Bobby said, dry as dust.

People are acting weird around the brothers. Can’t really say anything else without spoiling it. Listen just do yourself a favor and read it.

options. 500 Words

Decisions, decisions.

Short and funny. Little bit porny

Desired. 2K Words

He hadn't even known about any of this himself until Sam found it, figured it out for him. He hadn't known how it was going to be.

So, smut. They have a better time when Dean is the one who asks for it

Rockabye Sammy... by AnotherWorld3111. 1K Words

Sam can’t sleep, so Dean tries to help.

Sam keeps hallucinating Lucifer. Dean is worried and protective of him. Porny

We Know Each Other As We Always Were by mickeym. 45K Words

In 1941, while the world is at war, Sam Winchester falls in love with his brother. They're young, they're in love, and in spite of the hardships of life around them, the world is a pretty good one for them. Until Dec. 7th, 1941, when Japan launches an air attack on Pearl Harbor, sending the US to war against Japan. Dean Winchester feels he needs to join the Army; needs to help fight the good fight and help save lives. He promises he'll return, but can he keep that promise?

GAH this is so romantic! It’s an AU, but I feel like they’re very in character. It feels like a novel

For The End of My Broken Heart by Wickedtruth. 59K Words

Dad's disappeared and Sam's left to pick up the pieces of his broken brother. Post Devil's Trap AU.

Very codependent Winchesters. Also John finds out.

here at the end of all things by remy (iamremy). 40K Words

AU from Season 12 onwards. The British Men of Letters win in the USA, and slowly manage to establish their bases and authority over the whole country. They also capture Sam Winchester and keep him prisoner for eleven months, experimenting on him regularly before wiping his memories so that he has no idea what has been done to him.

Even after Dean rescues him and they begin planning to get revenge once and for all, the niggling doubt at the back of Sam's head remains -- what did they do to him? Why won't his anxiety get better? And what is it that he's missing?

Ok you got me, this is gen. But the whole fic feels like a (good) Supernatural episode, it’s so realistic and canon-like. The relationship between the brothers is just like the one we see on the show, meaning desperately codependent and wincest in every subtext.

Fics by deadlybride / zmediaoutlet

What I like about @zmediaoutlet is that she takes the time to write everyone in character. It’s always as canonical as possible and it feels real

femme. 4K Words

Rummaging around the internet, Dean finds a kink he hadn't seen before; Sam explains, and demonstrates.

I love feminization, but unfourtunately there’s only one fic that does it right, and it’s this one

gratification. 2K Words

It's not a compulsion. Dean just likes it.

breña. 1K Words

Sam and Dean wait, knowing what's coming.

The night before Sam jumps in the box

not the good things, nor the bad. 20K

Dean wavers in a grey area between being taken and giving in.

Part of it started with the kinks series, but you can read this just fine without the other parts. It deals very beautifully with Dean’s thoughts regarding his bond with Amara and his sexuality

DeMille Has Nothing On Us by HandsAcrossTheSea. 13K Words

"Hey Dean - wanna film it?"

This is part of the Those Hazy Days I Do Remember series, but you can 100% read it as a stand-alone, no problem. Sam and Dean film each other and this has that season 1 vibe, of just two brothers on the road. It’s slightly OOC, just because of how touchy-feely they are. But that’s something I sometimes wish we could have on the show, anyway

How many floors to realize by Lazy Daze. 26K Words

AU from the end of It’s A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren’t somewhat entertaining, right?”

Rabid by i-am-therefore-i-fight

Beautiful!! I love @i-am-therefore-i-fight‘s take on demon!dean. It’s different to what we’re used to. This fic is very angsty but has a happy ending

Bitten by a True Believer by kermiethefrog. 3K Words

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says. Flashes him a wicked grin, charcoal-eyes. The way he spreads out on Sam’s mattress, bare and offering himself up like Holy fucking Communion, drums heat under Sam’s skin, and he’s never sure if it’s arousal or anger when he’s faced with the demon. “Show me a good time, big guy.”

Another demon!dean fic. I like how even as he is a demon, he is still desperate for Sam’s attention

The Time Traveler's Brother by AmyPond45. 54K Words

Dean's life is turned upside down the night his mother dies. But that's also the night a mysterious grown-up version of Dean's brother first appears in his life. While Dean grows up, "Old Sam" is often there, especially when Dean's father isn't. As Dean learns what the future holds, he begins to question everything his father has taught him about who he is and what he is supposed to become. Can Dean find a way to save his little brother from his own future?

This is based on The Time Traveler’s Wife, which is my favorite book. Don’t worry, you don’t have to have read it to understand this fic

need against need against need by dollylux. 5K Words

Jack spends his first night in the bunker with Sam and Dean. (Jack POV)

Don’t worry, Jack just watches and ponders about the Winchester’ realationship

the centre cannot hold by orphan_account. 6K Words

Sam does not remember; Dean does. All Dean can do is watch, and mourn.

But then Castiel becomes God, and the world starts to break at the edges (and maybe that isn't a bad thing.)

It kinda becomes a character study, while the brothers deal with what happened during the Soulless!Sam period

The Last Temptation by bccalling. 1K Words

When Sam tells Mary about all the things he and Dean get up to in the dark, Mary wants in, and Sam sees his opportunity to make Dean’s every fantasy come true.

Mary shows up. Porny and very sweet

Angels and Demons by OhWilloTheWisp. 9K Words

AU angels and demons are animals. Sam was not happy when his owner, Ruby, left him boarded at a kennel. He was even less happy when he discovered an angel in the same facility. But his encounter with the angel will end much differently than anyone would have guessed. He may have never expected his mate to be angel, but now that's found him he won't let anyone keep them apart.

Sam and Dean are kinda like animals here but there’s nothing sexual. It’s very sweet and romantic. Anna/Ruby in here as well

#wincest #fic rec #leonidaslion #fleshflutter #astolat #full house of wincest #bottom!dean #zmediaoutlet

176 notes · View notes

kayteewritessteve · 5 years

Text

Secrets and Sins - 9/13

Description: You flee from an abusive situation and find yourself on the other side of the country, creating new friends and possibly finding new love. But will you be able to escape your past? To truly move on with your life? Or will everything come crashing down around you in the blink of an eye?

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 4,250

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Curse words. Brief mentions of abusive behaviour, and moments of abuse—nothing to in depth but could be upsetting to some. Plus possible other triggering thoughts and feelings described.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors, so there’s that.

You woke up to the bright sunlight shinning in through the large panelled bedroom windows. You were still wrapped up like a human taco in the blankets, in the exact same place you had fallen asleep in. Making you instantly realize you’d obviously slept so well, so deeply, that you hadn’t even moved a damn muscle all night. You reached your arms up above your head to stretch, while your toes pointed in the other direction. The motion causing the blankets to shift sightly, which sent a waft of a now very familiar scene up at you. You breathed in deeply and sighed out contently, as the smell of Steve engulfed you, and took over all your senses. You hadn’t noticed, in your tired state the night before, just how much the shirt smelt like him.

You pulled the neck hem up to your nose and took another deep breath, the smell calmed you even more. He had such a unique scent, it was manly, yet refined, with a hint of musky undertones. Whatever his cologne was, he should never change it, as it suited him, perfectly.

You felt wonderful this morning. Well rested and refreshed. However, your stretching had made you acutely aware of your urgent need for a bathroom. You wondered what time it was, so you lifted your head up to look for your purse, realizing that you’d left it downstairs, with your phone still in it. Shit. Okay, game plan time. First you’d need to find a bathroom, that was priority one, then you’d need to go get your purse.

You rubbed your eyes then pulled yourself out of your plush cocoon, and finally took in the room around you.

And of course it was just as stunning as the rest of the house. Because why wouldn’t it be? You laughed softly to yourself, as you pictured your still ridiculously empty apartment, and the air mattress you currently had as a bed.

You padded across the floor to the door and opened it slowly to peer out. Noticing Steve’s door was closed, and you didn’t hear any voices from around the house. Or at least within ear shot, because this place was fucking huge. You opened the door fully then tiptoed out and to the top of the stairs.

You leaned over the edge to scope things out and still didn’t hear or see anyone. But you did notice the open door to the right of the front door. You could just see a sink through it, figuring that must be a pounder room. You quietly made your way down the stairs, being extra vigilant for any noises or movements around you, as you went. You got to the powder room and slipped in, flicking on the lights and closing the door softly behind you.

Once you were done, you entered back out into the foyer, as you once again didn’t hear any sounds. Nothing at all. The house was a ghost town.

At this point you figured you were probably either the only one up, or maybe even the only one home. You hadn’t exactly asked Steve if he had plans today, so he could have very well gone out, and just left you here to rest.

You made your way towards the kitchen, entering it to see your purse, still on the counter where you’d left it. You ventured over to grab it and pulled your phone out, finding a new message from Wanda that read, ‘Hey girly, how was your day off? You free later?’

You snorted out a chuckle at that. Your day had started off great but then quickly went to complete and total shit, only to then end up really great again. You shook your head and glanced around at the massive kitchen with adjoining living room.

And you were about to pinch yourself, because this couldn’t be real, could it? You couldn’t have actually spent the night in thee King of New York's massive ass house, could you? Well, clearly you had. Shit, talk about a damn plot twist. You fired off a quick text back to Wanda, ‘It was interesting. I’ll tell you about it another time. As for if I’m free, I honestly don’t know, I’ll have to get back to you on that!’

You were about to make your way out of the kitchen, that is, until you heard the front door open, and a few voices echoing loudly through the house. Shit. You froze and instantly started looking for somewhere to hide. As you hadn’t gotten a full tour of the house yet, you honestly weren’t sure what doors led to where. You spun around a couple times looking for an escape, anything, but then stopped searching when you realized the voices were closer now. Much, much closer. So close that they were probably standing right behind you, in the kitchen archway.

You slowly turned around and were met with 4 sets of eyes, all staring silently at you. Except their eyes weren’t looking at you, per se, but instead locked on something low on your body. You looked down to see what they were staring at, and—instantly remembered you didn’t have any pants on. Fuck. You quickly grabbed on to the bottom of Steve’s shirt, tugging it down your legs as far as you could, before awkwardly looking back up at them all.

A brunette woman, the same one from the night before, spun around and swatted at the three guys. “Okay, shows over. You can all fuck off now,” she said as she continued to swat them away. Two of the men jokingly flinching away like she was hitting them hard, but then they all turned and quickly walked off.

Once they were out of sight she turned back to you, with a sweet smile on her face, “Y/N, I’m Maria, it’s a pleasure to finally, actually, meet you.” She laughed and walked towards you with her hand extended out.

Maria. Right, the one Steve assigned to watch you.

You shook her hand, “It’s nice to meet you too,” you looked down at your clothes again—or the lack thereof, then glanced back up. “I do wish I’d been wearing pants for this moment though,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay, nothing I haven’t seen before,” she froze, eyes widening. “I don’t mean you, personally. I haven’t seen you like this before—“

You laughed loudly and waved a hand around to dismiss her concerns, “It’s okay, I totally know what you meant.”

She smiled, “Okay, good! And sorry about the guys, I swear they are all really good dudes, mostly, they just clearly don’t see half naked woman that often.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to respond, you heard someone clear their throat behind Maria, and looked up to see Steve now standing in the archway, frozen, with Bucky and another man right behind him. What is this, a damn house party now? Of course you’d be the only one at said ‘party’ with no damn pants on. You groaned softly as Maria turned to see what you were looking at. Then she laughed wildly, “Okay, let’s go get you some pants before the whole house turns into a gawking mess.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you nodded your response. Not missing Steves eyes travelling the length of your body though, as he took in your near nakedness in front of him. Subtle, he was not. But you then noticed that Bucky, and the other man, had both done 180’s, and now had their backs to you. Clearly trying their hardest to not be apart of this whole awkward interaction. Or maybe they were just being respectful. Either way, you were glad for the less eyes on you.

Maria went to lead you out of the kitchen, which meant you would have to walk directly passed Steve, Bucky and the other man. Who had all now backed up into the hall to let you both by. The two still facing away from you. And Steve still very much staring at you, with something in his eye that made your heart flutter. Just a bit. And part of you was positive that, if there hadn’t been anyone else around, he would have pick you up, right there and then, thrown you over his shoulder, and carried your ass upstairs to show you just what he thought of you, half naked, in his shirt. The thought instantly sent a pleasant chill down your spin.

You slowly walked passed him into the hall, “morning,” you greeted with a smirk. Figuring to just own this whole awkward situation, as best you could at least.

He cleared his throat and you swore you saw a blush on his face as he spoke. “Morning,” he greeted back with an awkward head nod. You made a mental note that you could, in fact, fluster him in return. Vowing to use that intel at a later date. And fucking often.

You giggled to yourself as you continued on your way to your room. Knowing full well that his eyes were still on you, you could damn near feel them on your back. So you played up your walk a bit, wiggling your hips just a little as you went. Might as well give him something to look at—Well, ya know, besides you in just his shirt.

Once you got into the foyer, Maria picked up a few bags and followed you up the stairs to your room. You both entered it and she began to speak, “Steve asked me to go collect your clothes from your apartment this morning.” She put the bags down on the bed, “I hope you don’t mind that I did, it just isn’t safe for you to return home yet.”

You looked at her, “Ah, thank you. And it’s fine, I sort of needed them.” You laugh softly and then looked down at the bags, “So, when do you think I’ll be able to return home?” You asked.

“That I don’t know. You’d have to talk to Steve. But I’ll leave you to get changed, I’ll be down stairs in the kitchen when your finished,” she smiled.

But just as she went to turn away, “Maria wait,” you said. She stopped and turned back to you. “I just, I wanted to say thank you for last night.” You paused and played with the hem of Steve’s shirt again, “Ah, actually, I guess for more then just last night.” You finished and looked back up at her.

She shook her head, “No thank you’s necessary, it’s my job.”

“I know, but still, thank you. For everything,” you gestured around the room with both hands, before abruptly dropping them back to your side, when you realized the action lifted the shirt higher up your thighs.

A part of you had wanted to ask her what they did with the shit brick house, from last night. But another part of you didn’t really want, nor care, to know what they had done with him. What you did know for sure, was that you’d probably never see him again, and that’s all that mattered, really.

She smiled and gave you a quick nod then exited the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You opened the bags to look for an outfit to wear. Quickly throwing on a pair of black leggings, a white tank top and a light grey oversized sweater. Today was your second, and last, day off of work, and you were not down with tight clothes today. You just wanted to be comfy.

Now dressed your next mission was coffee, and stat. You headed back downstairs and to the kitchen once again. Finding Maria there making a pot of the glorious life juice.

“Oh, thank god,” you sighed happily as you went to sit on a bar stool. Hearing Maria chuckle over her shoulder at your excited reaction.

“I’m guessing you’re a coffee drinker?”

“More like a coffee addict,” you laughed.

She laughed with you, “Then you’ll fit right in here.”

Just as you were about to speak again, a loud group of men came wandering into the kitchen. You recognized Bucky first, along with his ‘back to you’ buddy from earlier. And then the guy from last night—the one that was helping Maria with your attacker. And then the three guys from earlier, that Mara shooed away.

Bucky came over and leaned his elbows on the counter in front of you, “Morning, doll, glad to see you found some pants,” he joked.

You burst out laughing then replied, “In my defence, I didn’t think anyone was home.”

“Suuuuuure,” he rolled his eyes, playfully, then smirked, “that’s what they all say.”

You froze, entirely, then looked down at your hands clasped together on the counter, as your brows furrowed together at his comment. ‘What they all say’? What was that supposed to mean? You’d be silly to think you were the first woman Steve had ever brought home. Durp. Of course there had been others. But at the same time, was that all you were to him, just another woman in the endless parade of women? Were you just working your way up to being another notch in his belt? If that was the case then you weren’t interested in that. At all. You refused to just be a random number in some man's life. Regardless of who that man was. Fuck no, not your thing.

“Good job, Barnes. You already managed to piss her off and it’s not even 10 am yet.”

Your eyes snapped up to look at the man now talking, the one from earlier that had his back to you along with Bucky. He slapped the aforementioned man upside the head as he walked passed him, and around the kitchen island to you, extending his hand out once he got close enough. “Hey, I’m Samuel. But my friends call me Sam.” And you instantly recognized the name, he was Steve’s other best friend, the one Nat had told you about.

“What friends?” Bucky scoffed as he looked around at the other guys.

That caused Sam to roll his eyes, “not you, that’s for sure,” he shot back.

You just laughed and reached out to shake his hand, “ah, hi, I’m Y/N.” you smiled, cheekily, “But my friends just call me Y/N.”

He laughed then looked over to Bucky, “I like this one.” Then he turned back to you again, “And I know your name, Y/N. I’ve heard lots about you,” he said with a wink. But they way he said it peaked your curiosity, what did he mean by ‘lots’?—“Let me introduce you to the guys, since someone,” he gives Bucky a pointed glare, “forgot to do that. So that fuckhead, as you already know, is Bucky. Just ignore him—that’s what the rest of us do.” He leaned in and whispered the last part.

Which caused Bucky to instantly feign offence, “I heard that! And that cuts deep, Wilson.”

He just rolled his eyes then pointed to the guy from last night, “That’s Vis.”

He smiled at you and you smiled back, “Thank you, for last night.”

He just nodded, “it was no bother, really, it’s my job.”

Then Sam pointed to one of the three guys from earlier, “That’s Clint.” Who waved and smiled broadly at you.

Then he pointed to the another, “That’s Bruce.” Who just nodded his head, with a shy smile.

Then he pointed to the final guy, “and the kid is Peter.” Who scoffed and mumbled, “I’m not a kid,” but then quickly gave you a giant smile and a fast ‘hello’.

You smiled at all of them then Maria piped up. “Alright guys, coffee's ready,” she glared and pointed at the men, “but remember your manners, guests first.”

A couple of the guys groaned and you giggled at that, as you got up off your chair, and went to go make a cup of coffee quickly, as to not make the guys wait any longer.

Once you had it made up, you went to sit back down to enjoy the freshly brewed cup of liquid heaven.

All the men then made their coffees and trickled out of the room, one by one. Leaving just you and Maria, after a few minutes. You took a careful sip of your coffee, then held it with both hands in front of you, smelling the sweet aroma of it as Maria joined you at the counter, sitting on a bar stool to your right.

“Is it always this crazy around here?” You asked.

“Yeah, for the most part,” she shrugged, “you get used to it. This place is sort of like a clubhouse. All of us spend our free time here, a few of us even live here.”

“Oh,” you turned to looked at her, “Other people live here besides Steve?”

“Yeah. Bucky has a room down the hall, by Steve’s office. Peggy stays in the suite above the garage. Sam, Clint and Peter have rooms upstairs. Bruce and myself have rooms downstairs. We’re like a giant family, and it’s safer if we all stay together.”

You gaped, wide eyed at her for a moment, “Jesus. How many rooms does this place have?”

“Ah,” she thought about it for a moment. “10,” she finally replied with a nod.

“Holy, this place is massive,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” She laughed, “and each bedroom has its own bathroom.”

You froze then burst out laughing, “Does every room actually have a bathroom?”

She looked confused and you quickly added, “I didn’t realize my room had one this morning, that is sort of why I ended up in the kitchen, without pants on.”

“Oh,” she dragged out the word then laughed again, “it all makes so much more sense now.”

Just then Steve came walking into the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. He paused in the archway for a moment and smiled at you, then wandered over to the coffee maker and started to prepare a cup. You and Maria both just remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt his call. He would reply here and there with the odd, ‘Yup’ or ‘uh huh’. Clearly whoever he was talking to liked the sound of their own voice.

But then he abruptly spun around to look at you, and covered the phones mic with his hand, before pulling the phone away from his ear to whisper, “What size dress do you wear?”

You furrowed your brows then replied with your dress size. Being super confused as to why he was even asking. He took his hand away from the mic and returned the phone to his ear, then said your dress size into it before he turned, picked up his coffee, and left the room. With no explanation as to why he just told some rando your dress size.

Brows still furrowed you turned to look at Maria, mumbling, “The fuck?”

But all she did was shrug and chuckle as she continued to sip her coffee. You shook your head then did the same, both of you falling into an oddly comfortable silence.

After you both finished your coffees, Maria offered to show you around the place. Turns out it was way, way bigger than you’d originally thought. It had a putting green on the roof, for crying out loud. Plus multiple living rooms and dining rooms, a huge laundry room, the two previously stated kitchens, a pool out back, a bowling alley down stairs along with a games room, a movie theatre and a gym.

The only parts of the home you didn’t get to see were the other bedrooms, Steve’s office—though she showed you where it was—and the suite above the garage, where some woman named Peggy lived.

“Maria,” you asked as you made your way back up to the main floor, she hummed for you to continue, “Can I ask who Peggy is?”

“Of course, she was Sarah’s best friend. When Steve’s father died, Peg moved in to help Sarah raise Steve. She is sort of like a second mom to him.”

“I’m guessing Sarah was Steve’s actual mom?” You questioned, quietly.

“Yep, and she was a truly amazing woman. Like a second mom to all of us, she was the glue around here, kept us all together. Losing her hit all of us pretty hard.” She paused for a moment to clear her throat. You guessed speaking about Sarah was a soft spot, most likely for all of them. And made a mental note to not ask about her anymore, just in case. “But when she passed, Steve refused to let Peg move out. He was worried something might happen to her, and he wanted her to continue to live here. That way he knew she was safe, and could just live out her days, comfortably. You’ll probably get a chance to meet her soon.” You just nodded in response as you both neared the top of the stairs into the foyer.

Once you were both in the entryway, the front door opened and two woman walked in. One was older, slightly greying hair, wearing a pretty red dress. The other was younger, around your age, with blonde hair, wearing jeans and a loose white top—Oh, and a wicked resting bitch face. Which was currently directed entirely at you.

“Oh, Maria,” the younger one said in such a mock sweet voice, that even you could tell it was fake, but then she quickly changed her tone to a sneer, “Who’s your little friend.” As she looked you up and down then smiled, but you could tell it was also fake, disapproving even.

You looked at Maria who just rolled her eyes, which almost made you burst out laughing. “A guest of Steves,” she responded coolly.

The younger woman huffed then crossed her arms. Just as you saw her opened her mouth to speak, the older woman beat her to it. “Oh, you must be Y/N,” she said as she walked towards you, “It’s a pleasure to meet you dear, I’m Peggy,” she said warmly—which was a polar opposite response then the other woman’s.

She reached out her hand to shake yours. And you smiled politely back then shook her hand, “It’s nice to meet you as well, Peggy.”

“And this is Sharon, my niece,” She said as she turned to gesture to the still clearly irritated younger woman.

Before you could say anything more you heard footsteps coming down the hall, and you turned just as Steve came around the corner. He halted his steps instantly and looked at you, before his eyes flicked over your shoulder, to the other two woman standing behind you.

“Oh Stevie, there you are,” you heard Sharon purr as her footsteps came up behind you now. “We just had the pleasure of meeting your friend,” she said, and you could hear the disdain in her voice. And damn near feel the stab of her words, ‘your friend.’ They felt like what you assumed a knife in your back would feel like.

Steve sighed, “What are you doing here, Sharon?” The irritation in his voice wasn’t hard to miss.

“I came to see you, we have to prepare for the fundraiser gala tomorrow night,” she said as she reached out to touch his forearm. But he abruptly pulled it away and glared at her, making her freeze in place, “What’s wrong, Stevie?”

Just then Maria quietly excused herself then headed back downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at her, as if begging her to take you with, but she just smirked and shook her head, then disappeared down the stairs. Fucking traitor.

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you spun on your heel, quickly saying, “On that note.” Then beelined it up the stairs to your room. Wanting to get as far away from, whatever the fuck that was, as fast as you could. You reached your room and shut the door softly behind you, before moving the bags off your bed to the floor and flopping down on your stomach.

Who the fuck was that woman to him? And why the fuck did seeing her try to touch him piss you off so damn much? Hearing her talk to him like that? You groaned into the bed then rolled over, onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. Why the fuck am I even here?

Then your mind drifted back to what Bucky had said earlier. Were you just another potential notch? Did he have lots of woman in his life? Were you stupid to believe that he just wanted you, and only you? He is the King of New York for crying out loud. There’s no way he’d be happy with just one woman. With just you. He was ridiculously handsome after all, he probably had multiple girlfriends, ones that would most likely always be around—and fuck that. You weren’t down to be a damn sister-wife. You laughed bitterly. Why do you even fucking care so much? You shook your head then pulled out your phone, opening the text window with Wanda. Quickly typing, ‘Wan’s, where are you right now?’

Your phone pinged, ‘Just leaving my dads shop, you home?’

‘No, I’m gonna call yo— but just as you were typing out your message there was a knock on your door.

You froze for a second, contemplating if you should answer it or not, but then whoever it was knocked again, more urgently. You quickly backspaced your text and typed, ‘No, I’ll call you in a bit, kay?’ then hit send and dropped your phone onto the bed.

You huffed and pulled yourself up, hearing the phone ping again just as you reached the door. Opening it to see Steve standing on the other side, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other on his hip.

“Can I come in?” He asked softly, as his blue eyes locked with yours.

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

@hopefulmoonobject @harlequinash @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies

474 notes · View notes

alliswell21 · 5 years

Text

Unmasked ~ Eighteen

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Also my thanks to @alliswell21 and everyone else who has offered up their inbox for submissions. Please enjoy the eighteenth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

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

~~ Chapter 18 ~~

The Harvest Festival lasts slightly longer than two weeks and usually provides us with a healthy income to sustain us through winter and well into spring. It is the culmination of three seasons of overlapping plantings, crop maintenance, and harvest. Hours upon hours of work. Everdeen becomes a hive of life with visitors from all across Southeastern Panem and sometimes even further. Booths are set up for the sale of wares and food treats. There are games for the children to play and contests for the adults. Planting the bulbs that will weather the winter in soil and hopefully flourish in spring carries a festive air in the task, as though we are planting the seeds of hope for the bounty of the present year to carry over into the next. In the evenings, the world comes alive with music and dancing, the lively reels and jigs of country tunes rather than the stuffier songs of the city and high society. Other than spring, it is my favourite time of year.

All through the day, I am occupied with sales and bargaining. Talking with tenants and people who need my attention. Normally my father would handle most of this while I stand beside him. This year, Father is busy dancing with nearly every female in Everdeen, from my mother down to Sae, leaving the bulk of the real work to me. It is heartening to see him so happy, waving away Dr. Aurelius’ concerns and insisting that he has never felt better.

When I mention this to Peeta, who has not left my side all day, he smiles. “Katniss, he is handing Everdeen to you. You have kept it running nearly an entire year. This festival is all due to you. It is your harvest.”

I am not certain how to feel about that and loop my arm through Peeta’s as we watch the festivities. My foot taps to the beat, but I know better than to ask Peeta for a dance, despite my longing to join. I do not wish to cause him discomfort, no matter that I could never feel shame or embarrassment when partnered with him.

As the night winds down, I find that I am exhausted. Once I am changed for sleep and laid out on the sofa in our room, my head resting on Peeta’s thighs as he reads through correspondence he left neglected today. His fingers comb through my hair, mine trace absent patterns on his knee, yet I can tell that something bothers him.

“What news, husband?”

“A friend. From the infantry. He has returned home to troubles. His brother passed, leaving the land to him. It took some time for him to return home and in the absence of a landlord, a large number of the tenants left. He’s in need of hands to help harvest or his wheat crop will be left to die in the fields.”

I pause in my aimless drawing on his knee and consider this. The answer is evident, and I know Peeta has already reached the same conclusion, much as we both dislike it. “How far?”

“The southern half of East Panem. With a hard day of riding Cicero, I could be there in a day.”

“You should go,” I say quietly.

“And miss the festival? Katniss, I do not wish to leave you.” I sit up then, to face him, maintaining as much of a stoic expression as I can manage.

“Nor do I wish you to leave. However,” I say before he can argue. “We will be quite fine here. The Harvest Festival is perhaps the easiest part of running Everdeen, and you will regret not going to his aid if you remain.”

Peeta tilts his head as he examines me and I smile, overcome with affection for my husband. I trace the scars on his face and then lean forward to kiss the edge of them, down along his jaw. “You never told me how you came by these marks.”

“Musket fired too close to the ground while I was seeing to a wounded drummer. Had to move us both to safety before I could continue, and you know what burning clothes stuck to skin can cause.”

“Hm,” I kiss down his throat, already plotting how to persuade him to take me to bed. “When will you leave to help your friend?”

“Tomorrow, I should think,” he says, the anguish in his voice a mirror of the pain in my heart. “He sounds in desperate need.”

“You should offer additional work and pay to several of our tenants. Take extra hands with you.”

“If that is alright with you.”

“Ask for volunteers. How long will you be gone?”

“I will not be gone longer than two weeks, I should think.”

“Then I shall see you back here before the end of the festival.”

“Yes,” he gasps as I shift to straddle him and press my body into his to feel how aroused he is already.

“Is that a promise, husband?”

“It is a promise, wife.”

“Promise me you will dance with me when you return? Just once, Peeta. It can be a slow tune.”

“Katniss,” he groans as I sink my teeth into his shoulder. He curses and promises me a dance.

My mind grasps onto the thought that now would be the perfect time to say it. To tell Peeta of my thoughts just this morning. Three such simple words that he uttered in the dark as though they were no more heavy than an exhale. But did he? Or did I dream the soft sigh of his love against my brow? I do not know, I was barely awake. I bite my tongue and kiss him instead, wild and uninhibited.

Peeta gathers me in his arms then, holding me close to his chest as he heaves us off the sofa and carries me across the room to our bed. I whine slightly, perturbed at being moved, but as he lays me on our mattress, I grasp hold of him and make demands.

As always, he readily gives me what I want. What I need. Clothes and wooden leg discarded on the floor. Whispered words and pleas, and a dance in the darkness. For what is intercourse but a series of bodily movements in harmony…a dance. I demand that he give me more and the creaking of our bed gives evidence to the desperate meeting of our bodies, almost violent in our need.

His hand clenches in my hair, twisting it around his fist, pulling tight against my scalp and bending my body. His moans roll over my skin as he plunges into me again and again. The short bursts of pain cause strange ripples of pleasure that overwhelm and steal my breath. He is holding back, waiting for me to succumb first. It is this knowledge combined with the sound of my name on his lips, a desperate breath of utter longing, that tips me over the edge into blissful, rapturous oblivion.

The rest of the world falls away to nothing as I revel in my release, in the feel of Peeta’s triumphant shout against my neck before he begins to thrust madly. I wonder for one second if we might break the bed and then he stops, his back arched and his head thrown back in exquisite relief, his abdomen clenching and his fingers tight in my hair.

The way he holds me after provides such an exquisite contrast. So perfectly gentle and soothing. His whispers are more effective in drawing me down into deep slumber than a lullaby, and yet…and yet…

My dreams that night are wild and reckless. A man cloaked in shadows and moonlight illuminating only part of his face, unending pleasure stemming from his touch. He takes pleasure from me like an animal, on all fours with his fingers digging into soft flesh, mine holding tight to bed linens and my throat dry with screams of pleasure I cannot voice for fear of waking the whole house. Whatever he takes from me, he gives back tenfold. The crazed thrusting of uncontrollable lust reaching deep inside me to places I’d never known a man could touch.

Then he takes me with his mouth, my legs splayed wide, immodest and desperate, pinned to our bed beneath his strong hands. The delicate scrape of his tongue on me, marking me. Branding me as his as I shatter again and again. And again. It is as though he is determined to ensure that I cannot forget him in his absence.

I am certain my legs have become useless until he settles me on top of him and I become the one crazed and desperate in motion. I long to tell him that I could never forget him. He has rooted himself in my heart, seared himself beneath my skin where I could no more remove my love for him than I can my own scars. But speech proves impossible for me.

Yet, in the moments when I am coherent enough to recognise the blue eyes watching me as I dance over his body with abandon, I capture the words he moans to me in his ecstasy and hold them close to my heart.

Yours.

I’m yours, Katniss.

Yours, yours, yours.

Everything I am is yours.

Always.

And…

I love you.

… I love you so…desperately…deeply…

I reach a final, tremendous peak with those words floating in the sultry air around us and then dreams yield their hold to the dark, blissful oblivion of restful, dreamless slumber.

In the morning, I am alone. The window shut against a driving autumn rain, and a single orange flower left for me atop of Peeta’s sketchbook, tied to it with a green ribbon. I haven’t the heart to look at the drawing he left me just yet, knowing that there will be no more for some time.

Then the evidence that my dreams last night were far more real than they were imagined begins to accumulate. My wild hair and the nearly wrecked state of the linens on our bed. The teeth and suction marks on my shoulders and breasts and even the back of my neck, the throbbing ache between my thighs. The ten round bruises on my hips where Peeta would have grasped hold of me as he loved me from behind, savage and wild and beautiful. Another set on my thighs where he would have held my legs secure to the bed while he made love to me with his mouth, again and again. My knees weaken at the very thought of it.

Worst of all, though, is the hollow feeling in my breast as I rise and move to the window and know. Peeta’s gone. He left before I could tell him that I love him too. How stupid of me not to reciprocate the words when he spoke them last night.

I rest my forehead on the cool glass, holding the sheet from our bed wrapped around me, my shoulders and my feet bare, hair a wild tangle down my back until Mary finds me like that.

“Mrs. Mellark?” she says my name like a question and I lift my chin. I am not some sniveling, weak willed, lovesick schoolgirl. And I will not act like one.

Peeta will return within the fortnight. I can tell him then. He promised me he would, and if I know one thing about my husband it is that he can be trusted to keep his promises.

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

“This is good,” I say as my eyes skim over the written out history. It is far more thorough than I could have hoped. “Could she have returned to any of these places?”

“It is unlikely. She seems to have stayed for as long as she could,” Haymitch says and taps one line near the bottom. My cheeks burn as I realise what he is trying to tell me without saying it.

“Oh no. The poor thing.” I glance up at my uncle as he fixes me in place with a penetrating gaze.

“You are not appalled?”

“I am only appalled at the lengths women must sometimes go to in order to feed and house both themselves and the ones they love,” I say as I fold the pages of parchment together. “There are three years missing yet in your history for her.”

“I have some leads to fill that hole. I shall keep looking…unless you wish to stop. We may only find worse things than this”

“No,” I say and glance briefly over the crowd that has gathered for the afternoon games. The rain did not last long enough to force a cancellation of the festivities. The muddy fields have in fact drawn more people, it seems. Those eager for the fresh air and the tempting scents of meat pies on the cool autumn breeze. Children play, ignoring parental sighs that they will need another bath if they are not careful.

“No,” I repeat to Haymitch. “I want to find her, if she still lives. And the child.”

Haymitch scoffs at this and I scowl at him. “You think that wise?”

“You think Peeta would want to leave his half sister to suffer in an orphanage somewhere? Or worse?”

“There is no knowing who the child’s father is, nor what she has grown to become. She would be nearly seven by now.”

“I am aware of that.”

“It is also possible that your husband already knows of her existence and chose to do nothing…”

My neck heats as I consider the possibility but then I shake my head. “No. He would not. If he knows, then he has been searching for her as well. Which leads me to believe he does not know.”

“You will not be able to keep your search secret from him much longer if you are determined to save both,” Haymitch says with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Perhaps combining our efforts will produce faster results then. When he returns, can you provide him with your contacts?” Haymitch grunts, but he nods in agreement.

I wonder how on earth I am supposed to explain to Peeta that he has a sister, and that I already plan on adopting her, if possible. She belongs with her family, and if she has none now, then her family is here at Everdeen. And how am I to explain the existence of the child without shattering his heart? How to tell him that his mother was reduced to prostitution for a number of years. My heart aches at the thought of it and it is the only reason that I hope he already found this piece of his mother’s journey, so that I will not be the one breaking his heart.

The child will be easier to locate than the mother, it seems, and so I tell Haymitch to focus on that for now. “But we are not conceding defeat on finding Nancy, do you understand?”

“I understand completely,” Haymitch tells me with a strange look in his eyes. Before I can summon a retort, my sister calls for me.

“Katniss, I need to speak with you.”

“Can it wait?” I ask as I notice the massive hay bales being rolled in for the next contest. I am meant to judge who is able to secure and lift their bale the fastest. It occurs to me that it is a shame Peeta is missing this particular contest. With the strength in his arms, he would excel at a contest such as this.

“No it cannot wait,” Prim insists.

I sigh and motion for her to speak. I am developing a headache. Peeta has been gone four days already with no word from him, Haymitch has brought me both good news and complications in our search, and Maysilee is recovering from a slight fever. While the festival at least is a resounding success, it still leaves me drained. At the end of the day, I toss and turn, unable to find sleep despite my fatigue. The empty space in my bed taunts me with unspoken words and fears I cannot explain. The drawing he left me was of me as I slept, the words along the bottom of the page nearly bringing tears to my eyes.

Leaving you is near impossible, and so I go while you still sleep. Had you opened your eyes before I left, and looked at me as you have done these past days, I might never muster the will to depart. Yours always, ~ P ~

“I’ve had a letter from Rory,” Prim’s words intrude on my musings.

“Are we on a given name basis with him now then?” I ask, a little testy. She frowns at me and then I notice her quivering lip.

“I do not know anymore. I told him of your plans to take me to Capitol for a season and now I fear he is withdrawing his interest!”

“Mother and Father agreed to the season as well. Pester them about this,” I mutter and she huffs angrily.

“They only agreed because you insisted! It’s not my fault you regret how your husband hunt turned out. Do you know what Rory said to me about this whole season and more suitors for me fiasco?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” she says and I nod.

“If he cannot handle the competition for your hand then his affections are not strong enough to last.” The competitors for the game have taken their places and I give the signal to begin.

Prim chokes on a sob. “I don’t want to him to have competition! I want to marry him! And you’ve frightened him off!”

“Prim,” I say as I turn to her and her watery eyes slice through me. I cannot stand to see her in pain. Perhaps this season idea was a poor decision, but she agreed to it, seemed eager even until now.

“All because you’re not in love with your husband! That does not mean that I will be miserable with my choice, nor do you need to make me miserable with mine! He was going to propose on his next visit, I am sure of it, and now he won’t!” She spins on her heel then, headed straight for the floor as bales of hay slowly rise.

“Prim!” I shout after her but she does not respond.

There’s a shout of warning and then one of the bales descends, the rope sliding through grasping hands and more yells fill the air. I run for her but I am too far away. Joe reaches her first, shoving Prim out of the way of the hay before it crashes to the ground. It disintegrates in a fragrant cloud. Several hands grasp hold of the rope at the same time and heave. With no weight, the hook swings free and wild.

A warning lodges in my throat as it flies up towards Joe and slices him straight up his spine.

He shouts and falls to the ground beside Prim as pandemonium breaks loose. Prim reaches for Joe, crying out apologies and attempting to see to his wound. Joe begins to screech.

“Hands off, witch! Devil take you and your herbs! I’ll not let you drag me to hell!”

Prim retreats as I glower at the man’s display. Everyone steps back from him as he holds his torn jacket and shirt together and waves a bloody hand at us to keep us distant. He raves about witches and sorcery. We are all too stunned to know what to do.

Madge pushes her way through the crowd and slaps Joe across the face. “Cease, man! I am no witch. Come with me and stop making a fuss!”

She grabs Joe by the arm and drags him away. He goes, surprisingly docile. I hurry to Prim’s side, although Mother and Father are already with her.

“I am fine,” she insists, taking their help to stand. The crowd around us whispers and wavers in shock and uncertainty. “But Joe…”

I squeeze Prim’s hand. “I will assist Madge.”

I scurry to follow them, leaving Prim with Father and Mother seeing to her. I pass by Haymitch as he tries to calm a near hysterical Effie and I leave him to it. Assured of Prim’s well being, I care for nothing but my husband’s injured friend — a friend who just saved my sister’s life, although I am certain he despises me.

I am able to follow their trail, a handprint left here and there that leads me to the house, to the bathing room. I fetch Mother’s healing kit along the way and enter the room, gasping and nearly dropping the basket as I take in the sight before me.

“Oh wonderful. Kitten has decided to join us,” Joe snarls as I stare at him…or rather… her…

Torn, bloody bindings and clothes litter the floor. Joe sits on the bench beside the tub, facing me, stripped bare to the waist. Madge bends over her back, her eyes wide as she stares at me.

“Katniss… shut the door,” she says in a wavering voice. I do so, too shocked to do differently. I lock it for good measure and gape, my mind grasping at connections and hints that line up with dizzying speed.

“You… you…”

“I have breasts,” Joe states. “Quite nice ones, too.” She fondles them for a second and smirks at me. “I can understand you gaping at them. I have all of the other baggage that comes with being a woman in this world as well. Would you care to see?”

“I…” I have no idea what to say.

“I could use your help, Katniss.” Madge’s words bring me to my senses. “I’m quite good at sewing but have never sewn human flesh and… I do not know what herbs we will need.”

“Are you certain your patient will accept such witchcraft?” I ask and Joe gasps with pain and shuts her eyes for a moment before leveling me with a fierce look.

“I meant no insult to your sister. She has been nothing but kind to me. And I will… I will apologize to her later. But I could not let them discover me in such a public manner.”

“You had better apologize. You caused a shameful scene,” Madge scolds and Joe turns slightly to glare at her.

“And you slapped me, your highness!”

“I needed to get you out of there before you revealed yourself!”

“You knew?” I ask Madge and she sighs.

“Katniss, please,” she says again instead of responding to my accusation. “I will explain later. Right now I truly need your help. I am quite out of my depth here.”

I move to Madge’s side and help her clean the wound, taking too much pleasure in Joe’s muffled grunts as we warn her of the coming pain before we pour the spirits to kill infections on her opened skin. She releases a string of colourful curses that has both Madge and I sharing a glance.

“For shame, Mr. Mason! Such foul language in front of ladies,” I say in my most scandalized tone. Joe hangs her head and shakes it.

“Ladies,” she sneers and then laughs. It is precisely the reaction I was hoping for, distracting Joe from the pain as Madge carefully stitches her ragged flesh back together. “Neither of you count as ladies by any conventional definition and well you both know it. Your highness with your scandalous affair before your late departed husband was even cold in his grave. And you Kitten, with your insatiable lust, pouncing on your poor husband at every turn, demanding he tussle you in the stables, out in meadows—“

“It was by a lake,” I interject and she scoffs. “If you are going to accuse me, at least ensure that your accusations are correct.”

“As I said… Neither of you are truly ladies, only masquerading as one of them.”

Madge and I share another look, colour rising in both of our cheeks. The way Johanna says the word ladies makes it sound like it would be more of an insult to actually be a lady in her eyes. Madge looks away first when Joe releases another string of curse words.

“Here,” I say, offering my hand to Joe to hold through the pain. She bats it away and I return it to assisting Madge. “So then I assume your given name is not really Joseph…”

“Johanna,” she gasps and then releases more curse words. “My name is Johanna. Jo still works for short. That way, when someone tries to call me Joseph the way her majesty here did, I can tell them no one calls me Joseph. Explains why I don’t readily respond to it, and it’s not a lie.”

Madge’s face reveals nothing. She purses her lips and concentrates on her stitches.

“What is your story then, Jo?” I ask gently. “What leads you to dress as a man and fool everyone around you?”

She laughs sardonically and another stream of expletives makes me blush hot. For a moment, I think perhaps she will not share but then she takes a deep breath and speaks. “Same thing what makes the two of you hide your true natures. Disapproval. My father thought to marry me off to a rector. A man four times my age with two wives already dead in the ground and a belief that there is no ill that cannot be solved by a decent whipping. My dear Mama agreed. She thought the influence of the church was the only —“ More curse words echo off the stone walls and Madge halts her sewing for a moment until Johanna regains some composure. “—The only way to cure me of my evil nature.”

“What makes you so evil? I’ve seen no signs of devil worship about,” I say with a great deal of doubt in my voice. She turns her head to peer at me over one creamy, perfectly shaped shoulder and a sickening feeling fills me as I realise that she is in fact rather beautiful, even with her cropped short hair. A collection of pixie features I took for a boy’s in truth belonging to a lovely young woman perhaps four or five years my senior. She smiles at me and it brings me no comfort.

“My parents discovered that I have as great a thirst for a juicy cunt as I do for a big fat cock.” My face flames with her words but I allow myself no other visible reaction. Her words are meant to shock me. I will not give her the satisfaction. “I never saw the reason why my father and brothers could be so freely promiscuous, could fuck whatever they wanted… women, men, goats… without repercussions, but I was forbidden a single loving affair with a girl I loved.”

“Really, Johanna,” Madge admonishes.

“Allow me some fun, your highness. My back is shredded, I shall have yet another ugly scar, and unless Kitten here takes pity on me, I might be out of a home within the hour.”

“You are not exactly endearing yourself to her with that kind of talk,” Madge says and then an awful thought occurs to me.

“Does Peeta know?”

“Does Peeta know?” Johanna sneers again and my stomach feels as though I had just jumped from a great height.

I think of his words… one night of reckless abandon because he felt sorry for himself… surely he wouldn’t then travel with that person as a companion.

Madge says her name in a warning tone but Johanna fixes me with glittering brown eyes, her gaze unwavering as though she knows the precise direction of my thoughts.

“Of course Peeta knows. He’s been helping me maintain my ruse for years now. In fact, this is about how he found out. I refused my betrothal and when my dearest parents tried to have me sent to an asylum, I ran away.” She hisses and her next words begin strained then even out.

“I ran away, cut my hair, dressed myself as a boy, and enlisted in the infantry. I was a drummer for them. You know, the ones that beat the cadence to send commands across the fields. I was shot in the leg, and that would not have been a problem, but I panicked. Then some crazed loon took a bayonet to my side while I was attempting to drag myself from the field. I cut the lout’s throat but the damage was done.” More curse words and she smacks her hand on the stone bench.

“Nearly done,” Madge soothes and Johanna takes a few more deep breaths.

“Peeta found me. I told him I’d rather die right there on the field, knowing what he’d discover as soon as he started tending to me… God love the man, he tended to me anyways and barely even blinked. Not even with musket fire around us… a brush fire. An enemy soldier attacking him. He just… sliced the man the way you slaughter a pig then went back to sewing me together enough to move me. He even yelled at another medic who tried to help, sent him to assist the others wounded nearby instead. He stitched me up, and then lied to the doctors. Said the leg wound was the only one. He stopped by the field hospital every day after and saw to the wound on my side himself. When I was healed enough to rejoin the field, another drummer had already taken my place. Peeta convinced the commander to make me a part of the medical team instead.”

“Driving the cart to move the wounded and the dead,” I supply.

Johanna nods, lifts her arm then, and points to a long jagged scar over her ribs, curling beneath her breast. Exceptionally close to the orb. “This is the one Peeta stitched back together.”

I drop my eyes and watch as Madge finishes her stitching.

“He never asked me why. Why would a girl hide as a man and join the infantry. When I asked him why he never asked… he said he assumed I must have a damn good reason and it was none of his business. He trusted that I would tell him if and when I was ready to trust him. No one would willingly subject themselves to such a life unless they were desperate, had no choice, or wished death upon themselves, he said. It is quite cute when he is so naive.”

I wipe my hands clean with a rag and set myself to the task of crushing herbs.

“So then when he took that sword to his leg…”

“I couldn’t let him die,” Johanna whispers, turning her head just enough for me to see her profile but not enough to look me in the eyes. “I wanted to because then the only person who could betray my secret and see me returned to my family would take my secret to the grave. I would be safe without having to trust in a man. But… I couldn’t. He saved my life, so I saved his.”

“And did you and he…Were you one of the women he…” I trail off, unable to voice the despicable fear choking my throat closed.

“No, Kitten,” Jo says and finally meets my eyes. “I told you he’s a right gentleman. I offered, several times in fact, but he always refused. Said it wasn’t right to take advantage like that when he knew my secret. He saw that knowledge for what it was, something a lesser person would use to control me and so he refused to give even the impression of such control. The damn righteous bastard said he wouldn’t sleep with someone who felt they owed him a debt like that, and that the only reason I was offering was because I felt I owed him. Not because I loved him.”

My spine grows stiffer and my motions as I grind the herbs more forceful with every word she speaks. It sounds like something Peeta would say, but I don’t know if I can believe Johanna.

“Don’t tell him I said it… but he was right to refuse me. He’s been the only real friend I’ve had in years and I am glad he wouldn’t allow me to ruin that,” Johanna says and then she grins. “But he wasn’t above listening to me every night I got drunk and a little too talkative about all the reasons my father thought I needed divine intervention. All the maids and local girls. The boys I let beneath my skirts. My favorite though was a dairy maid named Portia. Ah she was a sweet treat indeed. And you’ve reaped the benefits of my big mouth, haven’t you, Kitten?”

I mix the herbs with the cream despite the burning on my cheeks. I am at least appeased that I am not healing one of my husband’s former lovers, but the fact that Peeta apparently learned much about pleasing a woman simply by listening to this one aggravates me. I smack the cream onto her back and she startles, once more cursing and glaring at me.

“Is that why you hate me then? Because I have been intimate with him while you were not.”

“That would be too simple, Mrs. Mellark. Give me some credit for having more depth of emotions than a jealous harpy. I despise you because the two of you are free to love one another openly and no one will question or recoil from you for it. No one will accuse you of being unnatural, sinful, or an abomination for having that tussle in the stables or by the lake and wherever else on this green earth the two of you have been when you cannot control yourselves. I despise you because you have a real and extraordinary love right in front of you, and you are too much of a coward to admit it.” I blink at her and she scoffs.

“I am not a coward.” Madge stares at me as I spread the cream along the stitched seam of Johanna’s back. “But I won’t admit it to you before I say it to him.”

Johanna’s eyes widen, astonished and so feminine in that moment that I wonder how I did not see it before. The curtsies, the things she’s said to me, the way Peeta reminded her on the day we met that a rough serving man cannot just grab a lady and pull her from the mud without her permission…

I turn to Madge to keep Johanna from questioning what I just confessed to her. “You have been awful quiet during all of these revelations. How long have you known?”

“Since the day after your father awakened.”

I am taken back to that day. The stables. The tea.

“The tea for the monthlies was for Johanna,” I say and Madge nods.

“I did not like keeping it from you, Katniss, but I thought it best at the time. Even though Johanna insisted she and Peeta had never been intimate, I feared the truth coming to light just then might ruin what was growing betwixt the two of you.”

“Which begs the question, Kitten…what will you do now?”

I look between the two women and consider the options, all of what has been revealed to me tonight.

Pulling long strips from the healing kit at my feet, I meet Johanna’s gaze. “Now I will bandage your back. When I am done, you shall return to your dwelling, drink every drop of the tea I am sending with you. You will sleep on your stomach and not disturb or scratch at the bandages. In the morning, Madge and I will tend to your wound. You will only admit either her or myself to see to your care. While I do not believe that my parents would turn you out should they learn the truth, I will not take that risk without your blessing. And once you are healed, you will stop teaching Maysilee to jump side saddle and teach her how to do the thing right. Safely astride. I’ll not see her break her neck over something so foolish as propriety.”

Johanna squints her eyes at me as I speak and then laughs when I am done. “Now I see it, Kitten. I know why he’s so hopelessly in love with you!”

I ignore this and bandage her back, but I have the strangest sense that I have somehow acquired a new ally.

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

To be continued… look for chapter 19 on the blog of @everlarkficexchange.

#efe 2019 #submission #M #everlark #everlark fic exchange #chapter18 #anonymous

128 notes · View notes

salmonthestoryteller · 5 years

Text

Flowers and Hearts

Idea stolen from this post by @craashdowns

pls provide me with a fic about Maria being high school best friends with Rosa and Max instead of Liz, and Max still having that big ass crush on Liz and Maria having a big ass crush on Rosa, and DeLevans having sleepovers where they straight up giggle about the Ortecho sisters until 3am strikes and they talk themselves into a romantic comedy plot where Maria offers to help Max get a date with Liz while Max offers to find out what Rosa feels toward Maria and in the end they get their girls

Flowers and Hearts

High School Rom-Com AU Roswell Fanfic

“I will hurt you if you don’t go to sleep.” Isobel appeared in Max’s doorway at 2:48 am. To be honest, it was a Sunday night, so they did have school in a few hours.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Evans.” Maria told her.

“Ugh. Why is this my life?” Isobel closed the door, and returned to her own room.

“She gets cranky on lack of sleep.” Max offered.

“So she never sleeps?” Maria asked him.

“She’s not that bad, you know that.” Max defended his sister.

“To you, and for some crazy reason Michael Guerin, she’s not that bad. She’s a terror to every other living creature.”

“She loves cats.” Max interjected.

Maria rolled her eyes. “Back on subject. The dance is next friday - are you asking Liz?”

“Everyone knows she’s going with Kyle.”

“We’ve been over this, Max. Everybody assumes that, but it’s not confirmed. They haven’t been seen out together in over two weeks. You need to ask her.”

“Because biology is the best place to ask someone to go to a dance? While we’re discussing pig intestines, would you ever consider going to the dance with me?”

“Not what I would lead with.” Maria told him. “Look, you can approach her elsewhere. You can meet up with Guerin after one of the AP classes they share and ask her then.”

“So I can be even more publically humiliated?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Max gave her a sarcastic look. “Says the girl who refuses to ask out her own crush, even after she held her hand for forty-five minutes.”

“Max, you don’t get it. Girls are way more touchy-feely than guys. They climb all over each other, and it means nothing except that you’re besties. Rosa holding my hand when I was upset was just her being a good friend.”

“Maria, she had hearts in her eyes the whole time, okay? She was looking at you like your crying was the end of her world.”

“Nah, that’s just the writer in you creating fictional scenarios where Rosa lending me her coat-”

“Which happened.”

“And holding my hand-”

“Which also happened.”

“After my latest bad dating experience means something.”

“Because it does, Maria. C’mon. This is not just the writer in me. It meant something.”

“That she’s a really good friend.”

Max made a disagreeing noise, and fell back on the air mattress. Maria looked down from the bed he’d sacrificed for her, and gave a small smile. “Look, if we don’t get some sleep, you’re sister will commit homicide.”

“Fratricide.” Max provided.

Maria rolled her eyes. “That you know the official word for that is sad, Max.”

“Go to sleep, Maria.”

------

“You two look dead on your feet.” Rosa mentioned when they entered the Crashdown Cafe.

“That’s what happens when you stay up until three am.” Isobel glared at them pointedly, before escaping away to a booth. Michael shrugged at them and followed her.

“Three am. Wow, like out on a… y’know, date?” Rosa seemed to find the notepad for writing orders down very interesting, even though Max was pretty sure he’d never seen her actually use it.

“What? Date?” Maria stared at her. “Me? Date Max?”

“Thanks for the severe disbelief in me being dating material.” Max told her.

“You’re dating material, just not my dating material.” Maria reassured him, before turning back to Rosa. “It was just a sleepover.”

“We kept waking Izzy up by laughing - she got cranky.” Max added.

“Oh.” Rosa looked relieved, and Max glanced at her suspiciously. “Well, that makes more sense. But there is a rumor you’re going to the dance together, y’know.”

“We’re each other’s failsafe for dance partner. You know that.” Maria told her.

“You two realize you’re seniors, right? You’re going to be a virgin forever if you keep going with a friend to dances.”

“I am not a virgin.” Maria objected.

“I’m talking about Max.”

“What? Hey, what makes you think I’m a virgin?” Max complained. Rosa gave him a sarcastic look.

“Well, speaking of virgins, is it true Liz is going to the dance with Kyle?” Maria interjected. Max gave her a nudge, which she ignored.

Rosa glanced over to where her younger sister was taking Isobel and Michael’s order. “They broke up, actually. He was being an asshole to Alex, so she told him to grow up. I think she’s planning on staying home.”

“Y’know, get us our usual - we’ll be over there.” Maria pointed to a booth.

“Yah, sure.”

“Did you hear that?”

“Rosa and you picking on me and Liz? I am not a virgin, by the way.” Max complained as they slid into opposite sides of the booth.

“Yah, as your bestie, I remember you calling me about that. And, no, not the virgin thing - that Liz and Kyle broke up.”

“So?”

“So, now is definitely your big chance.”

Max looked over to where Liz and Rosa were now at the counter, laughing. “She’s never going to say yes.”

“She totally will.”

“Okay, if I ask Liz to the dance - will you finally ask Rosa out?”

“How is that comparable?”

“Because she looked miserable when she thought we’d been out on a date until three am? Did you see her playing with her notepad? She wasn’t looking at us until we confirmed it wasn’t a date.”

“That doesn’t-”

“C’mon, Maria.”

“I can’t. What if it ruins our friendship?”

“Rosa is right about one thing.”

“That we’re never going to get laid again if we hang out with each other all the time?” Maria suggested.

Max rolled his eyes. “No, that we’re seniors. This is our last year, Maria. If we want something, maybe we should go for it.”

“Look, if you can get out of Rosa that she is even slightly interested in me as more than a friend, I’ll ask her. And... in return, I’ll help you find the perfect moment to ask Liz to the dance.”

“Pinky swear?” Max held out his hand.

“What are we? Seven?”

“C’mon, Maria.”

“PInky swear.” Maria latched her finger with his.

-----

“Please tell me you aren’t finishing assignments ahead of schedule.” Rosa complained from where she was cleaning up dishes. “Also, we’re closed in ten.”

“No, this is… it’s just a story I was working on.” Max told her.

“Oh, yah, Liz mentioned you want to be a writer.”

“Liz mentioned that?” Max couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t think she’d really remember that.”

“Liz mentions you all the time.”

“She does?”

Rosa rolled her eyes, muttering in spanish as she wiped down a different table.

“You know I know what you’re saying right?” Max brought up.

“Good.” Rosa told him with a pointed look.

“Okay, so if I’m a blind idiot, than… you are too.”

“Excuse you?” Rosa turned around. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Maria. I can see how much you care for her.”

“Yah, no kidding, she’s my best friend, too, remember?”

“C’mon, Rosa, you know that’s not what I mean.”

“And just what do you mean?” Rosa glared at him, her arms crossing in a posture that was both angry and defensive.

Max held up his hands in his own defense. “Hey, I’m not trying to start a fight, I can just tell. You were upset when you thought we’d hooked up or whatever.”

Rosa’s posture remained aggressive. “So? You got something to say about it?”

“Just that I want Maria to be happy, and I think she could be happy with you.”

Rosa blew out a breath, and sat down at his table - her previous defensive stance melting. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“For starters, I’ve never been with another girl before.”

“Somehow, I don’t think dating would be that different, Rosa.”

“Second, she’s my best friend - what if this wrecks it?”

“Yah, but what if it doesn’t?”

“My father’s religious, Max. My whole family is. I don’t know how well he’d take me being with Maria, or any girl for that matter.”

“Your father loves you, Rosa. I know nothing can change that. He’s a great guy.”

Rosa twisted the dish towel in her hand, her look thoughtful. “That’s just it, I recently found out some stuff, and… I just don’t know about people anymore. Plus, this town, I mean, I don’t want Maria to get hurt.”

“Isn’t that risk partly up to Maria, though, not just you?”

“Not if I don’t ask her.”

“Yah, but this is… I mean, aren’t you the one always saying Maria and I play it too safe? We need to get out there, and take risks? I mean, relationships are the biggest gamble ever, but isn’t that because they have the best possible reward?”

Rosa looked down at the dishtowel in her hand as if it might have her answers. “It also has the worst fall out. God put our hearts in a cage for a reason, Max.”

“I just don’t think people are meant to live without someone by their side.”

“I don’t know. Maybe people need armor more than they need people.”

“Or maybe they need someone to be their shield when their armor breaks.”

Rosa gave a small smile. “That a good line. You should put it in your story.” She stood up to go back to cleaning. “We close in two minutes.”

-----

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. Breathe.” Maria adjusted the collar on his shirt. “If you don’t ask her soon, she won’t have time to shop for a dress. As a girl, I can guarantee you that is a crime you will be judged for.”

“I just…maybe this isn’t a good time. I mean, she didn’t break up with Kyle that long ago.”

“You said Rosa said Liz mentions you. That’s a sign, Max.”

“Am I supposed to be this nervous?”

“Everything is going to be fine. You even got flowers. Did you ask Rosa’s advice on the flowers?”

“No, should I have?”

“Well… you know what? Don’t worry about it?”

“Are those flowers?” Liz and Alex had approached his car without them realizing it.

“Uh, yah.” Max glanced down at the small bouquet in his hand.

“So, um… you two are going to the dance together, I guess? Making it official?” Liz studied the books in her arms.

“Making what official?” Max asked her.

“This is such a trope, I can’t even watch.” Alex rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you at lunch, Liz.”

“What? Alex, wait, I’ll walk to class with you.”

“Liz, hold on, I wanted to ask you something.” Max spoke up.

“After biology, okay?” She told him, hurrying after Alex.

“Oh, that didn’t go as planned.” Maria groaned.

-----

“Max and I aren’t together.”

“What?” Liz looked at Maria, where she’d appeared by her locker.

“Max and I aren’t together.”

“He brought you flowers.” Liz reminded her.

“No, he brought flowers to school to ask a girl to the dance. I was just pep talking him.”

“Oh, I guess I just thought… sorry. It’s none of my business either way.” She shut her locker.

“Aren’t you a genius? How are you this dense?” Maria lamented.

“It’s a town malfunction. I think it’s something in the water.” Isobel leaned against the lockers next to them.

Liz rolled her eyes. “What can I do for you, Isobel?”

“Explain why my brother threw away the lame bouquet he bought and is currently moping with Michael on the sports field bleachers?”

“Why should I know?”

“Is she for real?” Isobel asked Maria. Maria shrugged helplessly.

“Okay, well, fun chat.” Liz moved to leave when Isobel spoke again.

“The flowers were for you, Liz.”

“What?” Liz turned back.

“His lame romantic gesture was for you.”

Liz glanced at Maria, who nodded. “Max was going to ask me to the dance?”

“Emphasis on ‘was’. Now that you congratulated him on getting with Maria he’s convinced you don’t see him that way.”

“But I do. I mean, I would have said yes.”

“Sucks to be you.” Isobel straightened and turned to leave.

“Wait, what do I do?” Liz looked between Isobel and Maria.

“I mean, maybe talk to him?” Maria suggested. “Let him know it was a misunderstanding?”

“How? How would I even bring them up?”

“Oh my god.” Isobel turned back. “What century are you living in? The solution is simple. And my brother is a sunflower type of guy, not a rose type. Kay?”

“What do you want in return for being so helpful?” Maria was suspicious.

“Maybe Liz can convince Alex Manes to ask my best friend out? I’m getting tired of Michael dragging me to your mother’s lame ass bar on amateur night so he can make heart eyes at him while pretending to be there for me.”

“I thought they were dating.” Maria mentioned.

“No, they broke up at the end of summer and have been friendzoning each other ever since.” Liz provided.

“But they haven’t dated anyone else.”

“Nope.”

“I feel like I’m in a teen movie all of a sudden.”

“Welcome to my life.” Isobel turned and strode away.

-----

“Look, maybe she was jealous.” Michael suggested. Max gave him a sarcastic look. “Just because she misunderstood you and Maria’s friendship doesn’t mean she’s not into you.”

“How would you know? You barely ever talk to Liz.” Max sighed. “This whole thing was a really bad idea.”

“Or maybe not.”

Max glanced over at him, but he was looking past him. When he turned, Liz was walking toward them up the stairs of the bleachers. She had a single sunflower in her hand. “Hey.” He greeted when she got close.

“Hey.” She greeted in return.

“That’s my cue to leave.” Michael grabbed up his books.

“But-” Max began.

“Let’s study at the crashdown tonight, if you’re free.” Michael told him.

“Hey, Michael, can you do me a favor?” Liz asked him.

“Me?”

“Yah, can you swing by the music room and tell Alex I can’t listen to his new song today, but I’ll call him tonight?”

“Don’t you have a cellphone for that purpose?”

“... out of battery.” Liz excused.

“Yah, sure.” He headed off.

“That sounded like a set up.” Max told her.

“It totally was.” Liz assured him.

“So, was that-”

“Maria told me you two weren’t, y’know, together.”

“I would have set you straight on that, but you were kinda in a rush.”

“I know. I just jumped to conclusions because you two have always been so close.” Liz explained.

“Maria’s my best friend, but we’re just friends. She feels the same way.”

“I ran into your sister, too.”

“Isobel? Now, I’m really worried. I know how she gets.”

“She was actually really helpful.” Liz admitted. “She made me realize that if I keep waiting, time is gonna run out.”

“Waiting for what?”

Liz took a deep breath, then held up the sunflower. “Max Evans, will you go to the dance with me?”

Max’s eyes widened. “You really mean that?”

“I mean, I did bring you a flower.” Liz teased, but then grew serious - stepping back. “But if that’s too-”

“Yes. Liz, I’d love to go to the dance with you.” Max spoke up before she could backtrack too far.

“Really?”

“Yes. I was going to ask you, but after this morning I thought… you weren’t interested.”

“I just didn’t want to interfere if you were happy with someone else. I should have heard you out, though.”

“...Is the flower really for me?”

“It is. Someone reminded me what century it was. So if I was going to ask you to the dance, I should bring flowers, right?” She offered the sunflower, which Max took.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been given a flower before.” He admitted. “I kinda like it.”

“Yah?” Liz smiled up at him, stepping closer.

“Yah.” Max reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, his hand lingering. Liz leaned into the touch, eyes bright as they gazed at each other. Right when Max stepped closer, leaning down towards her the bell rang. “I guess that’s our cue.”

“Or we could… skip the rest of the day.” Liz suggested.

“Skip? Where’s Liz and what have you done with her?” Max grinned.

“C’mon, for once, we can be rebels. Screw the rules, right?”

“Yah, screw the rules.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, before breaking into laughter. “Or maybe we can just be tardy for this one period?” Liz suggested instead.

“Just this one.” Max agreed. The two allowed their lips to meet in a kiss that slowly deepened, ignoring the world around them for just a little while.

-----

“I thought I’d find you up here.” Maria wandered over to where Rosa was lying beneath the Crashdown Cafe sign.

“The sheer level of disgusting cuteness downstairs drove me away.” Rosa complained.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It kind of is. Max and my sister are sharing a Little Green Man Shake. With two cherries. Which I could make a really rude comment about-”

“But you’re not going to, because that’s your little sister and her new boyfriend. C’mon, scoot over.”

Rosa curled her legs up, but didn’t sit up. Maria sat next to her, and Rosa promptly stretched her legs out over her lap. Maria laughed, but placed her hands gently on her legs. “I bet they’re going to get married and have two kids and three puppies.”

“I’m not sure I trust Max with a puppy. He’d never train it properly.”

“You’re right. Plus, Liz forgets to feed herself, she’d never remember to feed a dog. They’ll have to settle for goldfish.”

Maria laughed. “Well, Manes and Guerin can have the puppy.”

“What is in the water? Rosa lamented. “Love Potion Number Nine?”

“If I recall the lyrics right, love potion number nine did not have good results.”

“You would know that.”

“I could probably sing it.”

“You’re voice is beautiful, but please don’t.”

Maria paused. “You think my voice is beautiful?”

“You could probably sing someone commercial jingles and they’d fall in love with you.” Rosa offered.

Maria took a deep breath. “Rosa, can you sit up?”

“You okay?” Rosa swung her legs off her lap and sat up. Her eyes were concerned.

“I just need to say something. And I need to look at you when I say it.”

“Well, you’re looking at me.” Rosa took her hand in hers. “C’mon, talk to me.”

Maria pulled her hand away, causing a frown to mar Rosa’s features. Maria took a deep breath as she stared at her friend’s confused expression. “Rosa, I… I thought about not doing this. I mean, I didn’t plan on doing it ever, but this past week I was going to do it, and then I thought about not doing it. But…” Maria stood, and paced away, before turning back. “I can’t stand not knowing. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if.”

“Maria?”

“I like you. As more than a friend, and I keep thinking maybe you like me back. Then I just wonder if I’m reading into this what I want to read into this. So, just, if that’s true - then okay. I’ll be okay, we’ll be okay. But I have to know one way or the other.” Rosa looked down at her hands, not replying. As the silence stretched, Maria blinked back tears. “Got it. I won’t ask again.” She turned to go back downstairs, but was brought up short by Rosa’s voice.

“You’re so beautiful sometimes that it takes my breath away.”

Rosa wasn’t looking at her when she turned back - her eyes were still on her hands, which she’d clasped together.

“I want to reach out and touch you, but I’m afraid if I do I’ll shatter you like I shatter everything in my life. You’re light and hope and laughter, and I don’t want the world to destroy that. I don’t want to destroy that.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.” Rosa stood up, finally looking at her. “That’s what this world is like - it chews you up and it spits you out and every day is a struggle. Our hearts are caged because they’re stupid, fragile things and the world breaks them and us.”

Maria tilted her head up, determined. “You’re wrong. Our hearts aren’t caged because they’re fragile. They’re caged because they’re wild and dangerous and stronger than the world around us can ever be.”

Rosa gave an aborted half laugh.. “That is so like you.”

“Broken things mend, Rosa. They’re never the same, but they mend. And that’s beautiful, too.”

“Aren’t you even a little afraid?” Rosa asked her, moving forward toward her.

“I’m terrified.” Maria admitted, moving forward to meet her in the middle.. “But I don’t want to let that stop me. I want this.”

Rosa met her gaze, then slowly raised a hand to caress the side of her face. “I want this, too.”

Maria placed her hand over Rosa’s, watching her a moment before leaning in. Rosa met her, her lips melding with hers and making her heart beat with something wildly different than fear.

Fini

I will have you know this is not the fic I needed to write today. XD And it’s simultaneously way longer than I intended, and way shorter than this fic idea deserves. My muse wouldn’t leave me alone, though, so here we are.

#roswell nm fanfic #roswell new mexico #echo #rnm echo #marosa #tiny malex hint #max evans #maria deluca #liz ortecho #isobel evans #alex manes #michael guerin

17 notes · View notes

katurrade · 6 years

Text

Secrets and Sins 10

This is not your normal TRR story. This is a complete AU. A mobster AU. Hopefully you enjoy this, it’s dark and twisted, but should be a fun ride. It’s also written in a reader format, not a MC format. (Y/N = Your Name. Y/L/N = Your Last Name) Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,730 ish.

Pairing: Mobster!Liam x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Curse words. Possible NSFW content in later chapters. Flashbacks of abusive behaviour, and moments of abuse. Possible triggering thoughts and feelings. Probably more warnings to come.

A/N: *throws canon out the damn window* YEET.

You woke up to the bright light coming in through the window. You were still wrapped up like a human taco in the blankets, in the exact same place you had fallen asleep in. Making you instantly realize you’d obviously slept so well, so deeply, that you hadn’t even moved a damn muscle all night. You reached your arms up above your head to stretch, while your toes pointed in the other direction. The motion causing the blankets to shift which sent a waft of a very familiar scene up at you. You breathed in deeply and sighed out contently as the smell of Liam took over your senses. You hadn’t noticed in your tired state the night before, just how much the shirt smelt like him.

You pulled the neck hem up to your nose and took another deep breath, the smell calmed you even more. He had such a unique scene, it was manly, yet refined with a hint of musky undertones. Whatever his cologne was, it suited him perfectly.

You felt wonderful this morning. Well rested and refreshed. However, your stretching had made you instantly away of your need for a bathroom. You wondered what time it was so you lifted your head up to look for your purse, realizing you have left it downstairs with your phone in it. Shit. Okay, game plan time. First you’d need to find a bathroom, then you’d need to go get your purse.

You rubbed your eyes then pulled yourself out of the plush bed and finally took in the room around you.

Of course it was just as stunning as the rest of the house. Why wouldn’t it be? You laughed softly to yourself as you pictured your still really empty apartment and your air mattress for a bed.

You padded across the floor to the door and opened it slowly to peer out. Liams door was still closed and you didn’t hear any voices from around the house. Or at least within ear shot, because this place was fucking huge. You opened the door fully then tiptoed out and to the top of the stairs.

You leaned over the edge to scope things out and still didn’t hear or see anyone. But you did notice the open door to the right of the front door. You could see a sink through it and figured that must be a pounder room. You quietly made your way down the stairs, still extra vigilant for noises around you. You got to the powder room and slipped in, flicking on the lights and closing the door softly behind you. Once you were done you entered back out into the foyer, as you once again didn’t hear any noises.

At this point you figured you were probably either the only one up or the only one home. You made your way back towards the kitchen again, entering it to see your purse on the counter still. You walked over to grab it and pulled out your phone. You had a new message from Hana saying ‘Hey girly, how was your day off? You free later?’. You snorted and chuckled lightly at that. Your day off had started great then went to complete shit, only to then end up okay again. You shook your head. You still couldn’t believe you had spend the night in the King of New Yorks massive ass house. Plot twist. Oh how quickly things can change in a matter of hours. You fired off a reply to her ‘It was interesting. I’ll tell you about it another time. As for if I’m free, I honestly don’t know, I’ll get back to you on that!’

You were about to make your way out of the kitchen when you heard the front door open and a few voices talking loudly. Shit. You froze and instantly started looking for places to hide. You hadn’t gotten a full tour of the house so you weren’t sure what doors led to where. You spun around a couple times looking for an escape, but then stopped looking when you realized the voices were now close. So close that they were probably standing right behind you, in the kitchen doorway.

You slowly turned around and were met with 3 sets of eyes, all staring silently at you. There eyes low on your body. You looked down to see what they were looking at and instantly remembered you didn’t have pants on. Fuck. You grabbed on to the bottom of Liams shirt and tugged it down your legs as far as you could before awkwardly looking up again.

A woman, the same one from the night before, spun around and swatted the two guys “Okay, shows over. Fuck off now.” She said as she continued to swat them away. Both men jokingly flinching like she was hitting them hard, but then they both turned and walked away. Once they were out of sight she turned back to you with a sweet smile on her face “Y/N, I’m Mara, it’s a pleasure to actually meet you.” She walked towards you with her hand extended out.

Mara. Right, the one Liam assigned to watch me. You shook her hand “It’s nice to meet you too,” you looked down at your clothes, or lack there of, again “I wish I’d have been wearing pants for this moment though.” You laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay, nothing I haven’t seen before.” She froze, eyes widening “I don’t mean you, I haven’t seen you like this befor—“

You laughed loudly and waved a dismissive hand “It’s okay, I totally know what you meant.”

She smiled “Okay, good! And sorry about the guys, I swear they are all really good dudes, they just clearly don’t see half naked woman often.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to respond you heard someone clear their throat behind Mara and looked up to see Liam now standing in the doorway, frozen, with Drake right behind him. What is this a damn house party now? Of course you’d be the only one at the ‘party’ with no damn pants on. You groaned softly as Mara turned to see what you were looking at. Then she laughed wildly “Okay, let’s go get you some pants before the whole house turns into a gawking mess.”

You bit your pip to keep from laughing as you nodded your response. Not missing Liams eyes travelling down your body, as he took in your near nakedness in front of him. Subtle he was not. But you then noticed that Drake had done a 180 and now had his back to you. Clearly trying his hardest to not be apart of this whole awkward interaction.

Mara went to lead you out of the kitchen, which meant you would have to walk directly passed Liam and Drake. Who had now both backed up into the hall to let you pass. Drake still facing away from you. Liam still staring at you, something in his eye made your heart flutter. And part of you was sure if there hadn’t been anyone else around he would have pick you up, thrown you over his shoulder and carried your ass up stairs to show you just what he thought of you, half naked, in his shirt. The thought sent a pleasant chill down your spin.

You slowly walked passed him in the hall “Morning.” You said with a smirk. Figuring to just own this awkward situation as best you could.

He cleared his throat and you swore you saw a blush on his face as he spoke “Morning.” He paired it with an awkward head nod. You made a mental note that you could, in fact, fluster him in return. Vowing to use that intel at a later date. And often.

You chuckled as you continued on your way to your room. Knowing full well that his eyes were still on you. You could damn near feel them on your back. So you played up your walk a bit, wiggling your hips just a little as you went. Might as well give him something to look at. Well, besides you in just his shirt.

Once you got into the foyer, Mara picked up a few bags and followed you up the stairs to your room. You both entered it and she began to speak “Liam asked me to go collect your clothes from your apartment this morning.” She put the bags down on the bed “I hope you don’t mind that I did, it just isn’t safe for you to return home yet.”

You looked at her “Ah, thank you. It’s fine, I needed them.” You waved a hand dismissively then looked at the bags “So, when do you think I’ll be able to return home?” You asked.

“That I don’t know. You’d have to ask Liam. But I’ll leave you to get changed, I’ll be down stairs when your finished.” She smiled.

But just as she went to turn away “Mara wait,” you said. She stopped and turned back to you. “I just, wanted to say thank you for last night.” You paused and played with the hem of Liams shirt again “Ah, actually, I guess for more then just last night.” You finished and looked back up at her.

She shook her head “No thank you needed, it’s my job.”

“I know, but still, thank you. For everything.” You gestured around the room with both hands, before abruptly dropping them to your side when you realized the action lifted the shirt higher up your thighs.

A part of you had wanted to ask her what they did with the shit brick house, from last night. But another part of you didn’t really want, nor care, to know what they had done with him. All you did know was that you’d probably never see him again, and that’s all that mattered really.

She smile and nodded then exited the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You opened the bags to look for an outfit to wear. You put on a pair of black leggings, a white tank top and a light grey oversized sweater. Today was your second, and last, day off work and you were not down with tight jeans today. You just wanted to be comfy.

Now dressed your next mission was coffee, and stat. You headed back down stairs and to the kitchen once again. Finding Mara there making a pot of coffee.

“Ooh thank god.” You sighed happily as you went to sit on a bar stool. Hearing Mara chuckle over her shoulder at your excited reaction.

“I’m guessing you’re a coffee drinker?”

“More like a coffee addict.” You laughed.

She laughed to “Then you’ll fit right in here.”

Just as you were about to speak again, a loud group of men came wandering into the kitchen. You recognized Drake first, then the guy from last night, the one that was helping Mara with your attacker, and then the two guys from earlier, that Mara shoo’d away, however, the last one you had never seen before.

Drake came over and leaned his elbows on the counter in front of you “Morning, glad to see you found some pants.” He joked.

You burst out laughing then replied “In my defence, I didn’t think anyone was home.”

“Suuuuuure.” He mock rolled his eyes then smirked. “That’s what they all say.”

You halted entirely and looked down at your hands clasped together on the counter as your brows furrowed together at his comment. ‘What they all say’? What was that supposed to mean? You’d be silly to think you were the first woman Liam had ever brought home. Durp. Of course there had been others. But at the same time, was that all you were to him, just another woman in the endless parade of women? Were you just working your way up to being another notch in his belt? If that was the case then you weren’t interested in that. You refused to just be a random number in a mans life. Regardless of who that man was. Fuck no, not you thing.

“Good job, Walker. You already managed to piss her off and it’s not even 10 am yet.”

Your eyes snapped up to look at the man now talking. He slapped Drake upside the head as he walked passed him and around the kitchen island to you, extending his hand once he got close enough. “Hey Doll, I’m Bastien. My friends call me Bash.”

You reached out and shook his hand “Y/N. My friends call me Y/N.” you smiled, cheekily.

He laughed then looked over to Drake “I like this one.” Then he turned back to you “And I know your name, I’ve heard lots about you.” He said with a smirk. “Let me introduce the guys. Drake you already know, so just ignore him, like the rest of us do.” He chuckled and winked at you as Drake instantly feigned offence. “That cut’s deep, Bash.”

He rolled his eyes then pointed to the guy from last night “That’s Rashad.”

He smiled at you and you smiled back “Thank you for last night.”

He shrugged “No worries, it’s my job.”

Then Bash pointed to one of the two guys from earlier “That’s Sam.” He then pointed to the other “And James.”

You waved awkwardly at them both then Mara pipped up “Coffees ready,” she glared and pointed at the men “but ladies first.” She scolded.

A couple of the guys groaned and you giggled at that as you got up off your chair and went to go make a cup of coffee. Once you had it made you went to sit back down to enjoy the freshly brewed cup of heaven.

All the men made their coffees then trickled out of the room, one by one. Leaving just you and Mara, after a few minutes. You took a sip of your coffee then held it with both hands in front of you, smelling the sweet aroma of it as Mara joined you at the counter, sitting on a bar stool to your right.

“Is it always this crazy around here?” You asked.

“Yeah, for the most part.” She shrugged “This place is sort of like a club house. All of us spend our free time here, a few of us even live here.”

“Oh,” you turned to looked at her “Other people live here besides Liam?”

“Yeah. Drake has a room down the hall, by Liams office. Regina stays in the suite above the garage. Rashad has a room upstairs. Bash and myself have rooms downstairs. We’re like a family, and it’s safer if we all stay together.”

You gapped at her for a moment “Jesus. How many rooms does this place have?”

“Ah,” she thought about it for a moment “10.” She nodded

“Holy, this place is huge.” You whispered.

“Yeah.” She laughed “and each bedroom has its own bathroom.”

You froze then burst out laughing “Does every room actually have a bathroom?”

She looked confused and you quickly added “I didn’t realize my room had one this morning, that is sort of why I ended up in the kitchen without pants on.”

“Oh,” she dragged out the word the. laughed “it all makes so much more sense now.”

Just then Liam came walking into the kitchen, phone to his ear. He paused in the doorway for a moment and smiled at you then wandered over to the coffee maker and started to prepare a cup. You and Mara both just remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt his call. He would reply here and there with the odd ‘Yup’ or ‘uh huh’. Clearly who ever he was talking to liked the sound of their own voice.

But then he spun around to look at you and covered the phones mic with his hand before pulling the phone away from his ear to whispered “What size dress to you wear?”

He furrowed your brows then replied with your dress size. Being super confused as to why he was asking. He took his hand away from the mic and returned the phone to his ear then said your dress size into it before he turned picked up his coffee and left the room. With no explanation as to why he just told some rando your dress size.

Brows still furrowed to turned to look at Mara “The fuck?” You asked but all she did was shrug and chuckle as she continued to sip her coffee. You shook your head then did the same, both of you falling into an oddly comfortable silence.

After you both finished you coffees Mara offered to show you around the place. Turns out it was way bigger then you had originally thought. It had a putting green on the roof, multiple living rooms and dining rooms, a huge laundry room, the two kitchens, a pool out back, a bowling alley down stairs as well as a games room, a movie theatre and a gym.

The only parts of the home you didn’t get to see were the other bedrooms, Liams office though she showed you where it was, and the suite about the garage where some woman named Regina lived.

“Mara,” you asked as you made your way back upstairs, she hummed for you to continue “Who is Regina?”

“She is Liams step mother. When Connie died and Liam took over, she moved into the suite so Liam could take over the house.”

“Really, he let her stay?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah, she may not have been Liams mom, but Connie loved her and she was always good to Liam. So he wanted her to stay here where she was safe and could live out her days comfortably. You’ll get a chance to meet her at some point.”

You nodded in response as you both neared the top of the stairs into the foyer. Once you were both in the foyer the front door opened and two woman walked in. One was older, grey hair, wearing a pretty plush and metallic dress. The other was younger, around your age, with white blonde hair, wearing a teal dress and a wicked resting bitch face. Which was currently directed at you.

“Oh Mara,” the younger one said in such a mock sweet voice, that even you could tell it was fake but then she quickly changed her tone to sneer “Who’s your little friend.” as she looked you up and down then smiled, but you could tell it was in disapproval.

You looked at Mara who just rolled her eyes, which almost made you burst out laughing “A guest of Liams.” She responded coolly. The younger woman huffed then crossed her arms. Just as you saw her opened her mouth to speak, the older woman beat her to it. “Oh, you must be Y/N.” she said as she walked towards you “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Regina, Liams step mother.” She said warmly, which was a polar opposite response then the other woman’s. She reached out her hand to shake yours. You smiled politely then shook her hand “It’s nice to meet you as well, Regina.”

“And this is Madeleine, my niece.” She said as she turned to gesture to the still clearly irritated younger woman.

Before you could say anything more you heard footsteps coming down the hall and you turned just as Liam came around the corner. He froze instantly and looked at you before his eyes flicked over to the other two woman standing behind you. “Oh Liam, darling. There you are,” you heard Madeleine purr as her footsteps came up behind you now “We just had the pleasure of meeting your friend.” she said and you could hear the disdain in her voice. The stab of her words ‘your friend’ like a knife in your back.

Liam sighed “What are you doing here Madeleine?” He asked irritatedly.

“I came to see you, we have to prepare for the fundraiser gala tomorrow night.” She said as she went to take his arm, but he pulled away to glare at her, making her freeze in place “What’s wrong, daring?”

Just then Mara quietly excused herself then headed back downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at her, as if begging her to take you with her, but she just smirked and shook her head then disappeared down the stairs. Traitor.

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you spun on your heel and said “On that note.” As you beelined for the stairs and up to your room. Wanting to get as far away from what ever the fuck that was, as fast as you could. You reached your room and shut the door softly behind you before moving the bags off your bed and flopping down on your stomach.

Who the fuck was that woman? And why the fuck did seeing her try to touch him piss you off so much? Hearing her talk to him like that? You groaned into the bed then rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Why the fuck am I even here? Then your mind drifted back to what Drake had said earlier. Were you just another potential notch? Did he have lots of woman in his life? Were you stupid to believe that he just wanted you, just you? He is the King of New York for crying out loud. There’s no way he’s be happy with just one woman. With just you. He probably had multiple girlfriends, ones that would most likely always be around. Fuck that. You weren’t down to be a damn sister-wife. You laughed bitterly. Why do I even fucking care so much? You shook your head then pulled out your phone, opening the text window with Hana. Quickly typing ‘Han’s, where are you right now?’

Your phone pinged ‘Just leaving my dads shop, you home?’

‘No, I’m gonna call yo— Just as you were typing out your message there was a knock on your door.

You froze for a second, contemplating if you should answer or not, then they knocked again more urgently. You quickly backspaced your text and typed ‘No, I’ll call you in a bit, kay?’ then hit send. You huffed and climbed off the bed, hearing the phone ping again as you reached the door. You opened it to see Liam standing on the other side, one hand rubbing the back of his neck the other by his side. “Can I come in?” He asked quietly as his blue eyes locked on yours.

Chapter 11 HERE.

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

Perma: @blackcatkita @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject @choiceslife @speedyoperarascalparty @alicars @kennaxval @leelee10898 @riseandshinelittleblossom @ao719 @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @blackwidow2721 @indiacater @annekebbphotography @umccall71 @bella-ca @lodberg @romanticatheart-posts @queenof1000days @nazariobae @sstee1 @carabeth @sarwin85 @sazanes @gibbles82 @zaffrenotes @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @tothetardissterek @pixieferry @daniv2278 @applenico @cordoniaqueensworld

S&S: @cordoniansqueen @alexpottrechoices @nekkidmolerat @brightpinkpeppercorn @akrenich @h3llostrang3r @alj4890 @thecordoniandiaries @elbenmond @harlequinash @wannabemc2 @choicesbyjade @jovialyouthmusic

130 notes · View notes

canaryatlaw · 5 years

Text

okay, today was pretty good. I woke up to my alarm at 11 and had some breakfast while figuring out what the plan was for the day, and mostly just chilled out for a bit on my laptop until Makenzie and her friend arrived to drop their bags and such. We were gonna go to this restaurant near the concert venue they were attending a concert at but it was already like 2 pm at that point and the next bus wasn’t for another 18 minutes and we were hungry so we said fuck it because there’s a ton of good restaurants right here, so we went to the arcade place that’s always good. After eating we can back to my apartment for a bit to relax before they headed out for their evening adventures. After they left I started cooking dinner which ended up being more chaotic than I anticipated (there were just a lot of moving parts that all needed to be accomplished in a short period of time) so I got kinda agitated over that and the fact that it was taking longer than I would’ve liked it to, I usually like to have it ready by the time Jess gets home from work and comes over but since I had to wait for the chicken to cook and the pasta to be done I had only just gotten it into the oven when she got here, so we had to wait a bit and then once it was done we ate quickly before we started recording the podcast episode. For what it’s worth, the dinner did actually come out quite good, it was chicken parmesan baked ziti and was fairly simple in theory (it basically just breaks down to pasta, chicken, tomato sauce, and cheese) so I will probably be making it again once I have a better laid out plan for it all, lol. So we recorded like a half hour long podcast episode, which I thought was pretty good since we still don’t have a whole lot of content to actually comment on, they dropped the 20 second teaser trailer last night but like, it was literally just a shot of her costume lol but apparently we’re getting a full trailer next week (right before we’re leaving for megacon of course) so we’ll definitely have more to talk about then. but yeah, it was pretty amusing. Once we finished Jess hung out for a bit to eat more of the delicious pasta and watch an episode of Supergirl since she’s a few behind before heading home. When she left I decided to watch tonight’s episode of Riverdale, which was probably a dumb idea because I don’t even really like that damn show, though I will say the plot twist regarding “the farm” tonight was fairly original and I did not see that coming, but basically all the rest of it is dumb shit lol. After that I went to last night’s episode of The Flash, which I admittedly was only like halfway paying attention to. It was fine I guess, I’m not feeling very invested this season, just haven’t really gotten into the plot so it was all a bit underwhelming, though the twist at the very end definitely had me like OH SHIT although I’m not 100% sure what it actually meant lol I knew it was bad and I didn’t see that coming for sure. I’m counting on the flash podcast to explain it for me so I can be prepared for the season finale next week. When that was done Jimmy Kimmel was on so I watched him, and soon after Makenzie and her friend returned, so we blew up the air mattress and did other bed-prepping things, and we luckily had leftovers from dinner that they could eat. And yeah, we pretty much all winded down and went to bed shortly after, and after taking care of a few things now I’m here. It’s exactly 1:59 am so I should definitely be going to bed now. Goodnight my loves. Have an awesome Thursday.

#daily journal #May 2019 #Makenzie tag #Rachel watches The Flash #Jess tag

1 note · View note

brightlotusmoon · 8 years

Text

Sneak Peek, “The Spirit Within” #2

So, @lacrymosa99 had joyfully requested that I expand my TMNT 2012 Season 5 headcanon of “Leo and Mikey become Spiritual Intuition Bros, discover their powers together, have loads of fun, and hang out with Ghost Dad Splinter and become like psychic mediums for the family and Unfairly Departed Rat Dad, with hilarious results.” And I was all excited and got to work, because that does make for a really good story with tons of character development. I posted some of the start a few days back. Now I decided to post some more. Except it is still in the Angsty-Fluff stage, not the Sweet-Fluff stage or the Silly-Fluff. The boys gotta practice! And there are side effects! And Leo has no freaking clue what he’s doing! And Mikey may have all that raw talent but he needs discipline and commitment! And Donnie has a new toy! And I am actually learning to write Leo better because of this, I can totally sympathize with him for the first time without muttering “Wonder Boy” under my breath. Turns out, using Mikey as the focal point lets me dive into the turtle’s heads easily, as long as they care about Mikey, I can work with them like whoa. I shall also tag @jumpybox and @mysillylittlesoapbox because there was interest expressed, and Angel123, who doesn’t have a Tumblr. Not gonna apologize for repeated themes, because you should know me by now. This story, which when finished will become part two of The Sunshine Child series, is Canon Divergent. I shall be following the show for the most part, but these stories are meant to be supplemental and take place in that mysterious time lapse between episodes that Ciro loves to gloss over. Who knows what happens offscreen? They don’t really tell us. This is actually a good thing for us writers, because we can write little things that could or should happen in the show but obviously won’t. I am rambling. All right. Lacrymosa, I hope you like where this is going. I mean, you can totally ask for it to change, I give you permission since you made the request. But I have Plans and Plots, sooo. Yeah.

He waited a few days before testing his unspoken theory; he didn’t want to spook his brothers, But it was time now.

Leonardo settled himself before the dojo tree, calling up this new spiritual power like the flow of a river. He sensed Michelangelo kneeling beside him, and that rush of spiritual power from his baby brother was like a burst of oxygen, blooming life and warmth and sunlight. He reminded himself to not feel envy or jealousy. It was just Mikey.

Mikey spoke in a whisper, but to Leo it was a shout. “It’s like my whole brain just expanded and I feel everything.”

Leo frowned. That wasn’t quite his experience; his spiritual feelers were more refined and detailed, seeking out information. Mikey’s seemed more like a solid mist spreading everywhere, eager and childlike in curiosity. How deeply could Mikey sense things? Has Sensei known all this time? Should Leo have known? Why hadn’t Sensei prepared him for something like this?

Sighing, Leo bit his lip, huffed, and concentrated again. His aura rose around him, streamlined and steady, taut and waiting, patient and quiet. It hummed comfortingly.

And then that flowing sunset orange mist nudged it, carefully wrapping around the edges of Leo’s energy, prodding so gently, trying to find a way to ask politely. Leo reminded himself to relax completely. Mikey had an insatiably curious nature, naturally his spiritual energy would be the same. But Master Splinter had never mentioned auras being able to expand so rapidly outside their own boundaries.

“Mikey,” he hissed. “Quit poking me.”

“M’not,” Mikey hissed back. “It’s doing that by itself.”

“What, you can’t control it?” Leo jerked back in horror, his eyes snapped open, his head whipping to the side.

Michelangelo slowly opened his eyes and turned to smile at Leo. It was a kind, gentle smile, easy and delicate. Something in his eyes…his pupils were dilated and the strips of summer blue were glittering. “I never said that,” and Mikey’s voice was different, soft and sweet like a kitten’s purr. Leo blinked, and sunset color surrounded Mikey, tapping and bouncing against his skin like waves. Around his head, the aura looked like a radiating star, like a solar eclipse with Mikey’s head as the moon. Mikey opened his mouth in a grin, and the color was there too, puffing like vapor from his mouth.

“Leo,” the colors said, “Don’t worry. It’s all good. Everything is awesome.”

Leo watched as Mikey’s aura only brightened and widened, spilling out into the dojo, colliding with the tree and lighting it up with colors he had only seen in outer space. He couldn’t breathe. He pressed both hands to his chest. It was too much. As Leo felt himself slide sideways, he saw a white core of power, ringed in summer blue, the color of his brother’s eyes.

. . . .

“…eo? Leo, I’m sorry. You gotta wake up. Can you hear me? Please, big brother, we need you!”

It was Mikey’s voice, but it was Mikey as a child, tormented by endless nightmares, scrabbling to cling to Leonardo’s plastron in tears, and Leo would automatically embrace him tightly, so tightly, and murmur, “Shh, little brother. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Guys, did you hear that? He said something!”

“Are you sure, Mikey? He hasn’t even moved in six hours.”

“Donnie, I swear, he said something! Leo, say it again? Leo! Leo, please! Wake up, wake up!”

“Mikey, don’t shake him! Quit it, ya shellhead. What did you do again?”

“Stop it, Raph, I didn’t do anything, I swear! No! Lemme go! Leo!”

“Ow! Mikey! Stop hitting me!”

“Raph, ease up. Maybe Mikey can connect with him. They were meditating with their new spiritual intuitions, after all.”

“It’s been six hours, Don. Ya think something would’ve, y’know, happened?”

“M-maybe he’s lost. In the colors.”

“Mikey, you’re making less sense than usual.”

There was blackness, then whiteness, then a rush of colors like a rainbow erupting. His own dark gray-blue, Mikey’s amber orange, Donnie’s soft violet purple, Raph’s deep crimson red. They danced around each other frenetically, and the orange fringed them all, mist flowing like water and air, curling in a strange attempt to calm them.

“Leo, I had a bad dream, there was a big monster with teeth and he hurt Papa and then he tried to hurt you, and I couldn’t find Raphie or Donnie, and I was alone and no one could help…”

“Mikey, it wasn’t real, you know that. Dreams aren’t real. They’re all in your mind. Your mind wants to scare you so you can learn to be brave.” Those lamp-like eyes shone at him. “You’re already brave. I bet you don’t have nightmares.”

He smiled. “Of course I do Mikey. I have nightmares about losing all of you. But then I remember that I will wake up and you’ll all be here.”

The hug got tighter. “I’ll always be here, Leo. Promise you will be too?”

“I promise, Mikey…promise…s’okay…it’s okay…”

“LEO!” The shout was full of amber orange and he flinched. He felt something – someone – close to his head.

“Leo? Can you hear me?”

He groaned, his entire body feeling weighed down. “D-Don?”

“Oh, thank science. Can you open your eyes?”

“Nnngghh…” He pried his eyelids open and his vision was filled with russet eyes framed in purple. He decided to try breathing, and was grateful when oxygen filled his lungs. “Donnie. Mikey? What happened?”

“Leeoo!” And then Mikey’s freckled face was all he could see as Donnie was shoved aside with a grunt. “Leo, what happened? What did you see? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do whatever I did. It just went everywhere. I couldn’t figure out how to pull it back. I think I exploded you! I’m so so sor--”

“Mikey, Mikey…” As he struggled on his elbows, Leo realized he was lying on a mattress, still in the dojo, his head on a pillow. There was equipment lying around him. His head was pounding. He took several deep gulps of air and rolled his head, neck, shoulders. Everything seemed to be all right. He was just wrung out. Donnie was holding up a tablet-like device pointed at Leo.

“What is that, Don?”

“Hm? Oh, something Dr. Rockwell built for me. It scans the body and the brain like a CT scan. Neat, huh? Anyway, you’re completely fine, except you went into a near coma for six hours, and your brain activity was wild.”

“When did Rockwell build that?”

Don waved a hand. “I dunno, a week ago. I hadn’t gotten a chance to use it on anyone but myself. It uses Kraang tech to pinpoint accuracy, so I can tell if there’s internal damage, brain injury…plus, it helps keep track of April’s psionic powers. I figured I could track these new abilities you and Mikey have been displaying.”

“Don, can you look at me while you’re talking?”

“Sorry.” Donatello, glanced up from the screen, frowning. “Does anything hurt? Do you think you can stand up?”

Leo rubbed his head. “I’d love something for this migraine. Raph, help me up.”

Standing was much better than he had expected. Raph held onto him like he expected Leo to fall, but Leo squared his shoulders, cracked his neck, and sighed. Ugh, Sensei had not prepared him for this. “That feels better. Now. Mikey…”

And when he looked next to Donnie, he realized that Mikey had taken a few steps back and was trembling, head down, hands twisting.

“Mikey, wait. Hey. It’s okay. I’m fine.” Leo spread his arms, spun easily on one foot, grinned widely. But his littlest brother stayed, and the shaking increased, until there were tears at the corners of his eyes and tiny whimpers in the back of his throat.

Raphael ran to his side, throwing an arm around him, green eyes wide and alarmed. “Mikey, what’s the matter with you? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pass out too!”

But Mikey could only shake his head back and forth, and his breathing became harsh, and Raph was now embracing him completely, staring at Leo and Donnie in utter frustration and worry. “Donnie, use that thingy, quick! Make him stop!”

As Don scanned the freckled turtle, small beeps came from the tablet and Don jumped back, frowning. “Wait, I don’t get…hang on…there’s a massive energy fluctuation! Can you hold him still? I need to bring this closer to his head…”

Leo began to feel the rush of his spiritual energy flow and expand, and this time it felt insistent, impatient, searching. All he could do was hang on and watch as his aura moved toward Mikey’s aura, which responded by widening and enfolding Leo’s own. Leo gawped, watching the colors curl and wrap around each other. But then, dark spots began to appear in Mikey’s orange, and Leo suddenly felt chilled. His blue appeared to be trying to cover the spots.

Donnie was tapping furiously on the screen. “It’s like an electric storm. It looks like his neurons are rapidly misfiring.”

“English, please!” Raph snarled.

“I think he’s having some sort of seizure!” Don yelled. And then Mikey let out a strangled scream and slumped bonelessly in Raph’s arms.

Leo’s scream was just as strangled.

Sensei hadn’t prepared him for this!

#fanfiction #headcanon #tmnt 2012 #tmnt2012 #mikey #leo #the sunshine child series #spiritual leo #spiritual mikey #spiritual bros #splinter #rat dad #ghost splinter #look i wrote a fic #fic request #this is fun #canon divergence #empath mikey #i actually like leo now

16 notes · View notes

golddaggers · 8 years

Text

Best Friends Forever

Reader x Klaus Mikaelson

*Requested smut, read carefully ;)

Imagine: You are angry because you ex seems to be really hitting it off since you two broke up. In order to help you through it, Klaus Mikaelson, your best friend, shows up in your place. There, he decides to come clean about his own feelings. After that, things get a bit hot in your room.

Word Count: 3043

A light rain was pouring outside, matching your horrible mood. Today you had the misfortune of bumping into your ex boyfriend, Matt Donovan, and, to make things even worse, he looked like he could not be any happier, babbling about his growing success. Like you wanted to actually know that! Urgh! And that son of a bitch still felt in the right to comment about your life and fucking laugh about it. So what you had been going out and drinking more? It was none of his business.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the radio. Music helped a lot to discharge the anger and keep your emotions together. Right now, it was exactly what you needed. Luckily, your girl power song was on: Beyoncé’s hit Single Ladies. A smile fastly appeared, as you started to sing and dance along.

“Acting up, drink in my cup! I can’t care less what you think.” You swayed your hips to the tune and rolled your eyes, wishing you were telling him that. “I need no permission, did I mention?”

“I take you are in a good mood, Y/N.”

The singing stopped and strangled scream came out instead. It took a few seconds for you to realise who had barged into your room, invading your privacy. After the fear went off and Klaus was laughing out loud, you frowned, angry.

“This is not funny. I could have had a heart attack.”

“You’re a banshee, I’m pretty sure you are able to predict your own death.” You narrowed your eyes. “I’m just kidding! I came back town yesterday and heard Matt was at Mystic Falls as well. Thought I’d come to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing peachy!”

“Do you want me to kill him?” He questioned, sitting next to you. “Because I’d gladly do it.”

“No. I don’t want his blood on your hands too. My friends already hate you enough.”

He chuckled at your remark.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m just mad he still feels like he has some sort of right over me. Matt even laughed when I said I had met somebody new.”

Klaus’ face twitched when you said that, almost as if he was jealous or something. But you had to be imagining it, since he was madly in love with Camille O'Connell, a bloody bartender he met back in New Orleans and the one responsible for stealing him away from you. Argh, you hated her and your bad luck with boys.

“Have you?” He asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“No… But I wish I had, so I would go out and show him off to everyone.” You laughed and he soon followed. “Enough about me now. Tell me, how is everything in New Orleans?”

“Fine, I guess, although I wish you would come to live with me. You’d be safer plus I wouldn’t have to be missing you all the time.”

“Aw, if that’s your way of telling me you like me, I’m loving it.” You hugged him, nuzzling on his neck. “Yet, I’m pretty sure you didn’t miss me so much.”

“Is that so, love?”

“Yeah, I bet you kept yourself busy hooking up with that Cami girl.”

Klaus giggled and stroke your hair, squeezing your body against his. It felt good to be there, inside his arms, feeling all the warmth he could provide. The best place on earth. Suddenly, you were taken from your thoughts as the blond pushed you off a little, just enough so he could see your face and run his fingers through your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Of course I should, she has you all to herself.”

“No, she doesn’t. Cami was just a fling. Someone to pass the time with.”

“I thought you were in love with her…” You bit your lip, confused.

“Oh, I assume Elijah and you have been talking.”

“Nah. Rebekah may have slipped the information that you were in love when she came to visit me.”

“She speaks the truth. But it’s not Cami the woman I love.”

“Then who is it?”

“You’re so silly, darling.” His voice came out soft as silk. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you! Since the fucking day you walked into that bar and amazed me with your courageousness. I knew I had to have you in my life.”

A breath got stuck on your throat, which made a loud squeal come out. The whole situation was just too much to swallow at once. Your mind even rewined his speech, trying to make you understand what he had just said. Klaus Mikaelson loved you. His funny little human/banshee friend. A girl crazy enough to stand up for her own principles and give him witty responses. The only one able to love him despite his awful mood swings and dreadful need for revenge. Yes, despite all the times he hurt your friends and plotted evil plans, you still wanted him to be a part of your life. Heck, this was so messed up! Maybe you had some sort of Stockholm syndrome or something like that.

“Y/N?”

“W-What?”

“Breathe.” Only then you realised you were not breathing and was starting to feel dizzy. You let air fill your lungs, helping everything to work properly as before. “Feeling better?”

“You love me?” Your voice was still coming out as a high pitched sound. “How can you love me?”

“I can’t explain it… But I do. I love you. And I am selfish enough to need you by my side.”

“This is…”

Klaus did not give you time to finish the sentence. He smashed his lips against yours, his hands grasping your hair and pulling it. For a split second, you considered stopping him. You were not able to do that, though. Matter fact, it took only a couple of seconds for you to wrap your arms around his waist and kiss him as badly as you wanted.

“Klaus… We need to… Come on, help me a bit.” Your voice came out between gasps and his attempts to keep kissing you. He surrendered and let you free of his spell.

“I’m tired of holding back. You have no idea how hard it is to hide feelings.”

“Why did you do it, then?”

“You were with Matt.”

“So? That never mattered to you before. I heard what you did to poor Tyler just because Caroline loved him.”

“It’s… Different. I never loved her like I do with you. I wanted you to be happy.”

“OK, so we have caring and altruistic Klaus at once? I’m going to pass out.” He laughed and you joined him. “You know I love you too, honey. I just thought we were platonic. Like, friends and nothing else. Me, a nut job who had the guts to challenge a thousand year old original vampire would never have a chance with someone like him. Like you. So I settled with human and ordinary.”

“Don’t ever say that again.” He placed two fingers on your lips. “I can’t imagine no one who can match you. You’re meant to be extraordinary. A true queen. My queen.”

His grip tightened on your waist, bringing you closer. Now it was all about the senses, which were way more heightened. Klaus’ hot breath against your neck, while his stubble made shivers run across your body. Everything felt so perfect…

“Nik, are you really sure you want do this? Because once we’re in, there’s no getting out.”

“I’m sure. You’re stuck with me, Y/L/N.”

“I guess we should seal it, then.” You said, hooking your arms around his neck and looking directly at the intense blue of his eyes.

“How?”

“It’s better if I show you.”

Your hands slippered slowly through his body until they reached the tip of his shirt, tugging it. Klaus smiled and lifted his arms, helping you to get that part of his clothing off. The sight of him shirtless made you sigh, enchanted. No other guy you had hooked up with looked half as hot as the original vampire did. It was not fair!

“Like what see, darling?”

“Oh, yeah. But-am, I’d like to see more.” You bit your lower lip. “Take those off for me, please?”

He started unbuckling his belt and then, in a very provocative way, got rid of his trousers. While the Mikaelson kick it to one of the room’s corners, you thought it was not possible for someone to be this delicious. That pair of black boxers had your mouth watering just to see what was hiding underneath. You stood, walking towards him and began to feel his bare chest. The muscles tensed. Klaus approached your bodies by pulling you closer.

“You’re way too dressed for the occasion.”

“Then help me out of it.” You whispered, teasing him.

Suddenly the skirt your wearing was torn and tossed somewhere, your baggy shirt went alongside it. The same thing happen to the fine black bra and the thong you had on. The original hybrid grinned, maliciously. He did not spare time to touch your pussy. His fingers very urgent, which made you groan loudly.

“Oh, God!”

“Nuh-uh, babe. I want my name coming out of your lips.”

“Yeah, honey?” Your voice was soaked with pleasure. “I guess you’ll have to work for it.”

“Don’t worry, I promise it’ll be satisfying.”

Klaus grasped your shoulders, applying a fair amount of strength, and guided you to bed, where he pushed you so you would fell against the mattress. Once you were there, he spread your legs and started to trace every inch of your skin, so freaking slowly it was driving you mad. A grunt escaped, as a complaining for his method to deal with things. He did not seem to care, for the man kept having his way. He gave sloppy kisses on your inner thighs and his hands ran to your breasts, massaging. You stuck your fingers in his curls, every gasp was followed by your nails digging a little more deep on it. Finally he thought it was a good idea to cut the teasing and go for it. His tongue darted out your entrance, the tip playing with your folds and making you yell so loudly you knew your neighbours would come by to critise.

“Do you like that, love?”

“Oh, fuck, just shut up and keep going.”

The original laughed and went back to your core, this time kitten licking the soft nub in the centre of it. Your breathing became more irregular as he invested more rashly, which made you twist and buckle your hips against his face. The tension built up on your stomach wanting to be released. Though you had the feeling he would not give this to you so easily. Klaus pumped two of his fingers in and out of you, now spotting places you never noticed that were there before.

“Oh, baby… I can’t hold on any longer.”

“So fast, love? I was hoping you would give me time to enjoy as well.”

“Then fuck me, right now.” The numb feeling almost did not let you externalise your thoughts. “Please… I need you inside me.”

With a small nod, he took off his briefs and stood bare naked in front of you. “And that’s what I call a beautiful sight”, you thought, laughing on the inside. Klaus grabbed one of your ankles and, once more, opened your legs wide. Now it was time to do what you had been craving from the minute you saw him shirtless.

“Ready to scream my name, babe?”

“I think you’ll be the one screaming mine.”

Klaus grinned, grasping your buttcheeks and helping you straddle him. Once you were settled, the feeling of his bare cock touching your wet pussy was overwhelming, making both moan out loud. He helped to improve the pleasure by pressing your clit with his thumb, drawing small eight figures on it. Gosh, all you wanted to do was yell and ride him like crazy. Like he was the last man standing on Earth.

“Come on, love. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Oh, OK.”

You splayed one of your hands on his chest and used the other to lead his length to your throbbing core. Took only a split second for it to happen, but, when it did, you knew it was the best decision you had ever made. The Mikaelson was soft and warm, just like you imagined he was. Perfect. His large hands clutched your hips, making your body do the work. Your breathing came out harshly, it was pretty hard to do that when you were so focused on getting your pleasure.

“So fucking delicious, Y/N.”

“Oh-oh, Klaus!”

“Told I’d make you yell my name.” He winked and you laughed. “Fuck, babe.”

“I’m going to cum. So… Close!“

The pleasure sensation was spreading through your form, making you dig your nails so deep within his skin that you could see blood coming out. Of course you did not have any power to hurt him, well, at least physically speaking. Your true scream, the banshee one, could easily put him into a long sleep, but you had that under control, so you flooded the room with moans and gasps. Now the orgasm seemed a movement away.

“Cum to me, Y/N/N. As hard as you can.”

“Oh, f-fuck! Klaus!”

It was so wonderful that all you managed to do was curl your toes and throw your head back, claiming for mercy. No one had ever made you feel this way, not even Damon and boy he had a way with the ladies. You were truly amazed. However, Klaus did not give you time to digest what you had just felt, for he still needed his release.

“Just a little more, honey.”

“Cum inside my pussy. I want to feel how is it like to be fulfilled by an Alpha.”

“So smooth with the words, huh?”

Trying to rush things, you wiggled on his lap, this time being fully aware of his tight grip on your waist. A couple of minutes later, he clamped his lower lip between his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, cumming inside of you in hot spurts. But you wanted him to feel at least a third of what you felt, so you clenched your core around him, hearing the deep groan coming out as a response.

“God, I love you so much, Y/N!”

“Aw, I love you too, hun.”

A bit tired, you rolled to the side and closed your eyes for a second, maybe you could get some sleep. After that, it was the kindest thing you could do for your own body. The hybrid pulled you to lay on his chest and started to caress your hair. So lovely. It was the side of him nobody knew except you. And the main reason why you still believed he could be saved. Deep down, all he wanted was to be loved and you were more than happy to do that for him.

You blinked, sleepy, and started to draw small things on Klaus’ chest. Yet, before you could fall asleep completely, your doorbell began to rang and you covered your ears with a pillow.

“Oh, no! Who could it be?”

“Do you want me to answer the door?”

“Nah, I can do it.” You tried to stand, but your legs did not take it so well. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Put this on.” He threw a robe at me, putting on his own briefs. “I’ll help you get down.”

He picked you up, bridal style and took you downstairs, where the doorbell kept ringing loudly. And, even though you were pissed off about someone ruining your perfect afternoon, you laughed at the way that the blond treated you. If he was trying to spoil you, Klaus was doing it perfectly. Close to the big white door, he put you down and placed a hand on your waist, helping you to stand firmly.

“Now, who is it… Matt?” You widened your eyes staring the man outside. “What are you doing here?”

“What is he doing here?”

“It’s none of your business.” Your best friend, now boyfriend, as you assumed, answered, grumpy. “Now why don’t you leave her alone?”

“Don’t be so rude, Nik! What do you want, Matt?”

“I didn’t want to do this in front of him, but, since I have to, here it goes: I want you back. Ever since we met earlier and you told me you were somebody else, I knew I needed to win you all over again. That’s why I’m here now.”

“Oh.”

“Again, mate, leave her alone. She’s not available.”

“Is that so, Y/N?”

“Yes, Klaus is my boyfriend. We’re together. And I don’t want you back. So get out my house!”

Matt opened his mouth, but was not able to say anything. Eventually, he left and you could not help but be happy you were able to blow him off like. Now your day was perfect. Klaus smiled and massaged your waist, kicking the door so it would close.

“I guess you are already showing me off.”

“I kinda am. But I want to go New Orleans and show you off to a certain bartender.”

“So jealous!”

“No, no! I’m just stating the truth: you’re mine now.”

“I truly am.”

The Mikaelson smiled and you tiptoed, pecking his lips.

“I want to go with you to New Orleans.” You whispered.

“We can go wherever you want to go.”

“I’m sure we can postpone that talk for later, right? Because I’m really feeling ready for a round two.”

“Here or in the bedroom?”

“Oh, on my carpet. This ought to be good!”

Klaus kissed you and, while he did it, you knew you had made the right call. No matter what your other friends thought or how they would react once they find out, that wicked man was your soulmate, your best friend, and no one, absolutely no one, could shake this love out of you. And you could not wait to tell Rebekah all about it. You laughed, getting back to reality and centred your attention on the bright blue eyes in front of you. Under that sight, you knew the fun was just beginning.

4K notes · View notes