#quips or voice yet. i feel like she has a certain tone and way of doing it. but i might be crazy

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts: Chapter 3

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: I'm finishing up the fourth chapter and realized I never uploaded this chapter to Tumblr. So here we are! Getting this fic back on track and should have the next chapter up soon.

Chapter 3: Monsters

“You know she is a hag, yes?” Lae’zel’s severe and even voice cut through the sticky swamp air like a hot knife through a wedge of Durinbold cheese. 

The bog was a foul place, both in atmosphere and in smell. The air was thick with humidity and an ever-present smell of wet rot. Trees sagged and bent at jagged angles, their tired limbs wilting in the gloom, and a thin fog seemed to permeate every corner of the swamp. A hazy light filtered through the tree canopy, casting blotchy shadows upon the muddy ground. 

The path the four companions were following sank into marsh every several yards, forcing the group to pick their way through mire and muck. The slog was slow, and there was much complaining. Especially from one particular high elf who no one had told not to wear freshly polished leather boots. 

“I am like…seventy percent sure she is a hag, yeah,” Eli answered as she carefully stepped over a rotted tree limb, half submerged in murky filth. “I mean, she’s entirely too eccentric to just be a normal human, right?” 

She looked over to Astarion for support, who was currently trying to rub some manner of sludge off his doublet.

“She certainly isn’t playing Three-Dragon Ante with a full deck, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Astarion replied coolly before throwing up his hands and huffing in irritation, the stain unyielding.

Lae’zel hummed for a moment, considering. “Gale is eccentric and a normal human, is he not?” she questioned, amber eyes fixing on their resident wizard who, at the moment, was trying to free the hem of his robe from the clawing grasp of a gnarled tree root.   

Eli sighed. “Gale has a magic bomb capable of leveling entire cities in his chest. I would not call that normal.”

“You wound me, Eli.” Gale responded in a good-natured tone as he tugged his robe free and the group began moving once more.

“You consumed an enchanted bracer yesterday at breakfast,” Eli quipped, recalling the morning fondly. Karlach had been fascinated, quickly trying to get Gale to absorb several other items from their camp hoard and asking him if he “took on their powers,” as she put it. 

Eli chuckled at the memory before concluding, “You’re as deranged as the rest of us and it’s not up for debate.”

Their little group really had become a hodgepodge of oddities over the past few days. Karlach was settling in well, because where else would she fit other than with their traveling sideshow which included a vampire who could walk in the sun, a warlock who was recently transformed into a part-devil by his patron, an amnesiac with the compulsion to murder anything that looked at her crossly, and all the rest of them. 

Eli was starting to wonder if she had a penchant for picking up emotionally constipated strays. They were all kind of outcasts in some way or another. People just trying to get along in a world that had kicked them in the teeth and tossed them out with the garbage. She still had no idea why they’d all just sort of accepted her as their group’s figurehead, but she was beginning to feel a certain affinity for their gang of misfits. They were all fighting battles both within and without, and Eli couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with people who were struggling with their own personal demons, just as she was.

At least as the day wore on her constant headache had faded to a dull throb, rather than the brain splitting white-hot pain she’d been experiencing. Her memories were still lost, and whenever she tried to call upon them she was only met with flashes of red violence. Images of mangled bodies, ruptured limbs, stringy viscera…it all melted and jumbled together in a confusing blur of chaos. Her dreams were no better, and her nighttime raids on the camp’s supply of books and wine were no secret among the party. Both Shadowheart and Karlach had even joined her on separate occasions. Hells, she’d have a proper book club up and running soon.

“So,” Lae’zel’s stern voice brought Eli out of her musings. “You trust this hag?”

“No,” Eli nearly spat the word out in a laugh. Auntie Ethel, as she called herself, was a lot of things, and trustworthy was not one of them. Astarion’s assessment of Ethel as ‘positively demented’ was accurate, and hags were not known as an honest sort.

“Good,” said Lae’zel, slightly drawing out the word in approval. “Lest I remind you that the only way to remove a ghaik tadpole is a Zaith'isk.”

Eli could feel the gith’s eyes on her and she did her best not to bristle under what she was sure was a judgmental stare. “I am aware,” Eli said, trying to sound unfazed and relatively certain she was failing miserably.

Lae’zel continued to press. “And a Zaith'isk can only be found at a gith creche.” She laid emphasis on the last two words, as if she were pointing something obvious out to a very dimwitted child.

Eli felt the back of her neck and ears start to go warm as irritation stirred in her chest and tightened her shoulders. The throbbing headache at the back of her skull began to growl. 

“You don’t say…” Eli replied, quietly pleading to whatever deity she couldn’t remember worshipping to please just let her have the rest of the day without feeling like her brain was on fire. 

“I just did say.” Lae’zel shot back, drawing a sidelong glare from Eli.

Eli liked Lae’zel. For the most part. When she wasn’t threatening tiefling refugees or complaining about the lack of spice in Gale’s cooking. Though, to her credit, Gale’s food was kind of bland. 

The gith fighter was blunt, stubborn, opinionated, fierce and one hell of a talent when it came to steel and blade. Eli appreciated Lae’zel’s steadfast loyalty and belief in her people’s culture, and even felt a slight pang of jealousy for it. It grounded the warrior and gave her a perspective from which to view the world, something Eli did not have. Culture, family, heritage…they were the building blocks of a person. Even if a person rejected or outgrew those foundational aspects of themselves, they still provided guiderails – or at the very least an anchor for one’s identity. 

Without those things, Eli felt adrift and directionless in a vast and swirling ocean, constantly beaten upon the rocks before being dragged back down to drown.  

“Explain to me why we are seeking this hag who you do not trust and who cannot remove the tadpole,” Lae’zel said, driving at a point Eli knew was coming and one she wasn’t sure she had a decent argument against. “Instead, should we not be pursuing a more productive course of action?”

Eli sighed, rubbing at her temples as her headache began to mount. “I’m curious,” she responded rather lamely. 

“I see,” Lae’zel said with a tone that indicated the gith was wholly unimpressed by Eli’s reasoning. “So, the situation at Emerald Grove continues to escalate, goblins continue to terrorize the Sword Coast, the druid healer remains missing, and the tadpoles in our brains remain unremoved.” Eli internally cringed at the chiding way in which Lae’zel spoke. “But, let us humor your curiosity. What is the worst that could happen?”

The question hung in the air uneasily. The worst that could happen was…really fucking bad. Everyone could die. Eli and her merry band of misfits could all turn into mind flayers. The Grove could fall under the absolute rule of a tyrant and racist. And the Sword Coast could get fully and aggressively fucked. Why was this all her problem, again?

“Lae’zel, was that sarcasm I just heard?” Astarion chimed in, and Eli felt a pull of appreciation towards him. He probably hadn’t meant to run interference between Eli and her interrogator, but she was thankful for it all the same. 

Truth be told, there was a small part of her that hoped Auntie Ethel did have a solution for their tadpole troubles. While they weren’t the most honorable of sorts, hags were rather enterprising and shrewd. And given the nature of their unconventional problem, an unconventional solution would more than likely be required. Besides, if things went south, they could just kill her. That seemed to be a particular specialty of their group. 

“Sarcasm often accompanies truth,” Lae’zel said with a pointed tone. 

Astarion chuckled lightly and Eli felt something not unlike faint affection flutter in her chest. She very quickly shoved it down into the black hole within herself where all the things she didn’t want to deal with went. Nope. That wasn’t good. That was the very last thing she needed right now. 

It had been happening more and more since the night she’d made a complete fool of herself, drunkenly asking him if they were still friends. Still friends. Gods, she was such a loser, and Astarion surely thought she was a total basket case after that encounter. But, every now and then, he’d give her a smirk or say something that caused a laugh to bubble up, and then that weird and endearing feeling would creep up and holy shit was this not the time or the place! Besides, that man had more red flags than a circus, and it wasn’t like Eli was a bastion of sanity, so together they’d be about as functional as wet hot garbage. 

“How profound,” Astarion continued, oblivious to Eli’s distressing mental spiral. “This little jaunt in the swamp does seem to be a rather unhygienic deviation from more pressing concerns.” 

The appreciation she’d felt for him earlier poofed away, and Eli glared. “I will turn this whole party around if you all don’t stop your complaining!”

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight. “Oh, please do! I worry the putrid scent of squalor and anguish is never coming out of my clothes.” He ran his hands down his doublet, trying to smooth out some wrinkles, and sighed in an overdramatic fashion.

“I, for one, am looking forward to seeing Ethel again,” Gale chimed in as they continued to trod down the muddy path. All of them would be washing muck off their clothes for days. “Fey and the like often have access to magic that even a wizard of my caliber cannot wield. This deviation - as you put it, Astarion - could prove very advantageous if we play our cards right.”

Eli resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder at Astarion, who had surely just rolled his eyes so hard he could see up into his own skull. She could practically feel the disdain radiating off of him and pointedly kept her eyes ahead, scanning the dreary bogland for any sign that they may be nearing Auntie Ethel’s dwelling.

It took Astarion all but two seconds to quip back at the wizard. “Gale, your opinion is like the filth on my boots. Unwanted and irritating,” he said with all the cheer of a muddy wet cat as he paused to kick some grime off the bottom of one of said boots.

“It is a wonder any of you have survived this long,” Lae’zel said, glowering at Astarion as he continued to preen. 

“We are a rather astonishing group, aren’t we?” Eli asked with a small smirk, glancing back at the gith.

Lae’zel just rolled her eyes.

Eli was glad for the banter, as it provided some distraction from the pulsating headache growing behind her eyes. However, as they rounded a bend in the path where the trail began to climb upwards towards the interior of the bog, snaking away from the swampy shoreline, Eli was struck with a surging agony that flashed white hot throughout her head. She doubled over, the heel of her hand pressing into the ridge of her brow as a hiss escaped from behind her clenched teeth. Her stomach churned angrily, a hunger rising from deep within that neither food nor drink would satiate. Her head felt as if it were shattering into fragments, her conscious self being pulled apart at the seams as something else tried to push its way to the surface. Something feral, and frenzied and starved.

From somewhere behind her, Eli thought she heard Gale muttering a question. She then felt a hand on her shoulder and wanted nothing more in the world than to seize it and dig her nails into the supple flesh. She wanted to smell the crisp metallic tang of blood in the air as her fingers peeled back skin as if she were pulling the rind off a particularly ripe fruit, bloody pulp exposed and raw. The thought of her fingers sliding between muscle and skin, slick with blood, feeling fibrous sinew tear away and hearing the wet squelch and pop as she degloved flesh from limb…   

Fist clenched, her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she fought to keep control. A pleasurable shiver ran down her spine as her mind entertained depraved thoughts, and for a moment she thought she may vomit where she knelt. She was not herself. Her mind was splintering with a hundred craven desires…she wanted to walk across fields of ruptured bodies and feel the viscera turn to jam between her toes. Her muscles tensed and she flinched away from the hand, standing in a near delirious state and muttering some nonsense about “needing a minute” before stumbling off into the fen. 

Eli needed to put distance between herself and her companions. At least for the moment. At least until her head cleared. She slogged through the wetland, unfocused on where she was going, until she felt a dampness seeping through her boots. She stopped and blinked, trying to wrench her consciousness back from the brink. As her sight cleared and the world around her came back into focus, Eli found herself standing ankle-deep in water near a riverbank, looking out over the vast and gloomy expanse of the Chionthar River - the opposite bank obscured by fog. 

Sloshing her way back to shore, Eli stepped back onto somewhat solid ground just as she heard a rustling in the thicket. Her eyes shot up to see Astarion picking through the snarl of brush and weeds that bordered the muddy shoreline. His expression was one of exasperated frustration, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a grimace, as he tugged a booted foot free of the clinging bramble. 

“Gods below, this entire place needs to be tossed into Avernus,” he grumbled as he plucked a bur off his doublet and flicked it to the ground. Astarion then glanced up at her, crimson eyes guarded, although Eli thought she caught the glimmer of something else in his gaze…a flash of something softer. But it came and went like a spark catching alight then burning out just as quickly. “Are you…alright?” 

His tone was hesitant and uncertain, as if he were unused to the concept of asking after someone else. Astarion had an edge about him that never seemed to dull, as if he were always acting under the assumption that those around him would lash out at any given moment without warning. Eli wasn’t sure why, but she felt as if she recognized that particular brand of uneasiness. It was a tension that came from an impartial distrust of anyone and anything. A response to a life lived in a constant state of conflict, always ready for fight or flight. Something gnawed at the far recesses of her mind, tugging at a memory she couldn’t quite grasp. She understood that feeling, though she did not know why…

“I think I am. Now, at least," Eli said, rubbing at her eyes as her headache growled but remained tempered. Her mind seemed to be clearing and realigning itself to the present, no longer at risk of breaking and letting loose whatever atrocity lay coiled up inside herself. “You didn’t have to follow me out here. I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts.”

Astarion eyed her and raised a brow, disbelief apparent on his face. “My dear, whatever just happened in that pretty head of yours is not nearly as frivolous as you’re trying to make it seem.” 

Eli winced internally. He was right, of course, and it wasn’t as if she had been subtle when she’d walked off aimlessly into the bog after being doubled over and obviously in pain. Hell, given how she must have looked in that moment, he’d probably followed her to make sure she didn’t trod blindly into a sinkpit or end up ensnared by some flesh-eating swamp ficus.

She sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through her silvery hair. “I just don’t want to worry people,” Eli conceded. “We have enough to deal with, without adding my violent mood swings and absconded memory to the mix.” She spread her hands out, as if the gesture could represent the absolute shitstorm they dealt with on a daily basis.

Astarion considered her for a moment, expression thoughtful and impassive, before he shook his head with a small smile. “I believe you were the one who pointed out earlier that everyone in our weird little group is ‘deranged,’ as you put it.” He emphasized her choice of wording with a gesture of his hands, pantomiming plucking the word out of thin air.

The action brought a soft smile to her lips. She enjoyed Astarion’s embellishments and dramatics. The elf had a flare for the extravagant that she found both endearingly silly and strangely alluring…

Nope. No. Stop it. She shoved that twinge of attraction back down into the deep dark hole within and refocused herself. “Yeah, well, one of us needs to at least act somewhat sensible,” Eli quipped with a smirk. “Can’t have Zevlor and his lot figuring out how truly unhinged we all are. We may not get paid,” she said the last bit with more than a little fake indignation. 

Astarion played along, pretending to be scandalized and clutching his nonexistent pearls. “Now that would be a tragedy. I have every intention of hiring a witch at the first opportunity to hex Gale’s cookpot so it will only produce boiled squid,” he said cheerily. “I’m assuming that won’t be cheap.” 

Amused with himself, Astarion tipped his chin up, smirking at Eli with all the wiliness of a fox. For her part, Eli just rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on her face as she imagined Gale, flustered and put out, ranting about the juvenile use of magic. 

A thought occurred to her, then. Something unbidden and completely inane, but one she latched onto desperately. It was a joke that had bubbled up from the deep recesses of her broken memory, and though she had no idea where she heard it or in what context, she was delighted at the prospect of finding something among the rubble of her ruined mind. It set the tiniest flicker of hope alight within her that maybe, eventually, she may be able to recover more. 

Eyes bright, and with a reserved sort of hopefulness stirring in her chest, she gave Astarion a genuinely dorky grin and blurted out with all the self-restraint of a toddler; “What do you call a magician who cooks?”

Surprise overtook the elf’s face, and he tilted his head curiously with a small laugh, thrown by the sudden and highly abrupt tangent. Before he could speak, however, a snap sounded in the brush behind the pair. Both Eli and Astarion turned to find a man, tall and well built with slicked back hair the color of burnt coffee. His mouth, framed by a neatly kept goatee, was turned down in a grimace, jaw clenched, and in his hands the man held a very large crossbow - loaded and aimed in their direction. 

“I’d think twice before you get much closer to him, miss,” the stranger warned, eyes darting from Eli to Astarion as if he expected the elf to set upon him any second. “He’s dangerous.”

Eli frowned at the stranger, fingers curling reflexively into the beginning gesture for her Eldritch Blast incantation. “And yet you’re the one with a crossbow pointed at me,” she said warily, watching the man’s fingers for any twitch or movement on the trigger. 

Next to her, she could feel Astarion stiffen defensively, but he remained quiet. Had the stranger not had a crossbow bolt aimed in her direction, Eli would have been more curious who he was and his connection to Astarion. Due to his comments, she assumed he was aware of Astarion’s vampirism, though she couldn’t be certain. Her curiosity, however, would have to simmer in the face of their current predicament. 

“Call it a precaution,” the stranger said before tipping the crossbow in the direction of Astarion. “You know what he is? Vampire spawn.” He said the last bit as if it was supposed to be some revelation, venom laced within his words. 

Eli studied the tip of the crossbow bolt, noting how the sharpened edge glimmered faintly in the hazy light. Silver? She glanced back and caught the man’s eyes with her own, a growing dislike darkening her expression. 

“Old news, my friend,” she said with more than a hint of antagonistic sarcasm. “Known that since I met him.” 

This drew a somewhat startled noise from Astarion, whose gaze she could suddenly feel turn to her. “You did?” he asked with a genuine note of surprise in his voice. 

Astarion had not admitted to being a vampire spawn until the night Eli caught him creeping in on her as she slept, hungry and poised to bite. Up until that point, though, he’d done a rather poor job of concealing his nature. What with the bite scars on his neck and his pale, almost pearlescent, complexion. The fact he could walk in sunlight was an oddity, of course, but given that she’d just flown through Avernus on a mind flayer ship after having an illithid tadpole inserted into her brain, a vampire traipsing about in the sun wasn’t even the weirdest thing she’d seen that day.   

She chanced a quick sidelong glance at Astarion and quirked an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. It was kind of the worst kept secret in Faerûn. Shadowheart and I even had a bet about who you’d try to bite first.” Eli still owed her a bottle of sweetwine, come to think of it.

She shook the thought from her head and turned her attention back to the stranger who still had his crossbow trained on them. “Mind introducing yourself before you start a fight you’ll regret?” she asked, watching his body language for any sign that he may back down now he knew Eli was fully aware of her companion’s condition.

The stranger glared at her, and Eli sighed. Another day, another fight with some ignorant douchecanoe who was wasting the last moments of their life antagonizing her. That darkness inside of her, the thing that craved slaughter and whose language was only violence, shifted restlessly like a dog in a cage, pressing at the barricades with a cruel need. She fought to push it back, but gods she could imagine her hands tearing into his gut, ripping dying organs from the yawning wound, warm and wet. The iron scent of blood in the air. The agony twisting his face as he writhed. It would be beautiful brutality. 

Her headache was mounting once again, and through the throbbing pressure she heard the man say; “You can call me monster hunter.”

He braced his crossbow, targeting Astarion, and Eli was moving faster than coherent thought. She felt a force collide with her left shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance, and then the world melted away into a manic savagery that was both achingly familiar and terrifyingly transcendent. 

Flesh would rend. Bone would snap. And her hunger would be sated. For now. 

The headache faded, and Eli was suddenly aware of a thick and deep pain radiating from her shoulder. Her mind swam dully, like a bobber struggling to stay above water as forces tried to pull it down. She felt…tired. Dazed. 

Why was she on the ground? Was that her blood spattered across her bracers? Why was Astarion yelling?

“Godsdamnit! Why would you do that!” 

Something jostled her, and the pain in her shoulder flared. She groaned and tried to turn her head towards Astarion’s voice only to find she was propped up against him. He was kneeling next to her, a hand braced against her back to keep her seated upright while his other hand pressed into her shoulder. She grimaced, trying to ignore the searing agony rocketing down her left side, but found herself unable to focus. 

She looked up into Astarion’s face, head bobbing to the side, and squinted at him. A range of emotions flitted across his face as he looked down at her. Anger, frustration, exasperation…all common day-to-day expressions for the snarky and uppity elf. But there was something else, too. Something in the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his lips and the way his sharp, clear eyes stayed fixed on her. Concern…

“Do…what?” she asked, confused. 

Eli continued to watch his face, thinking dully about when she’d ever seen him worried and coming up with nothing. Well, she wasn’t in a great state of mind at the moment and kind of just wanted to go to sleep. She was probably just forgetting…

Her mind drifted…eyes closing wearily…

Astarion shook her gingerly and she let out a noise somewhere between a hiss and a growl. “That bolt you idiotically decided to jump in front of was laced with poison! Do. Not. Fall. Asleep.” He pressed at the wound on her shoulder and her eyes wrenched back open, pain flooding her senses and slamming adrenaline into her system.

“Fucking rude!” she yelped. 

Then, the pain was fading and a slow numbness was creeping down from her shoulder. It felt cold and soothing, and she was so tempted to just relax into it and fade away. Her head dropped and came to rest against his chest, eyelids fluttering closed again. 

“I think I just like to annoy you…” she said weakly, then gave a hiccupping sort of laugh. 

Astarion was trying to jostle her out of the daze again, only this time there was no pain and she felt too content to open her eyes as her head rested against him. 

“Eli! Eli! Shit!” He sounded so far away. So far…far…away…

“What do you call a magician who cooks?” Astarion asked, a hint of panic coiling around his words. 

From somewhere very distant, Eli remembered she hadn’t finished telling him her joke. A small laugh caught in her throat as she thought about it…but she really didn’t feel like talking right now. Gods, she wanted to sleep…

Astarion was shaking her again. “What do you call a magician who cooks! Eli!”

Fucking hell, he was loud. 

Eli groaned and tried to lift her head. Too heavy… 

…she needed to finish the joke…

“A…saucerer…” she said lamely, then laughed, head still slumped against his chest. She’d have to tell Gale…

There was some muttering, then a feeling of being lifted. The ground was gone. Her arms sagged. 

“You will not die,” she heard Astarion say from miles away. “You will not die because that was just awful, and it will not be the last thing you ever say."

Eli smiled to herself. She was hilarious…

Everything went dark.

[sareinadale]

"Who did this to you?" - Helsa 👀

here you go!! sorry for being super late 🥹 – but i hope you enjoy this one, i quite enjoy the minor twist i made for this short fic.

if you guys would like more of this, do send another prompt my way. i might put this up in a compilation on my AO3 soon.

—

“Who did this to you?” — based on poohsources prompt list.

Image credits: thethirdpersona & luxe-pauvre

The prisoner in question has been residing in one of the holding cells of Arendelle’s dungeon, hidden away from public view and banished ( for five years ) from the Southern Isles. For some, his punishment was deemed as a slap on the wrist, but for the prince, it was a humiliating one.

Such a decision to keep the prince in Arendelle was met with a serious protest from Princess Anna. Upon hearing news of her ex-fiancé’s arrival back on Arendelle docks three months ago, she almost went marching to the ship, with the full intention to send a few punches to his face. 

Thankfully the reindeer man stepped in and convinced her not to pursue her anger after receiving an urgent request from the monarch to calm the princess. Knowing her sister, she occasionally received a handful of complaints from Anna as she expressed her displeasure over the decision, mostly during dinner. To which, of course, she learned to play deaf each time the princess made her feelings known.

As weeks turned to months, Anna eventually learned to ignore the prince’s existence, only to remind her sister to “be careful” whenever she had to pay a visit to the dungeon. Today, of course, marks another once-in-a-week visit– which she begrudgingly fulfilled as part of the Isles’ agreement.

“Good evening, Your Majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?”

A cheery voice greets her as soon as her icy heels step inside his cell, however, she knew exactly why he assumed the tone whenever she’s here for a visit.

“I’m only here out of an obligation.”

“How kind of you.”

With an exasperated sigh, she took a seat on a wooden chair situated just opposite his bed, where a click was heard as the cell door closed behind them. She knew he was being sarcastic, as usual, but she learned over time not to take anything he said to heart. 

After all, how can she trust him after everything?

“Have you eaten?”

“Of course, whatever Your Majesty served, I ate them all. Beggars can’t be choosers, no?”

He quipped, still standing at the far end of the cell as the dimly lit room vaguely highlighted his slim physique. Hans was dressed in a simple white linen tunic and a pair of his navy blue trousers, his hair a little disheveled from the usual; but nothing out of the ordinary.

Their interaction has somewhat improved over the weeks– in the form of biting sarcasm and a more-than-the-weather topic. It is remarkable that the two have overcome animosity by at least pretending to be mildly cordial with each other. 

He, of course, seemed to have no problem adapting to his circumstances, clearly aware that Elsa’s grace is merely for diplomacy’s sake. He’s certain she wouldn’t change her views on his attempted murder and betrayal of her younger sister– and he’s not expecting her to do so anyway.

“As long as you’re alive, I suppose.”

“Ouch, that’s a little cold.”

“Good.”

A chuckle soon formed in the prince’s throat, before finally letting out a deep sigh as he said, “So. . . Did anything extraordinarily mundane happen before coming here?”

“. . . Not really. That is, I should count this visit as the ‘exciting’ part of the day– only because I’d rather be anywhere except the study room.”

“You flatter me, Elsa.”

“Don’t.”

She hissed, blue eyes glaring at the auburn prince as she sensed yet another mockery from him. 

The second he moved closer toward Elsa, he was seen ( slightly ) limping his way to sit on his bed. As her keen blue eyes noted his rather unusual move, she didn’t bother asking him at first. The second he unintentionally heaved a labored sigh, she began inquiring about his. . well-being. Out of politeness, of course.

“You seemed a little under the weather, are you alright?”

“Do I appear like so?” He asked, sounding a little taken aback by her inquiry.

“It is telling, unfortunately.” She replied, albeit still maintaining an air of distance. The last thing she wanted is to appear genuinely concerned for him. 

“Ah, maybe it’ll pass. You have my gratitude, regardless.”

Despite his assurance, she wasn’t sold on that, at least not entirely. The auburn prince carefully claimed a seat on the edge of his bed, a yelp slipped from his mouth and caused him to stumble forward as he lost his balance. 

For her, that was exactly the signal she was looking for. She rose up from her seat and rushed forward, kneeling on the floor. 

“Hans–”

“No, Your Majesty. I just lost my balance, but thank you.”

He waved a hand to dismiss her, and his eyes appeared shut while he slowly regained his breathing. The fall seemed, apparently, more grave than one would consider, as a normal person would’ve quickly stood back up with an embarrassed laugh.

The blonde, on the other hand, immediately stood up to fetch a portable sconce that hung on the opposite wall of the cell, with the intention to take a closer look at the prince. 

Swiftly, Elsa turned around with the sconce in hand. The small flame flickered momentarily as it slowly stabilizes, and she didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the light finally highlighted the prince’s handsome features– only to her realization that his face and his knuckles were badly bruised. 

His tunic, as it was somewhat sheer, carried traces of old blood; perhaps his own, which prompted her blue eyes to land on a large makeshift bandage that looked like a piece of old cloth, plastered on the upper right side of his chest.

“Who did this to you?”

Elsa asked, mortified to see the true state of Hans. As much as he was a prisoner, she believed he didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

“Nothing to be worried about, Elsa.”

“I said, who did this to you?”

“Do you want to guess?”

He said, finally regaining his energy to stare defiantly at the queen. For a moment, she hesitates. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch his face, which he surprisingly didn’t deflect. The cooling sensation that permeated from her palm made him grimace in return, all because the bruising pain he received recently hadn’t completely subsided. He wouldn’t say it out loud, of course, but it was somewhat nice to feel her soft cool hand against his skin– a relief, yes.

“The guards did this to you, isn’t it?”

“A custom for dungeon dwellers. Besides, Arendelle isn’t the only kingdom with this practice.”

“Still.”

“You’re too naïve.”

“I’ll send for a doctor right away. And I'll have a word with the guards after this."

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I need to write more Buffy characters aside from Buffy, Angel, and Dawn (well, I guess I’ve posted one fic with Spike).

And in the fic I wrote for NaNoWriMo, I was writing for everyone--well, everyone who’s still alive after season twelve--but no one has seen that.

Though I am glad that I’ve written for Dawn. Don’t get me wrong. Before tonight, I’d only written one fic with her (that’s seen the light of day). So I’m glad I posted fic number two tonight.

I guess I’ve also now written Harth.

And there are also other characters in the fic I wrote tonight, even if they’re not the main focus and there that much.

[quicksilverlightning]

The stranger fascinates him, as all oddities do. She settles into the village smoothly, and it's almost easy to forget that Akari is from Somewhere Else. She mingles with the settlers, doing small jobs and researching whatever task Laventon sets for her with a cheery smile.

It is this smile, more than anything else, that gives him pause. While not insincere, it never rings entirely true either, and Volo is very familiar with false smiles. Something in the curve of her mouth tugs at him, insists that all is not as it seems. It's the same sense that allows him to navigate twisting cave systems and see the path forward moonless nights; he feels the darkness waiting just over his shoulder and tastes it in the aura surrounding the stranger, an edge nearly imperceptible, but there all the same.

He suspects that she senses the same disparity in him, for his teasing and gifts are not reason enough for her to gravitate to him the way she does. She seeks him out often, leaving notes or messages with the other Guild members when he is working outside of Jubilife, jumps at every opportunity to travel with him, even if only for a short while. He certainly doesn't mind; Akari is pleasant company and he appreciates the chance to prod at the gaps in her memory. She gives what she can without complaint, though his questions occasionally leave her holding her head and he offers a bit of mint with an apology.

"It's fine," Akari massages her temple. "I just wish your questions didn't leave me with headaches." Volo laughs.

"Surely by now you know what you're getting into when you choose to travel with me."

"I do."

"Yet here you are." He slings an arm across her shoulders. "Still walking with your favorite merchant."

"Well, who else can I be honest with?" That edge is back, suddenly, and he stiffens.

"Come again?" Volo us careful to keep his tone light. She angles her head back to meet his eye.

"You can drop the facade, you know. I won't say anything."

"What do you mean?" He tones down the brightness, but keeps his voice airy. She sighs, turning away.

"I know you're like me. Touched by something else, something bigger than either of us." Her gaze wanders over the fields blooming with purple and white aster; Giratina rumbles in the space between worlds. "I know that's why you sought me out at first."

Volo is not a merchant, not in truth, but he does understand the principles of the job. An exchange needs to be valuable to both parties, else one soon finds himself with no customers at all. It is a risk, but a calculated one; he drops the mask.

"At first? What makes you think that anything has changed?" She looks up at him again and he knows for certain now; that touch of darkness is on full display in the corner of her smirk.

"Your arm is still around my shoulders."

Well. He can't pull away now, not without losing points in whatever game it is that they're playing. He laughs instead, bringing the buoyancy back to his voice.

"Perhaps I just like keeping you close," his hand squeezes her arm.

"Perhaps," she allows with a hum. "Perhaps, one day, you'll tell me why." She pulls away and Volo drops his arm.

"I'm afraid this is where we part ways, my friend," Akari has settled back into her role as Hero at an impressive speed. "I'm needed at the Diamond encampment at the moment." Volo offers a nod.

"And I have my own business to attend to," he shakes a finger at her. "Try not to do anything too spectacular while I'm not around."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she quips and turns on her heel, making for the plume of smoke in the distance. He watches her go, waiting for her form to crest the hill and vanish before hefting his backpack to settle more comfortably on his shoulders. How interesting. Arceus' chosen one isn't quite the paragon of virtue she seems.

Well, he supposes, turning to head deeper into the Mirelands. No one ever survived in Hisui by being pure hearted.

[bakusquad-assemble]

Can I request a Sero x reader/Bakusquad x reader who is dealing with a panic attack after Class 1A deals with yet another villain. Also no rush and I absolutely love your writing!

Aw, thank you so so much! I love being able to write for you! I also love all the love Sero gets on this blog, I’m not sure I do his character justice but damn we love to see it. No warnings on this one, just some sweet comfort and fluff. Hope you enjoy!

The sound of blaring sirens pierced through the night sky, dark and cold save for the flashing red lights that illuminated the students of class 1A. They sat huddled close together, blankets pulled tightly around their shoulders in attempts to bring them some semblance of comfort. It seemed as if your class was a target for misfortune, like the group of students were always in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you were being honest with yourself, the fear of the evil lurking around the corner at any given moment was really starting to get to you. You all somehow managed to escape each attack relatively unscathed, except for a few cuts and bruises that would heal in time, but you were still shaken to your core every time and couldn’t find the strength to keep it down any longer. You’re not quite sure when you started crying, letting the salty tears soak down your blood stained cheeks, but you didn’t even attempt to quell them. You let them consume you, wracking your body with sobs in hopes that it would bring you some solace. Instead you felt your body tremble, your stomach churning with all of the fear that you had kept down for far too long. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you whimpered out involuntarily, in hopes that no one would shift their attention to you.

That hope was shattered almost immediately though as the tall black haired boy who sat next to you straightened his back at attention. He had heard you take in a sharp breath, and upon locking eyes with your form he found his heart dropping in his chest like it was attached to a ton of weights; sinking to the bottom of a treacherous sea with ease. Hanta Sero has had a crush on you for some time now. There was just something about you he found so enticing, like a magnetic force was constantly surrounding you and pulling him in every time he wandered too close. You were best friends, constantly sharing laughs and inside jokes in the hallways at school, or having deep conversations late at night in the dorm common rooms. He cared about you so deeply, and seeing you like this; covered in your own tears and blood and shaking in fear, made him sick to his stomach. He was quick to act, his large hand reaching out for the small of your back to lend you consolation, but when you jumped back from him he quickly pulled away and put his hands up in the most non threatening way he could muster. You hadn’t meant to react like that to Sero’s touch, in fact, you craved his warmth more than ever right now. You wanted nothing more than to be engulfed by his comforting embrace as he whispered his latest horrible joke into your ear- managing to pull a laugh from your salty and cracked lips, but your body was on high alert after tonight. Luckily, Sero understood completely.

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s just me.” He reassured, his hands still up in the air in attempts to show you he meant no harm. He offered a sweet smile, despite feeling that same fear that overtook you, and you felt your body relax ever so slightly. You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweatshirt as the tears continued to spill like rushing waterfalls.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” you choked out, voice barely audible among the commotion that surrounded the two of you, but Sero heard you clear as day. He could see everything he needed to know written in your pinched expression. You were petrified, and he was going to do everything in his power to make you feel better.

“Woah, hey! don’t apologize!” Sero started, cautiously moving his hands down in front of him and reaching out for one of your hands,trying his best to read your expressions as he did so. You didn’t pull away and he delicately wrapped his large hand in your smaller one, his thumb rubbing comforting circles atop your soft skin. He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he’s never really touched you this intimately before. He tried his best to shake the sensation, and was thankful for the dark night sky for hiding the flush that consumed his features.

“Nothings wrong with you, y/n! I think we’re all a bit shaken up after that and it’s totally normal to be upset.”

The remnants of the dam that you had been holding up broke at Sero’s words, and suddenly you were sobbing uncontrollably and throwing yourself into his arms. The choked noises of anguish gained the attention of some classmates nearby, but you didn’t notice, nor care. You were lost in your own thoughts, in the fear of what could have happened, and the only thing keeping you grounded was Seros arms wrapping tightly around your torso and pulling you in against his chest. He brought the comforting circular motions to your back in efforts to soothe you while he rested his chin comfortably on the top of your head. If you were a bit more aware of your surroundings, perhaps you’d have noticed the way Sero’s heartbeat ran rampant in his chest, or the way his hands got clammy with nerves on your low back, but instead your mind lulled it out.

It was Kaminari’s voice that permeated the air first, though you kept your head situated in Sero’s chest, finding refuge in his closeness.

“Oh man, are they okay?” Kaminari stood awkwardly in front of the two of you, pulling his blanket snuggly over his shoulders to keep it from falling to the ground. Sero’s only response was to pull you in tighter and shake his head. Kaminari sighed out, his voice wavering as if he had just gotten over crying himself. You couldn’t help but look up from the confines of Sero’s chest just a bit, eyebrows pinched up in curiosity.

“Mind if I join you guys? Mineta isn’t exactly the best company in a time like this.” He tried to keep his voice light and playful, shooting your newly emerged face a warm smile. Kaminari didn’t wait for a response,however; instead picking the unoccupied spot next to you and squeezing in tight, enjoying the comfort the closeness brought him.

“Mineta is never good company, Bro. He’s a little scumbag” Sero quipped, sending a smile the electric boy's way. Kaminari chuckled, shrugging defeatedly.

“Hey! he can be funny sometimes!”

“I think that makes you a little scumbag too, dude. ”

You felt your throat stutter as you let out a breathy laugh. It came out choked and water logged, but it was a sweet little laugh nonetheless. Both of their expressions lit up, looking at each other before moving their eyes down to you, shocked by the sweet sound escaping your lips. Sero smiled widely, pulling you in just a bit tighter as he felt your shoulders get lighter. These boys always knew how to pull it out of you, and despite the fear still bubbling deep inside, their playful banter had you feeling kind of normal again.

“Woah, hey! Why didn’t we get an invite to the “we almost died but we didn’t and we still kickin it somehow” snuggle fest? Move over! I need some!” Minas voice was perky per usual, but even you could detect the hints of worry laced between each syllable. She was just able to use her personality to hide it well, something you had never been more envious of than right now. You straightened your back, pulling away from Sero to get a better view of the rest of your friends approaching. You tried your best to wipe your face free of any remnants of your breakdown, though seemingly impossible with the current state you were in. Mina was pulling Kirishima along behind her by the hand, keeping him close for comfort reasons you figured, and a certain scowling blonde wasn’t too far behind. It was as if he was tethered to the redhead, following against his will and dissatisfied with his new change of scenery, yet he continued to follow with a pout and his arms crossed heavily over his chest. After knowing bakugou for so long, though. His demeanor didn’t shake you, nor did his booming tone as he spoke up above the noise.

“The hell you all whining for? Some hero’s you are for being afraid of some lowlife discount villains that couldn’t even kill a bunch of high schoolers!” Kirishima nudged Bakugou hard, causing him to shoot the red haired boy an evil glare. It didn’t shake Kirishima though, he just shook his head at his blonde best friend.

“Read the room, Bakubro. We’re all kinda messed up about it. Even the manliest people get scared sometimes, you should know. ” Bakugou clicked his tongue in frustration, dropping onto the ground with a thud and pulling his knee up to rest his arm on it.

“I’d never be scared by some shitty ass villains and neither should you! They didn’t stand a chance against us! You’re all alive so stop complaining” Bakugou had locked eyes with you, and deep down you knew this was his makeshift way of trying to cheer you up. His way to remind you how strong you were, despite the tears and snot that ran down your face. You nodded softly to him, a faint smile ghosting your lips, and he quickly averted his gaze to anywhere but you. Mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out but appreciated nonetheless. You watched Kirishima take a spot of the ground near Kaminari, and Mina dropped to her knees in front of you, her eyes welling with the same tears that plagued yours. Her smile was gentle, caring, and it made you feel safe. Safe despite everything that had happened to all of you just a few hours earlier. In fact, just being surrounded by your friends filled you with a sense of comfort that you didn’t expect yourself to find. You weren’t sure if it was simply their presence, or if it was the puffy eyes and wordless smiles of understanding that laid hidden on their expressions.

“You alright, baby?” Mina asked, her soft and well manicured hands coming to rest on your soaked cheeks. And despite it all, you nodded. The tiny smile still ever present on your face. Because for the first time tonight, you were reminded that no matter how hard things get, no matter how many villains tried to tear you down, you would always have your friends to pick you back up- to put a smile on your face with ease when you felt just minutes prior that you may never smile again. You could never thank them enough.

“Yeah, I will be.”

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {2}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: Enjoy a surprise chapter a couple days early, we’re just too excited for y’all to read this story.

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2336

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Nesta was making her rounds as the sun set outside of their desolate war camp.

It had been a long day, one filled with losses. After the ambush two days prior, their tent had become full. Now, there were far too many empty beds.

It never became easier.

With every soul that she attempted to heal that passed from this world to the next, she felt like a failure, even though it was impossible to save every soldier that had been injured in the heart of battle.

There were victories, though.

Those who were left in the tent were improving.

The ambush had brought in nearly fifty injured soldiers, and just over twenty of them remained.

Including Corporal Cassian Nazari, who she was walking up to now, a glass of water in hand.

He blinked a few times against the light of the guttering candle on the table, but after a moment his eyes settled on her. Settled, but still glazed with pain.

“Nurse Nesta,” he said, voice rasping from sleep, attempting to resituate himself in the uncomfortable bed, with one good arm. “Is it time for my sponge bath already?”

She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

Most men in the infirmary were polite, respectful, grateful to be taken care of, especially knowing what befell their fellow soldiers who hadn’t been quite as lucky as they were. The first day she’d attended to the corporal, she’d assumed his inappropriate comment about foreplay had been some sort of unintended joke, something he hadn’t been able to control as he awoke.

But as Cassian slowly healed, Nesta learned those little comments were quite regular for him. And when he learned that they made her blush, or even snap at him occasionally, it only made him say them more frequently.

“I’ll give you a bucket and a sponge and you may help yourself,” she quipped. “Does that interest you?”

He laughed, quietly, but winced as it seemed the simple shaking of his shoulders brought a bout of pain. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You joke with me,” Cassian said, shrugging a shoulder. “You joke when you’re in a good mood.”

“I don’t joke,” she replied. “I only give back what is given to me, even though I do it in a far more appropriate way.”

“There are worse things than being inappropriate,” Cassian promised her.

Nesta simply shook her head. “Here.”

He took the pill from her palm and took it, swallowing it with the glass of water she gave him. For a moment, his eyes closed and he sighed, deeply.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, sitting down in the chair next to the table. He opened his eyes and she reached out to feel his head. He had been feverish the night before, and she was worried about infection setting in.

He was just as clammy as he’d been, if not more so. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but before she said anything, she wanted to hear it from him. Even if she was fairly sure it would be a lie laced with male bravado.

“Fine,” he replied, though he attempted to sit up with one arm again and winced. “Like I could get back on the battlefields right now.”

Rolling her eyes, she stood. “Too bad that won’t be happening yet.”

She strode for the medicine cabinet in the center of the tent, aiming for an antibiotic strong enough to stave off the infection. His own inability to keep still had led she and Madja to band his fractured arm to his side, but this kept the bullet wounds on his back from airing out. It was about choosing the lesser of two evils with this man it seemed.

Last night, they’d elected to set his arm. Tonight, it seemed he’d go back in the sling and she’d see what needed tending to on his back.

“Are you allergic to penicillin, Corporal?” Nesta asked, coming back to his cot.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I have a feeling that we’re about to find out for certain,” he noted, chuckling, then breaking into a cough fit.

“Alright,” she sighed, and pulled him fully into sitting position. “It seems you still have a fever. I’m going to give you this penicillin. Then, I’m going to take off your bandages and clean your wounds.”

“And then?” he asked.

Nesta blinked, hesitating as she a needle with the drug. “Pardon?”

“After you clean my wounds, what will you do?” Cassian asked, that sly smile remaining. “Because I have a few ideas-.”

“Corporal,” Nesta interrupted. “I am here to heal you, and nothing more.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “First of all, it’s Major, actually. It’s been years since I was a corporal. Secondly, I thought we could play a card game. What was it you were thinking?” Nesta’s cheeks heated and she ignored his pointed question. “My apologies, but Private Hale said—.”

“He knows nothing, which is why he’s only a private.”

She cleared her throat and held out her hand, letting him take the two pills in her palm. He did so, without any commentary, which Nesta took as a blessed relief.

She retrieved the sling his arm had previously been in, as well as fresh bandages, an ewer of fresh water and a bottle of antiseptic.

And a bit to put between his teeth in case the pin became too unbearable.

With a few tugs on the knots tying them together, Nesta unwrapped his arm from his body, not taking a full look at his back yet.

Almost immediately, Cassian tried to stretch out his arm, which earned him a chastising look from Nesta. “It’s tight,” he defended.

“If you move it too much before it’s had time to set and heal, tight will be the least of your worries, Major,” she replied, carefully tying the two ends of the fabric sling around his neck. “Not to mention your shoulder is still too weak as well. Do you want to dislocate it again?”

He grumbled something that sounded similar to No, ma’am, and sat still while Nesta settled his arm into place.

Once she tended to his arm, she prepared herself to examine his back again.

“This isn’t going to feel good,” she warned, taking in the angry, red skin puckering the edges of the wounds. They’d been able to retrieve the bullets while he was unconscious, but they weren’t in the most ideal and clean conditions for a healing to take place. Gently pressing her fingers around the mildest looking one earned a hiss and sudden jerk from Cassian. As well as puss, far more puss than Nesta was expecting. “I’m going to have to clean these out.”

“Can’t you give me more of that stuff that put me under and do what you need to do?”

His words weren’t unkind, but the tone… Nesta knew he was in pain.

She could, of course, but the powdered pain killer was much stronger than what she’d already administered. Not to mention is much, much shorter supply. It was reserved for surgeries, mostly, or life-threatening injuries.

An injury like the major had been brought in with at the time.

Not for a standard, but nasty, infection, unfortunately.

War was unfair, Nesta decided then. She’d known it for quite a while, watching good men die for their lands, but it was evident in that moment as she looked at the man’s ravaged back before her.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, at last. “But I promise to work quickly.”

He gave her a curt nod and braced himself.

The alcohol burned, she knew that, she knew that it had to feel like fire was being lit to the surface of the skin, but as she poured the alcohol over the wound and began to clean it, the only sense of pain that Cassian showed was his rigid posture.

“Bear with me,” Nesta muttered, beginning to rebandage the wound.

“Got any whiskey?” he asked.

Despite herself, Nesta snorted. “No, I don’t. Is that your drink of choice, major?”

She was trying to distract him, trying to make the time go by just a little bit quicker as she worked.

“Usually,” he said, and huffed. “Every now and then I like to order a simple lager.”

“Lager,” she repeated. “What a luxury.”

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, having to go so far as to scrape out the bits of skin that were too far gone and only likely to slow down the healing process. But when his breathing became ragged as she started on the worst of the wounds, the one right near his spine, she asked, “What’s the first meal you’re going to have when you get home? What have you been dreaming of since you enlisted?”

Mindless chatter, she reminded herself, was just as effective as a painkiller.

He was quiet for a moment, only hissing as she pressed the alcohol-soaked rag to his back. She had accepted he wasn’t going to answer when he softly asked, “Don’t you mean if?”

She was suddenly very thankful that she was working on his back and was unable to see his face. Playing dumb, she kept him talking. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you mean if I get home?” He asked. His voice was hollow, lacking the warmth it usually did when he spoke. It was unlike what she’d started to grow accustomed to. “This is a war we’re in the middle of, ma’am.”

She cleared her throat, continuing to work. “I think you ought to change your manner of speech, major, or you’ll be more likely to conscribe yourself to believe the worst.” Pressing a clean bandage to his skin to staunch the bleeding, she asked, “Now about that meal, sir?”

Surprising her, he laughed, quietly. “I guess I haven’t thought about it too much. My mother used to make a mean pork roast. With carrots and potatoes. That would hit the spot right about now.”

Nesta couldn’t help but lick her lips at the thought of a nice, hot, homemade dinner. “How about dinner rolls?”

Cassian hummed. “My mom used to make the fluffiest dinner rolls. She used to make me roll the dough. I hated it, until it was time to eat them.”

She smiled to herself. “My sister Elain loves to bake. She makes this pear crumble…” Shaking her head, she sighed. “It’s the best. Especially when she whips cream to put on top.”

“I don’t remember the last time I had a warm dessert,” he admitted, wincing as she applied antibacterial cream to the wounds. Turning to glance at her, he amended, “Actually, I don’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.”

The words hurt Nesta’s heart. The food they had in the med camps weren’t great, but she was sure they were better than rations the soldiers were issued.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he breathed, clearly needing the distraction while she worked.

Nesta sighed. “Which one?”

“How many do you have?” he asked.

“Two,” Nesta said. “Couldn’t be more opposite of one another. Feyre, the youngest, would rather spend her time painting, or outdoors in the woods behind our house, while Elain prefers to spend her time baking, or in her garden.”

Cassian nodded, thoughtfully. “And you?”

“What of me?” she asked, beginning to rebandage his wounds.

“What do you prefer to do with your time?” he pushed.

Nesta’s hands slowed. She wished she had more time to fill as of late. “I enjoy reading, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” he asked, then chuckled.

“What’s so funny about that?” Nesta asked, eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

“You either do or you don’t,” he said, shrugging, and wincing from the simple motion. “But, you suppose.”

Nesta scoffed. “Fine. I enjoy reading.”

“What manner of books?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Romance.”

He snorted. “Of course. Let me guess, a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue a damsel in distress?”

Nesta’s cheeks heated as his guess was nearly spot on of the plot of one of the tattered, well-loved books she kept in the small bag she brought with her from home. “And what’s so wrong with a knight saving a lady who needs help?”

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to shift his hurt arm. She adjusted the sling to hold him tighter. “I just think it’s a silly ideal to hold. Not everyone is going to have someone come save them.”

She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in a med camp in the middle of war.

“I guess you’re right,” she mused. “But I don’t see why that should stop anyone from dreaming.”

Cassian huffed and said nothing more.

When Nesta was finished, she asked, “How does that feel?”

“As good as it can,” he answered, in grumpy sincerity. “Although, I still wouldn’t mind that sponge bath.”

“Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously impossible you are?” she asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of it.

Cassian’s smile only grew. “If only you knew.”

Nesta’s chin rose as she tried to make sense of his remark, but she asked, “Can I get you anything else for the time being?” Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta interrupted with, “Nothing that has to do with sponges.”

He laughed, quietly. “A cure for boredom?”

Just as Nesta was getting ready to reply, a cry came from just outside the tent, and her body was tensing, preparing itself. Madja’s eyes connected with hers, and Nesta’s feet were immediately in motion.

Another body coming in, caught in warfare.

It seemed he would have to entertain himself, as Nesta was once again vividly reminded that no one may ever come to save her.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t save someone else.

[omg-imagine]

Loopy

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is a little loopy from her anesthesia, and Johnny finds it amusing.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Requested by @thescorpionrodriguez. Hope you enjoy!

“Come on, V, wake the fuck up already.”

Silence. Johnny swears he could hear a pin drop.

V’s body remains lax on the bed; her eyes wound shut as if she were sound asleep. Slow and rhythmic, the rise and fall of her chest were calming, lulling. For once, she looks to be in peace, a rare moment for those who live and breathe in Night City.

She had been lucky. Extremely lucky. Two or three millimeters more to the right and the bullet that pierced her abdomen would have hit an organ. By some miracle, it missed anything vital and had exited out cleanly. It did fucking hurt judging by the sound of her agonizing groans, but here she was—still kicking, still alive.

And Johnny’s relieved that she was. They may not get along at times, but he genuinely cares for V. Hell, he would even consider her a good friend. She could call him a snarky asshole as often as she wants (and she does), yet he knows that deep down, she too has grown a soft spot for the rocker boy.

It’s been hours since the mission that went awry, and Johnny was getting pretty antsy. Vik had to put V down while he worked on repairing her cyberware. Nothing major, though the anesthesia should have certainly worn out by now. Much to Silverhand’s surprise, the ripperdoc wasn’t acting all too worried about it. He thinks V could use the sleep since he’s aware of how little she’s been getting.

Unfortunately, Johnny was all but a patient man. Bored out of his damn mind, he’s tired of roaming around the operating room, waiting and waiting for V to regain consciousness. Johnny’s more than ready to leave, perhaps grab a smoke afterward. He hasn’t gone this long without one lately, and he can’t enjoy one if V’s lying here, knocked out cold.

Nearly the rest of the day flies by, and the sun begins to set. That’s when he feels it; a spark—a familiar jolt of electricity emitting in the depths of V’s mind. Johnny manifests by her bedside, watching as her body finally stirs awake. That’s my girl, he silently praises, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips. V’s eyes flutter open, taking a minute to survey her surroundings before her line of sight lands on him.

“Well, look who decided to come back to life,” Johnny quips, leaning closer. “You doing alright, kid?”

V doesn’t respond. Rather, she bursts into a fit of giggles out of nowhere.

What the fuck?

Bewildered, Johnny glances everywhere but notices nothing amusing of the sort. “Care to share what you find so funny?”

“You’re too good looking to be my nurse,” V drawls, no doubt experiencing side effects from the anesthesia.

“I’m no nurse, princess, but thanks,” he corrects her. Then, it dawns on him. “You recognize me?”

She blinks at him blearily, the gears in her head turning as she tries to put a name to the face. “I dunno, should I?”

“It’s Johnny. Johnny Silverhand. Ring any bells?”

Again, V chuckles, a light-hearted tone that Johnny rarely hears, but they were sweet music to his ears when he does.

“Nope, zero bells. Are you like my husband or something?”

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Husband? Oh, no, honey. We ain’t even gone on a date yet. I’d say, think of us as partners-in-crime.”

“Wait!” V blurts out, gasping. “I remember you. You’re from that band—Samurai, right? God, I used to listen to your songs a lot as a kid.”

“Huh, you told me you’d never heard of Samurai,” Johnny recalls, slightly entertained at this point. “Didn’t peg you as a fangirl, V. I’m flattered.”

“So, can I… y’know, get your autograph?”

Just before Johnny could continue playing around with a loopy V, Viktor strolls in with Misty in tow, both delighted to find the merc out of her prolonged slumber. He lingers by the foot of her bed as Vik explains to V what happened, but she doesn’t seem to be processing it. She stares at him, dazed, and Johnny wonders when she’ll be back to normal.

“The effects should go away in a few hours,” Vik informs Misty once he’s examined V. She’s healing nicely and isn’t complaining much, yet that could be because of all the painkillers she was jacked with. “I’d say watch over V until she can stand on her own two feet without tripping. Other than that, she’s good to go.”

“Where are we going?” a clueless V asks, looking back and forth between the two. “Is Johnny coming?”

Misty furrows her brow at her. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, mister sex on legs over there,” she points eagerly, and Johnny smirks at that. “I’m not done talking to him yet.”

Vik shakes his head before reminding Misty of the engram residing within V’s psyche. “Oh, yeah. Silverhand. Uh, I guess he could come, too. Don’t really have much of a choice there, doll.”

The walk back to V’s apartment was a journey in itself. Lucky for her, she was pushed in a wheelchair throughout it all as Johnny stays visible for her benefit. They reached the door just before the skies turned completely dark, the warmth and comfort of the room being somewhat familiar to V.

Misty carefully moves her onto the bed, propping her up with pillows behind her back before smoothing out the blankets covering her legs. Johnny observes from a distance, quiet in his pondering. He’s never seen V this vulnerable before. She’s always been incredibly independent, not to mention stubborn as hell. She won’t accept anyone’s help unless it’s dire, and even then, she’s reluctant to do so.

“You must be starving,” Misty comments once V is settled. “How about I get you somethin’ to eat downstairs. Better food than what’s here, if there’s any. Hang tight for a bit, ’kay?”

Nodding, Misty then heads out of the room, the front door sliding shut when she’s gone, leaving V in the presence of Johnny yet once again. He glitches to sit by the edge of the mattress as V stares at him incredulously. Her eyes shone what he could best describe as innocence; she truly has no clue of what they’ve gone through together in the previous months.

“Can you sing me a song?”

Johnny narrows his gaze, a small chuckle rumbling in his throat at her deliriousness. “I don’t do concerts anymore.”

“Oh, come on!” V pouts, almost child-like in her ways. “Pleeease?”

“No,” he refuses sternly before an idea comes to mind. “How about you sing to me? Said you were a fan. Give me a performance, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

V does not hesitate. On cue, she starts to serenade Johnny with one of Samurai’s greatest hits, going as far as imitating the gruffness of his voice. Off-beat and lyrics garbled, V belts out the tune confidently and loud enough that her irritated neighbors began banging on the wall, yelling at her to quit it.

She ignores them, of course.

Meanwhile, Johnny’s having the time of his life. It was quite endearing to him, although embarrassing for V if she later finds out about this. Yet, he doesn’t stop her. He encourages her even further by singing along, not giving a fuck in the world.

At the end of the song, Johnny laughs heartily along with V, who had crawled closer to him. Their eyes meet for a moment that seems to last longer than it actually did. His mouth quirks up in a smile, the kind of smile that was reserved for her and her alone.

“You’re pretty cool, Silverhand,” V mumbles sleepily, touching the cold surface of his chrome arm. Sighing, Johnny guides her drowsy self back under the covers, certain that she would crash in the next minute or two. “I think you should take me on a date. We’d be a hell of a couple together.”

“I think you’re going to regret everything that’s happened just now when you wake up in the morning,” he returns, and there was a slight pang in his chest.

V only hums in response, and he doubts he had even heard what he last said. It doesn’t matter, however. Johnny was sure she wouldn’t want to bring this up again.

---

“Fuck…” V exhales groggily, her blinking eyes wincing at the bright sunlight flooding into the room. She feels pain all over, her head throbbing immensely as she tries to gather memories of the day prior. It comes back in bits and pieces until suddenly, she remembers everything.

Everything.

“Good morning, princess,” Johnny greets after materializing before her, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. ��How ya feelin’? Still loopy or need a little more refreshing from ‘mister sex on legs?’”

V’s reflexes are quick; Johnny doesn’t even register the pillow being hurled at him at first. He only realizes it when the empty glass bottles on the center table falls to the floor, shattering and making a mess.

“You’re lucky you’re just a hologram, right now,” V muttered as she stands up unsteadily.

Johnny holds his hands up. “You were the one who said it.”

Rolling her eyes, V reaches for the painkillers Misty left on the side. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, but at least let me tell you that you’ve got a shitty voice.”

“That’s why I don’t do karaoke,” V snorts before swallowing the pills and heading to the couch. “So, what do you think?”

“What do you mean?” Johnny questions.

“You, me, dinner?”

V waits for his reaction, smiling coyly at his confusion. When Johnny finally understands what she was referring to, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“Wait, are you fucking serious?”

She lets out a chortle. “Yeah, I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mortified about last night, and I’m never going to let Vik knock me out with that stuff again. But hey, the truth came out. Might not have remembered you, but even while high as fuck, I knew I liked you.”

Briefly, they traded a look of longing, acknowledging at last this deeper connection they’ve felt for a while. It was much more than sharing a body, a mind. Something more profound than what Johnny and V have experienced before in their lives.

And though it was all entirely new to them, they both wanted it. They both wanted each other.

“Better get to it then,” Johnny flashes a grin, mirroring V’s own. “Wanna start with breakfast? Bet you’re hungry after skipping what Misty brought you, samurai.”

“Never going to live that one down, are ya?”

Shooting her a cheeky wink, Johnny throws on his stylish pair of aviators with ease.

“You bet your ass I’m not.”

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse​ @overheardatthecontinental @life-is-fuucked @ataraxydreams

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) Part 4

A/N- Hoping this one has come out a bit happier than the last instalment! I’m trying my best to not write Mycroft too out of character and focusing on how much more emotion he had displayed in season 4.. I have a few more chapters planned out so far and I am hoping to, at the very least, update weekly! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and, please, don’t forget to leave a comment letting me know what you think! Kind words or constructive criticism are always welcomed and inspire me to write more! Thank you!

Word Count: 4416

"Did you fancy doing anything else today? Well, this evening I suppose suits better." You asked Mycroft, clearing up the plates from dinner. Dinner here being a term used loosely- after the emotional turmoil only a few hours ago at the revelation of both yesterday's events and your inner attractions, neither of you particularly felt like cooking, or eating for that matter, and settled on a sandwich just to provide some energy.

The energy of the room had felt different now, now that everything was in the open, now that the pair of you had finally broken that barrier to move further in your relationship. It was nice, calming. The pair of you weren't children, the confirmation of shared attraction didn't mean you immediately jumped each other, or feel the need to be constantly touching in some aspect or another- but the mere idea of knowing that the attraction between you was mutual, and that you wanted to act upon that was more than enough for now. It felt incredible.

"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" He hummed back, standing from the small table in the kitchen to help you with the washing up- not that you weren't fully capable of doing so yourself, it just felt nice acting a little domestic- electing to wash the dishes himself and leaving you to dry them and put them back in the cupboard. You shrugged, closing the cupboard's door and leaning against the counter.

"St James' is just round the corner isn't it? We could go for a walk? The weather is oddly nice for September." You suggested, grinning as you watched Mycroft look down at his current attire of jogging bottoms and a band t-shirt. You didn't need the power of a Holmes to know what that face meant. "Compromise. You don't have to wear the joggers in public, but you also cannot wear a suit, I swore against it."

"If you're suggesting for me to leave my home in my undergarments you've completely lost your mind." You looked at Mycroft and allowed his brain to think a little more. "Oh bugger you can't mean-"

"You and I both know you have a pair of jeans in your wardrobe Myc. Joggers or Jeans, the choice is yours." Mycroft opened and closed his mouth multiple times before rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath that sounded Latin. "Oi at least have the decency to do it in French so I have a chance of understanding what you say when you swear at me." You quipped, jokingly throwing two fingers up at him as he gave in and sulked up the stairs.

"Tu seras la mort de moi." His voice was still quiet, but loud enough for you to understand him.

"Et pourtant tu serais perdu sans moi." You shouted back, teasing a little. Mycroft didn't answer but smiled to himself as he walked into his bedroom, agreeing with you completely but too high in his pride to admit it. Downstairs, you rummaged through the other bags from Anthea, feeling thankful as you saw that she had equally bought you some hoodies too, pulling on a maroon one before grabbing and sliding on your boots. A few minutes later you heard Mycroft's voice from upstairs, muffled completely excluding the 'goodbye' that sounded as he left the bedroom and made his way down the stairs. "Planning my arrest were you? Should I be expected to enter the park to MI6 agents dragging me into a car and shipping me off somewhere for forcing the British government into denim?" You turned around and saw him in his change of attire, whistling approvingly at the sight of him in the dark grey pair of jeans you had bought him a few years ago- 'because you cannot walk into a pub wearing anything purchased on Savile Row, Mycroft'- and the navy blue blazer he had chosen to match with them; the small evidence of The Who's logo peeking out slightly between the lapels. It was seldom Mycroft wore such casual clothing, but feeling welcomed by your reaction certainly made him more comfortable. Maybe at some point you'd tell him it's because those jeans make his bum look incredible. Mycroft's cheeks flushed and he shook his head, ignoring the noise of encouragement you had made.

"MI5, actually, but do not be too alarmed- I've insisted they only use force if absolutely necessary." He teased, hoisting his scarf from the coat rack by the front door and expertly wrapping it around his neck. You jabbed him lightly in the arm, knowing he was joking but equally wanting to make sure the phone call wasn't from Sherlock already pestering him about something or another. "It's fine, truly. Nothing to cause government upset.. only public." You went to question what he meant but was instead caught off guard by him eyeing you up. "Are you really going out.. in that?" Mycroft gestured to your clothing and for a brief moment you felt a little insecure, frowning slightly at him. He caught on immediately and apologised. "No- I mean.. You will likely get cold, will you not? A hooded sweatshirt isn't the warmest item of clothing I can offer you." You grinned at his concern and just passed him his beloved umbrella (it wasn't raining, but that didn't make a difference) before opening the front door.

"Myc I have pulled bodies out of the River Thames wearing nothing more than a pencil skirt and a blouse, I will be fine." You grabbed his hand and tugged him outside, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to argue back but he knew any attempt would be futile- you both knew that you could be more stubborn than Mycroft and so he didn't wish to cause harm on what could be a splendid evening. You took your normal position beside Mycroft, your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, while his rested in his pocket, the other holding onto his umbrella handle. The chill of London's air brushed the back of your neck, leading you to pull the hood of your jumper over your head before continuing your walk, not allowing Mycroft to have the pleasure of knowing he was right. but also not missing the smirk that tugged at his lips as he noticed- of course he bloody did.

The short walk to the park was in a comfortable silence. Mycroft found himself thinking over today's events, how even he couldn't have predicted that this would be how it would end. He was certain you would have left earlier, he'd even prepared himself for the chances of a punch to his nose in anger, and so never in his right mind did he expect you to stay, let alone embrace him while he cried, forgive him for the unforgivable, to... kiss him. He felt childish thinking back on it, but he kept replaying that moment over in his mind. It wasn't a proper kiss, it was barely there at all, and yet, if Mycroft thought hard enough he could still feel the light pressure of your lips on his, and it left him eager for more.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Your voice distracted him as you walked down the final street before the park. He blinked, looking down at you, at your joint arms and offering a smile.

"Just that I didn't expect today to happen the way that events turned out." You opened your mouth to make a comment about how Mycroft knew everything but he cut you off. "I deduce, I cannot predict the future, Y/N."

"But you can mind read?" He raised his other hand, one finger to his mouth in a 'shhh' motion and you grinned.

"Penny for yours?" You hummed in response as you looked at yourself in the reflection of a car window and pouted, rounding the corner to walk through the park's gates.

"I look like an egg." Mycroft let out a rare laugh, caught off guard by your answer. "That you do, my dear. But a rather beautiful egg." It was your turn to flush now. Getting any form of compliment from Mycroft Holmes was a rarity, and when they did come to surface they were usually on one's intellectual skills, or the times where you'd go out to a fancy restaurant and he would claim 'your dress' was beautiful, but never you directly. Your lack of response made Mycroft nervous and he spoke again. "Apologies, upon reflection that was a very backhanded compliment." You squeezed his arm and nudged yourself in closer, welcoming in the warmth his body was emitting.

"No no, I am incredibly flattered to be deemed a beautiful egg." You laughed. "It would make a lovely epitaph don't you thi-." He tensed. "Yeah, sorry, bit soon." You continued your walk for a little further before something clicked in your mind and you stopped in your tracks. Mycroft stumbled a little at the sudden cease in movement and shot you a confused glare. "Myc.. There's nobody else here."

"Excellent observation, Y/N. I now understand why you're so well respected down the Yard."

"Git. I meant.. we're in one of the most tourist centred parts of London, in the early evening, and there's nobody here." Mycroft raised his nose a little in the air, a movement witnessed by anybody else that would be mistaken for smugness, or being pretentious. But on Mycroft you knew it meant he felt a little embarrassed, raising his head ever so higher so you couldn't see the dusting of red on his cheeks. "The phone call... Mycroft bloody Holmes did you abuse your power as a government official to rent out the entirety of St James' park so that nobody would have to see you in your jeans?" He avoided your gaze and you began to laugh, removing your hand from his arm as you wiped a tear that spilled down your cheek out of amusement before tugging him over to a bench that was a few feet away.

"Should I not have?" His tone was light, relaxed knowing that you weren't mad with him and that you found the situation entertaining.

"It's not that.. It's just that nobody else WOULD." You rubbed your numbing fingers together and tucked them inside the sleeve of your hoodie. "You. Are an extraordinary man, Mr Holmes. You never cease to amaze me." He smiled softly, tentatively reaching over to take your half sleeve covered hand into his own pale one.

"And you, are freezing." He commented. You dismissed his assessment and instead focused on the view in front of you, the slight appearance of the London Eye poking above some trees from across the Thames.

"After living here for so long, sometimes I forget how beautiful London truly is." You spoke, shuffling the rest of your hand from your sleeve to lace your fingers between his. He hummed in agreement as he watched on. "And you stole this view from thousands of visitors this evening for the sake of your own dignity and so we could be alone. What do you have? People guarding every entrance? A few loitering around somewhere to make sure there were no stragglers? Christ are they armed? It just so.. so.." Mycroft felt himself become uncomfortable.

"I can be a very selfish person Y/N, you know that."

"I was going to say sexy but now I feel as though I'm not being as sympathetic to the tourists as you were expecting me to be." Mycroft tensed again and you leant to rest your head on his shoulder. "You should probably try to get used to that. I've been waiting a fairly long time to actively be allowed to say things like that to you and it not sound really weird, so I'm making up for lost time."

"How long?" His voice was quiet, likely his mind recovering from you, for the second time that day, calling him such a thing. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he was extremely flattered, but he just found it very hard to believe that you truly thought that way about him; that anyone could. You thought for a moment, childishly using your fingers to count.

"How long since I realised I had a thing for you? As of today it's been 5 years, 3 months and 17 days.. or, in less creepy terms to not make it seem like I've been counting, 2 weeks before I broke up with Thomas. It didn't feel fair to keep dragging him along, especially when I started to look forward to meeting you for dinner much more than I did meeting him for our weekly date night. He's a lovely guy and deserved more than that. I tried for those couple of weeks to get over it but I couldn't." Mycroft stayed silent but you could practically hear his brain whirring. "How long did I wish that you somehow felt the same way about me? Probably 5 minutes after the last thought." You laughed, feeling ridiculous for sounding like a school girl with a crush. "What about you? Pining after me for long or just spontaneously after I kissed you?" You joked, trying to make the whole ordeal feel a little less embarrassing. Mycroft shifted in his seat, laying his focus in the warmth that he could feel spreading to your hand that he held in his. He wasn't the type for large exclamations of emotion, or really speaking about the way he feels at all. But, upon hearing your revelation, he bit the bullet and spoke.

"I have never been the kind of man to experience typical human emotion. Until yourself and Gregory came along, I hadn't even the experience of having acquaintances, let alone.. friends." His eyes stayed forward, watching as the London Eye rotated slowly and focusing on its movements. "Approximately 6 months prior to the time you have mentioned, I began to realise that the way I felt towards you was far different to the way I felt about Gregory, and not the same way I feel towards Sherlock. I pressed the thought into the back of my mind for the better part of a year, before Sherlock told me that you were 'obviously' experiencing some kind of affection towards me, which I told him was preposterous, but from then the thought of you in that aspect felt welcoming. I had never expected in my life to have those kinds of emotions for anybody, let alone have them reciprocated, but I still chose to ignore them. I chose to keep you as my friend rather than risk losing you at all.. Then Eurus happened. Seeing you on that.. screen. Knowing what they could do.. Knowing I could lose you anyway.. it flicked something inside of my brain that made me regret not talking to you about it sooner. I was trying to work out the right way to bring it up, but then you did it for me." The side of his mouth flicked up into a small smile and disappeared, the embarrassment of talking so much on emotion taking over.

"You still look cute when you're embarrassed." You commented, not wanting to elaborate on his wordings more. It meant everything to you that he had even said that much, so you weren't going to push him further out of his comfort zone by pestering on. "Though as much as I'd love to look at your little flustered cheeks in this moonlight, I have to admit that you were right and I am bloody freezing, can we go back?" You took your hand back from his briefly to rub against your other one, a feeble attempt to bring warmth back into your fingertips. Though warmth soon enveloped round your neck as you felt Mycroft begin to wrap his cashmere scarf around you, folding and wrapping it expertly until you felt comfortably warm, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his cologne that loitered in the fabric.

"I'm always right." He grinned smugly, standing from the bench and offering his elbow out to you once more. You nudged it away, missing the disappointed look on Mycroft's face, before instead grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers between his and tucking them into his pocket for warmth, your other arm folding over your body to hold his arm.

"I'll prove you wrong on that at some point, mark my words." You beamed, starting the walk back to Queen Anne's Gate and relishing in the warmth of the taller man beside you. Mycroft couldn't hide the small smile that appeared on his face from your action, choosing himself to push closer and close the gap between you even more. He swiftly pulled his phone from his pocket, leaving his umbrella dangling from his wrist, as he made a quick call to Anthea.

"I suppose we better let the tourists have their park back.. at least for now." He spoke, more to you than to Anthea but nonetheless she relayed the message to security who began to pack up and reopen the gates to the public. It had barely been a minute before they had all left, all except the PA in question who watched on fondly upon seeing the pair of you leaving, fighting the urge to text the man that it was about damn time.

***

The walk back was incredibly quick and you soon found yourselves walking back through the front door, discarding layers of warmer clothing, Mycroft opting to put the sweats back on in place of his jeans.

"I'm thinking we have a cuppa and then head to bed? I'm knackered." You proposed, flicking the kettle on and settling back to rest on the edge of the kitchen counter. Mycroft hummed in agreement, reaching to grab the necessities. You quickly kicked off from the counter and wandered back into the front room, pulling Mycroft in tow. "Seems as good a time as any to have some music on, Greg made me this mixtape a few weeks ago. He said it's some classics I already love, and a bunch that I'm going to, so it sounds pretty promising." From behind you Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "If you're about to chastise me for calling a CD a mixtape, don't waste your breath. Mix-CD just sounds horrendous." He stayed silent, inwardly amused at the fact you hadn't even seen his face and yet knew exactly what he was going to say, and you called him the 'mind-reader'. The Kinks began to play quietly through the speakers, 'Have a Cuppa Tea' fittingly being the first song to play on shuffle. Usually you despised any type of mixtape, or 'best of' albums, claiming rather strongly that they defeated the point of artists bringing out the original albums, ruining the story behind each one. But when it came to Greg you trusted him completely with music taste and had never been disappointed thus far. The click of the kettle in the kitchen sounded, making you walk into the other room and prepare your drinks- you hadn't bothered asking Mycroft the way he had it, you had that burnt to memory years ago. Perching back onto the sofa besides Mycroft, you handed him the beverage and sighed in content.

"You missed the Sex Pistols. Forgive me if I cannot hear you for the next 20 minutes, I have a feeling that my ears have bled." He teased, taking a sip of his tea and settling it on the table beside him. Before you had a chance to answer, another Kinks song began to sound in the room, the slower rythm of Waterloo Sunset.

"You're going to pay for saying those things, you know I love the Sex Pistols." You pouted, moving your own tea to the coffee table. "I think, Mr Holmes, you need to dance with me in ways of apology." You grinned, standing up and holding your hand out to him. "It's a rare slower song from Lestrade's musical repertoire so I'm not expecting you to start headbanging or anything.."

"Do people slow dance to Rock music normally?" He asked, smiling.

"No they don't.. but when have you ever been a man who follows the rules of normality?" He took your hand at that, standing himself up and leading you to an emptier part of the room, tea forgotten. You softly placed your hands on his shoulders and rested your head on his chest, his reaching round to settle on the small of your back as you began to sway together slowly, the only sound that could be heard was the music and Mycroft's erratic heartbeat that he was sure meant he was going to have a heart attack. "See, this is nice." He hummed in agreement, the vibrations of his deep voice reaching his chest and vibrating against your cheek. "We could have done this years ago.." You commented, thinking on all the lost time you had with Mycroft, all of the years you had listened to music together and could have danced, holding each other as close as you were now.

"We'd have struggled being as Gregory only gave you this CD a few weeks ago.." You laughed and swatted his shoulder.

"You know what I mean.. oh the power of cowardice and fear." You closed your eyes, holding onto this moment as though you had never wanted it to end. Alas, the song began to come to a close, and yet neither of you made an attempt to move. The instrumental introduction to your favourite Clash song began to play and you grinned. "Now this is a song. I'm surprised Greg put it on here, I'd have thought he'd be sick of it by now with the amount of times I play it at work." As the vocals began you felt Mycroft stiffen in your arms, the fingers on the hands on your back began to dig into your skin slightly, not painful, but protective and his heartbeat picked up pace even more.

"Could we skip this one? Please?" His tone of voice was different this time, not the calm, relaxed voice that he had earlier, nor the playful one he had only moments ago. He sounded.. unsettled.

"You're joking right? Mycroft this relationship will have a rocky start if you force me to turn of The Clash at all, let alone bloody 'Death or Glory.'" He tensed again hearing the song's title.

"Please.. it's the one.." Your brain began to piece together his words and you lifted your head from its position on his chest, looking up and seeing the pained expression on his face. Of course, out of every song in the world, this was the one you were listening to when Mycroft said he saw you on the screen, inches away from death. You closed your eyes and sighed.

"I'm not letting this happen. I'm okay, I'm here, alive. This is my happy song, and I have so many wonderful memories from it." It wasn't a lie. The sound held memories of countless car rides with Greg, it was the song that played when you had the phone call about your promotion at work. It had even been playing when your sister phoned up to let you know that she was pregnant with your niece. Both times. It was a bloody good song. "I understand why you don't like it, but you just need to associate it with something better, give it a new memory." You moved your arms from his shoulders to wrap around his neck, shifting one hand to place onto his cheek as you reached yourself up on your tiptoes to become closer to his height.

You caught his focus, making his eyes land on your own rather than being dazed as his mind went back to you dancing on that screen. You leaned yourself in closer, just enough for your lips to ghost over his own, before closing the gap. Unlike the last peck you had given him, this was a far more passionate kiss, giving him the emotion you had kept pent up for the last five years. His grip on your back softened, one hand reaching to your upper back to push you closer to him, his lips moving against yours beautifully. His body began to relax, the tension in his shoulders disappeared as he leant himself forward, easing you back flat on your feet. Had you have not known any better, you would have never guessed that Mycroft had never kissed somebody before; he was just a bloody quick learner. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip softly, grinning as he let out a quiet moan. The need for air soon took over and you allowed yourself to separate, not moving any further than leaving your foreheads touching. "There. Now when we hear it, that's what you need to think of instead. Christ knows I will be." You laughed, your hands guiding themselves from his neck slowly down his chest and pushing him back slightly. "I'm going to go shower, so meet me upstairs? I know I promised more Hardy but I would really like to go to sleep if it's all the same to you." Mycroft only nodded, feeling you peck his lips once more before disappearing out of the room. The song had finished by now, having been replaced by who Mycroft believed were The Rolling Stones, but he wasn't really listening.

He stood still in his spot, mind replaying over the moment as he smiled fondly to himself. He could hear the shower running upstairs along with your voice, muffled but clear enough to understand that you were still singing along to the last song. Placing his fingers against his lips, Mycroft tried to imitate the pressure you had placed on them moments ago, thinking about how your lips felt against his, properly this time, not just the two second thing on the sofa this morning. His chest felt warm, stomach flipping and in a rare moment Mycroft felt genuinely happy. In all his life up to this moment, caring had never been an advantage, had always led to him getting hurt. But maybe, just maybe, you were right about how you were going to prove him wrong one day. And he hoped to whatever sentient being that may or not be watching over him that you were going to prove him wrong about that.

[fangirlovestuff]

All’s Well that Ends Well - Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

a/n - hello lovely people!! i wasn’t gonna write another part for this because i didn’t really want to venture into the future with this series since i like the ending i have in water under the bridge, BUT i got this lovely ask and it was an amazing idea and i’m so happy / shocked that people still remember this so here’s another part! i hope you enjoy<3

Summary: a collection of moments in your journey, from Wanda’s eyes. (not moments that appeared in the previous parts!)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: i’m pretty sure none. maybe the faintest alluding to smut you have ever seen but i don’t even know if that counts. also a smidge of angst but not really

read the previous parts: Silver Lining || Water Under The Bridge

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

Wanda was walking through the long corridors of the compound, a frown on her face, a product of the mission she just came back from. They made it work, but things definitely weren't ideal for a while there. She expected Cap would go over that in the debriefing, the one she was currently making her way to.

Ugh. She liked Steve, appreciated his professional opinion, considered him a friend, most times. But damn it, can't the debriefing wait until she had something to eat, had a shower, slept?

Apparently not, she scowled as she quickened her steps. The last thing she wanted was to be late for this and get lectured by Steve. More than she's already going to be considering how the mission went.

She felt like banging her head against a wall.

Suddenly, she heard a sweet laugh. "No! The Black Widow herself is addicted to Pop Tarts? Well, that certainly makes me feel better about myself," the voice giggled.

Curious, since she didn't recognize who it was, she couldn't resist sticking her head into the room from which she heard the sounds.

"I'm glad, but it's a secret, so shhhh," Natasha smiled that half-smile half-smirk of hers, the fondness evident in her voice as she put her finger to her plush lips to imply silence. Next to her stood the most beautiful woman Wanda has ever laid eyes on. You were standing next to the black widow, who was considered a symbol for beauty and grace, yet Wanda found herself unable to take her eyes of off you.

"Oh, hi!" you smiled once you saw someone had entered the room.

"Hey," Wanda smiled timidly as she opened the door a bit wider.

"Wanda," Natasha smiled at her. To the untrained eye, she seemed completely normal, just as she did a moment ago, but Wanda thought she could see the faintest hint of surprised irritation in her eyes. Natasha introduced the two of you, and Wanda's grin went involuntarily wider when you shook her hand warmly.

"Lovely to meet you," you grinned.

"Likewise. Natasha, I thought you'd like to know we all came back from the mission, Carol included," she raised her eyebrow slightly.

"Carol?" you asked. "Oh! Captain Marvel? Oh my god, Captain Marvel's here?" your eyes went almost comically wide as you connected the dots.

"Yeah," Wanda chuckled. "She is. But she's gonna be a bit occupied for the next hour or so, since Steve insisted we do a debriefing now, which is just where I should be going if I don't wanna be late. I'll see you around," she said in what she hoped was a friendly tone and not too high pitched.

As she walked to the meeting room, even faster than she was walking before, her mind wandered to you. You looked so… energized. God, she wished that was her. She sighed and accepted her fate, entering the room.  

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

"Hey, Wanda!" Wanda heard you calling after her a few days after you got to the compound. She was just on her way to the training room, but he figured talking to you for a few minutes wouldn't hurt. If she could keep her mouth shut about her little crush, that is.

"What's up?" she turned around, waiting for you to catch up to her.

"Well, I just saw you and I figured I'd say hi," you smiled, "trying to get to know everyone and such. How are you?"

"I'm great! How are you? I mean, how's settling in and all? I know from experience that can be a little daunting," Wanda smiled sympathetically.

"I guess," you giggled, and Wanda really hoped she was only giving you internal heart eyes and not external ones. "but so far so good. I mean, everyone's just so nice. Just the other day Carol offered to help me train. Oh my god, I still can't believe I'm on first name basis with Captain Marvel!" you laughed.

Wanda hoped her disappointment didn't show on her face. "That's great!"

"Yeah, it's really awesome. Anyways, I'm sure you have better things to do, so um, I'll leave you to it," you said, that gorgeous smile never leaving your face.

Which was unfair really, since it definitely made Wanda's brain cells leave her head. Maybe that's why the next thing she said was, "Oh well, not really, I was going to go train for a while, but if you want maybe you could come with me. I'm no Carol but I'm not that bad either," she chuckled.

"Really?" your eyes lit up.

Needless to say, Wanda didn't get a lot of training time done that day. She spent most of it staring at you, so she could "um… correct your, uh, technique," as she so elegantly put it when you asked her if she didn't want to train as well.

It wasn't her fault you looked so pretty.

Per your request, she did show you a couple of things using her powers when you were finished. Your squeal of delight when she lifted up a super heavy weight bench made her cheeks blush slightly.

"That's so cool! So, can you like, read my thoughts or something?" you asked.

"I can," she smirked when you gaped at her. "but don't worry, I don't. I made a habit not to look into other people's minds when I don't absolutely have to."

"That's good to know," you grinned at her, your eyes shining with mirth.

She tried to remind herself she didn't stand a chance, she didn't even know if you liked girls, and even if you did she was no Carol or Natasha, but to no avail. No matter how much she repeated it, even after the three of you got together, she couldn't stop herself from falling a little more in love every time she saw you.

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

Bucky and Wanda were an unlikely duo. Pretty much everyone agreed on that. Except for Steve.

"I think you two have more in common than you'd like to admit," he had smiled. When they asked him what he meant, he simply mimed locking his mouth up and throwing the key. "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."

They both knew what he meant, of course. The abnormal strength, fighting for the wrong side. They both made their mistakes, grew to be better. They never talked about it, not really. But when a sound made Bucky's jaw clench a certain way, or a mission was especially draining, or Wanda saw something that brought more memories of home than she'd like, they were there for each other. Actions, not words, but they understood.

Right now, Bucky greeted Wanda as she entered the kitchen on a chilly morning.

"So, you hear about the new trouple?" Bucky asked her, handing her a mug of tea he made because he knew she needed it in the mornings.

"Trouple?" Wanda frowned, before sipping her tea and humming gratefully at him.

"Well, like a couple but… three," Bucky chuckled awkwardly. "Tony said that."

"Oh, um… no, I guess I didn't," she shrugged.

He explained that you were dating Nat and Carol. "It took me a minute to register it too, so I get it," he smiled at her expression.

"No, I mean, I totally get it. That was fast," she raised her eyebrows. When he didn't reply, she continued, "I hope they'll end up well. For the team, you know," she shrugged, gulping before taking another sip of her tea.

"Hey," Bucky laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know you liked her."

"Which her?" she quipped back. He just gave her a look and she sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah. But I mean, she's with two of the most powerful women in the world. The universe, probably. I can't exactly compete with that," she shrugged helplessly.

"Wanda, you're amazing. I hope you know that," Bucky said, his eyes sincere.

"I guess," she smiled at him.

"Wanna go eat ice cream and watch a sappy movie?"

"You know me so well," she giggled and magicked the fridge open, sending two tubs flying into her hands, as well as two spoons from the drawer.

"Showoff," he scoffed, taking one from her outreached hand.

"You love it," she winked, drawing a chuckle from him.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go watch that movie of yours, young lady."

She laughed and followed him out of the kitchen.

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

After the breakup, Wanda was getting closer and closer to you. She didn't want to be a rebound, but also… she just couldn't resist. But, her intentions were purely platonic. For now, at least.

At first, you didn't want to talk to her about it. She understood, didn't push. She knew you needed time.

And indeed, after a couple of days, she heard a knock on her door. She used her magic to open it since she was on her bed, going over some files, which she immediately discarded once she saw you, the state you were in. You have clearly been crying, the tear tracks evident on your face, your quiet sniffle reaching her ears.

"What's wrong?" she asked, gesturing for you to come sit down with her.

You sat down and took a deep breath. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling your head to rest on her shoulder. That's what made you break down again. In the comfort of her arms, you felt safe enough to cry, to fall apart.

She started to pull away when she felt your shivers, but stopped when you clung to her tighter, letting your tears flow freely. She just stroked your hair gently, letting you cry as much as you needed, mumbling reassurances.

When you calmed down enough, you raised your head. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, averting your bloodshot eyes from hers.

"No, don't apologize. I'm here," she nudged your shoulder, prompting you to meet her gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I just… I guess it took a couple of days until it felt real. Until I realized…" you cleared your throat. "I- Wanda, I've been dating them for the absolute most of the time I've been an Avenger. What if… what if I don't have a place in the team without them? What if I'm not strong enough without them?"

"Don't think that, not even for a second," she squeezed your shoulder. "You are one of the most powerful people I know. You belong here, in this team. I've seen you fight, and you're incredible. You're strong, you're smart. All of that has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with them. I know losing them may hurt, but that hurt doesn't change who you are."

"Thank you," you said. It wasn't enough, so you wrapped your arms around her, squeezing her tight, hoping she'd understand.

"It's the truth," she said, stern but not harsh.

That night, after you left, with plans to hang out tomorrow, she took a couple of deep breaths, calmed herself down. If she didn't, she was sure she'd go out there and kick the asses of two of her extremely stupid teammates.

Okay, they weren't actually stupid. But at that moment, Wanda was ready to hurt them, only for making you feel like this. Like you needed them. Seeing you like this made her want to blast them both into oblivion.

But you'd be fine, and you certainly didn't need her to interfere in your business. Besides, she got caught up thinking about the smile you gave her before you left.

She'd move planets to see that smile as often as possible.

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

Wanda smiled when she saw you approaching, your swimsuit wet since you had already jumped in the water. Because of course, Tony had a pool in the compound, and of course, he insisted everyone would come together at least one day a year and "bond". Honestly, the man was a bit of a sap. Not that Wanda minded, if it gave her opportunities for sights like these, she mused as she looked at you above her sunglasses.

"Having fun?" she asked once you were close enough to hear her.

You smiled. "Yeah. But you know what would be even more fun? If my lovely girlfriend will join me in a game of chicken against two annoying super soldiers? Maybe, you know, work your magic?" you batted your eyelashes at her innocently.

"Are you asking me to help you cheat so you can make Steve drop Bucky from his shoulders and you would win?" she chuckled.

"No! I mean, maybe. Ugh, his shoulders are so big Wanda, it's unfair! Bucky has so much more space than I do! Clint can't hold me properly," you grumbled half heartedly at your teammate. "But if I hold you up on my shoulders, and you'd, you know," you gestured in a way that was supposed to be similar to how she uses her magic, but only made her giggle at your antics, "I really think we can win."

"Alright, I'm convinced," Wanda announced, pulling off her sundress and revealing her swimsuit so she can get in the pool. "But only because I'd love to see Bucky's face when he falls into the pool and ruins his hair. Steve wouldn't hear the end of it either," she giggled. "Come on, let's go," she said as she started walking towards the pool.

"Babe?" she turned back to find you staring at her.

"Yeah?" you said, shaking your head a little.

"Are you coming?" she smirked.

"Oh, I dunno, I think I was in the sun for a long time, it's getting kinda hot. Maybe we should go inside, cool down a little, and I could kiss you, and-"

You got cut off by Wanda pressing her lips to yours gently. "Now come on," she smirked when you parted, "we have a pair of super soldier asses to kick."

And you did indeed kick their asses. Even without using her magic, Wanda managed to knock Bucky off with you balancing on one leg and using the other one to kick Steve under the water, making him lose enough of his balance.

You both laughed when Bucky and Steve went out of the water, Bucky complaining about his ruined hair and, "God Steve, I pulled you out of the river and you drop me in the pool?"

"I'm pretty sure you were the reason I ended up in that river in the first place," Steve snarked back. When Bucky opened his mouth to protest, Steve continued, "And I’d fall into that river for you again if I had to. Besides, your hair looks just fine," he smiled sweetly at Bucky, who stopped glaring daggers at him and was instead giving him the usual heart eyes.

"Punk," Bucky muttered as Steve went out of the pool. He extended his hand to help Bucky out, who instead pulled on his arm and made him fall into the water at him.

"Jerk," Steve shook the water from his hair before picking Bucky up and getting them both out of the pool as Bucky laughed.

You and Wanda looked at them with a smile.

"I'm glad they're happy," she said, moving her hands in the water in slow motions.

"They deserve it. You do too," you told her sincerely.

"I am happy," she smiled. "You make me happy," she cupped your cheek in her hand, and you kissed her sweetly.

"You make me happy too," you said, "the happiest."

Later, when you were all gathered around an outdoor table, it somehow ended up with you and Wanda sitting across from Natasha and Carol. Now at first, Wanda half considered being rude and asking to switch with someone.

But then she realized, maybe this isn't so bad.

"Hey baby, can you pass me that salad?" she asked you, sneaking a side look at Nat and Carol. They were talking between them, but the way they tensed up let her know they were paying attention. Good.

"Sure thing," you reached or the salad she gestured at, passing it.

"Thank you," she grinned, planting a firm but sweet kiss on your lips.

You hummed in delight. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"For passing me the salad," she shrugged with a smile.

You let it go, not thinking anything of it, but Wanda snuck another look across the table, and sure enough, Carol's jaw was tightly clenched, while Natasha was looking down at her plate, moving her food around as if she lost her appetite.

It wasn't as good as kicking their asses, but it would do. She barely managed to contain the smug grin that threatened to spread across her face. Having you to herself was more than enough, it was everything she could've ever wanted.

But, having your ex-girlfriends realize what they lost? Well, it certainly didn't hurt.

She didn't do it a lot, didn’t brag or show you off around them most times. But every now and then, she couldn't help herself, because you deserved it. She knew you'd probably never really confront them about how they made you feel, so when she could, she subtly did it for you.

You didn’t deserve what they put you through. No, you deserved the world, you deserved to smile and laugh and be happy and loved. Wanda hoped she could be that, give you that, for the rest of your lives.

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

tell me your thoughts!! i couldn’t help but make stevebucky date because i love them hehe. the little look into Wanda’s friendship with Bucky was really fun too, i felt like i sorta alluded to it in the previous ones but yeah, anyways i love them and i hope you liked it<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[gryffindors-weasley]

A Moment With You

James Potter x Reader

Summary: When you wander from the Spring Ball, you find yourself sharing a moment with James.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, kissing

The Great Hall was filled from corner to corner with the utmost of jovial and boisterous energy, alive with the excitement that comes with events such as this one. It was the first ever spring ball to be held at Hogwarts—the only other ball that had been save for the occasional Yule Ball. It was deemed to be a good addition to create for the students, a perfect way to end the school year as spring began to turn to summer slowly but surely.

It was beautiful, really, and you were in agreement that it’d been a rather nice way to finish your seventh year in a place that’d become your childhood. Hundreds upon hundreds of blossoming flowers had flourished brightly across the spacious room in just about every color you could imagine, perfuming the air with the sweetest of scents. There were a myriad of brightly colored dresses and said flowers tucked in one another’s hair by their dates, the dance floor having never been empty of students. Soft pink sparkles of light had even rained down from the enchanted ceiling in a wash of color, the small flecks dropping low enough to dust overtop people’s heads and shoulders.

It was all spectacularly and marvelous, something you wouldn’t have wanted to miss seeing if even for just a moment. And it was a sight to see your friends have so much fun, whether they took to dancing or when Sirius found himself tossing pieces of food at Remus across the small table. You’d had fun, you’d enjoyed yourself, but you found yourself wanting to break away from everything in favor of having a moment alone. So, you did just that.

You had since excused yourself and made your way through clusters of students to get to the large double doors, slipping away into the grand corridors. It felt as though you’d taken a breath of fresh air in that very moment, and the farther you’d walked from it the more distant and muffled the commotion began to be. It felt more comfortable to be in your own company.

The sun was just setting, it’s broken beams casting bright and orange through the latticed and arched windows, splaying warmly across the floor and illuminating every fleck of dust it could find. No matter how wondrous and enchanting that ceiling in the Great Hall always was, it always paled in comparison to the very sky at sunset. To the very colors it’s painted with, different each and every time it did so.

You hadn’t known how long you’d been gone, surely it must have been at least half an hour since you’d left the crowd in favor of being there, but you couldn’t be entirely sure. What you had known, however, was that you hadn’t been left by yourself for too long.

“So, this is where you’ve run off to?” James.

You turn around at the ever familiar voice, one belonging to a certain dark-haired boy that made your heart flutter more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth then as he shrugs, his hands in his pockets as he walks closer to you. “Instinct?”

You laugh softly and shake your head, turning away before he could see the pink staining your cheeks under the light of the sun. It was true, though. It was always obvious to him when you’d been elsewhere, always noticeable when you’re not around. Well, it’s incredibly noticeable to him, at least. There’s never the same light when you’re not there, not the same radiance that always followed you around no matter what. It wasn’t that hard for him to figure out that it’s you he found himself searching for just about anywhere he’d been.

He’d found himself coming to the realization that he always seems to gravitate to where you are and where you will be. He’d follow you anywhere given the chance if it meant he could be with you, could be around you. It was a fact he hadn’t known what to do with at first, hadn’t entirely known what it meant to feel just so about someone. But after a few weeks had gone by, a few months, a year or two—he knew his fond feelings for you were more than just the silly crush he’d once believed it to be.

“And just why is it that you’ve followed me out here, James? You seemed to have been having the time of your life in there,” you say with a smile of your own, nodding in the direction of the Great Hall.

He finds himself scratching the back of his neck as his head lowers to look at his feet for a moment, his gaze soon flickering up to yours as the corner of his mouth quirks up in a grin. His hand falls back to his side then, his smile widening before he speaks up.

“Because I never got to ask you to dance,” he says, eyes sparkling and expression fond.

The tips of his fingers brushed over yours and the teasing grin on your face was one you found you couldn’t help even if you tried to, and he knew what was coming. He always did.

“Have you been dying to ask me this whole time?” There it was.

He rolled his eyes, enveloping your hand fully then and tugging you into his arms as your laughter rings out into the empty corridor, his soon to mingle with your own as the softest of blushes burns his cheeks. You were right, you were always right. But he fought against allowing you to know just that for the sake of his own embarrassment, instead lifting you off your feet and twirling you just to hear your laughter once more.

Your giddiness had yet to dissipate when he set you back down, his arm circling around your waist and his hand finding yours as his lingering giggles puff against your skin. He’d always had a way of making you feel happier than you’d ever felt, as if nothing else mattered, at least not even nearly as much as it did when you were with him. His mere presence was enough to put a smile on his face, whether it be his clumsy antics or the way he lit up any room he was in. James Potter was the one you always found yourself thinking of, even in that obscenely large room full of people.

He’d been the head turner of any event whenever he was in attendance—boisterous and free spirited, his mere habit of being the clumsiest person you’d ever known never failing to make you smile. You knew that to be true as you looked up at him, a curl of his hair dipping over his forehead. The setting sun danced over his skin, illuminating the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. He couldn’t quite keep his rhythm in the dance he so longed to have with you if you kept looking at him like that.

“You missed it. Sirius had spilled his drink all over Lupin’s suit in an attempt to levitate it to him,” he starts, laughing as he recalls it. “He just might still be chasing Pad’s around as we speak.”

You chuckle at the thought, turning your head away to stave off the heat in your cheeks from the gaze of his that fell upon you. Those two had always been up to something, and you wouldn’t doubt it if they’d gotten themselves into trouble by that point. If James hadn’t been with you right now, you were quite sure he would be too.

“I’m betting Lily’s gone mad by now,” you say.

“Surely she must be,” he grins.

It was then as you shake your head and smile at his words that he finds himself resisting the urge to reach up and tuck your hair behind your ear. He felt as though the view just outside the grand window you danced in front of was no match for you. He doesn’t think anything could rival you for that matter. Not with the way the sun makes your hair glimmer and the way it makes it appear as though you’re simply glowing. Though he’s starting to believe that’s just how you are.

“You look beautiful,” he says before he can find it in him to stop himself, the words falling from his lips without pause.

Your gaze returns to him and his heart nearly skips a beat, your smile soft as your cheeks burn a soft scarlet. The butterflies in your stomach were rapidly becoming hard to ignore at that point, his expression mirroring yours as you brush the stray curl out away from his forehead.

“And you look quite dashing yourself.”

He chuckles, looking downwards as he squeezes your hand in his own softly. He too found himself hiding the crimson daring to tinge his cheeks, for you were just about the only person who could bring out such a thing. You were bouncing from thought to thought as you danced in his arms, trying not to make a fool of yourself in front of your best friend. The silence between you hadn’t made matters any better either, leaving you to focus on your proximity and the way he held your hand so tenderly.

It was becoming increasingly hard to think about anything other than him as of late. Each and every time you’d tried not to, it had only made things terribly worse, you’d only thought of him more than you had before. But you suppose that’s what happens when you fall for your best friend.

“You don’t have to stay with me, you know. You are the life of the party after all,” you say after a little while a stewing in your own silence, a teasing smile gracing your lips.

He grins then, wider than he has been the entirety of the time he’s been with you as he lifts your hand and twirls you once, quick to pull you close to him again.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Y/n/n?” He quips, his brow raised playfully as he awaits your answer.

Another laugh leaves your lips then as you release his hand, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose. You look at him then, smile soft as your gaze meets his, and you bite the inside of your cheek in a pitiful attempt to conceal your emotions. Your heart had been fluttering, racing wildly in your chest at the closeness the two of you shared. You were mere inches apart as you swayed to music unheard, nose nearly brushing against yours.

“No, absolutely not,” you say then, your tone ever so indicative of your jesting.

His laughter fans across your lips at that, though it’s quick to die down just as quickly as it’d started once you meet gazes. In a matter of moments your foreheads rest on one another, your dancing having since become distracted in favor of focusing on just how close you’d been to each other. Just how you looked at each other. It hadn’t helped with the way the very tips of your fingers had brushed over his cheek before you’d wrapped your arms around his neck.

He already knew that this moment was far better than any second he’d spent within the Great Hall. He felt as though he might burst if his feelings boil over any more than they had been, and little did he know you felt the same.

It was then that you leaned on your very tip-toes and he dipped his head down, his lips brushing over yours in the softest of kisses. A kiss that’d let loose another round of butterflies to wreak havoc within you. There was a fleeting moment between that and the next, one taken just to smile at each other, noses scrunched and cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” he murmurs softly, eyes fluttered closed as he nods against you. “I’m in love with you.”

You pull back to look at him, your expression beaming and bright as he looks down at you.

“You’re in love with me?” You hadn’t meant to sound quite so surprised at his words, the flicker of nervousness having flashed across his face being something that made you stifle your own laughter. But he quickly hid it as he nodded once more, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Once you could find it in you to gather your words, to break from your daze, you murmur, “I love you.”

You were near breathless when the words fell past your lips, his smile bright as he kissed you once more. It was a mere few seconds before he parted from you, having found himself peppering his affections across your cheek as he spun you in his arms, your laughter sounding at the suddenness. His embrace was tight as he kissed you again, the giddy action having you stumble back a step or two in his arms as your giggling had yet to stop. His hand settled on your cheek, gentle and warm as he kissed your nose, his breath splaying over your lips.

It was then, in the empty corridor within the remaining glow of the sun, that a moment with you is far better than a million with just anyone else.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @ch0colatefr0gs @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (14)

(I’m finally baaaaaaaaaaack!!! So sorry this took so long guys, my life’s been CRAZY lately! Hope you all enjoy the update anyway thought! As usual, there’s this series and then a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries. Go check that out too if you prefer!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 13 / Ch. 15 (ao3)

Chapter 14: Geronimo!

Felix dangled his leg over the pool’s edge, feeling the warm water brush against his skin as he slowly swung it back and forth. His reflection stared back at him, distorted by the ripples that formed from his movement. He didn’t swim in pools often, but when he did, it tended to be soothing for him. The waves rolling back and forth across his body helped remind him to breathe and gave him a sense of presence for where he was in that moment. He could allow himself to get lost in his thoughts while staying present on earth at the same time. It was nice. 

However, while he did enjoy looking at the water, he didn’t quite fancy it being thrown onto him. 

“Watch it!” Felix scowled at Allan and Claude as he scooted back on the pavement. If they continued to splash water like that, not only would Felix get soaked, but the cement around them would as well. Someone could get seriously injured by slipping if they weren’t careful or weren’t paying attention, specifically a certain ravenette that was going to be joining them in a few minutes.

“Aw, come on, Fe.” Claude laughed, swimming towards the blond. Felix moved back a bit more to be safe. “You have a swimsuit on for a reason. Join us! The water feels great!”

“I’ll get in when I’m good and ready.” Felix replied with narrowed eyes.

Claude tisked and swam back towards the deep part of the pool. “Figures. You’re probably waiting on Marinette to get here.”

Felix rolled his eyes. Why would he wait for anyone to go swimming? The girls were taking a tad longer than them, but this wasn’t a formal event. There was no need to-

“Speaking of Marinette,” The brunette continued, “what do you think of Luka? It sounded like they were pretty close.”

Felix held back a sigh, slowly growing more annoyed towards Claude’s strange, incessant questions and comments. For example, why would he think about Luka in any way? None of them had met the guitarist, and the only thing they knew about him was the flippant mention that Marinette had made earlier. A quick mention of dear friend, which was something that they’ve all done before. He’d noted the name, of course, but that was only because he’d fallen into the habit of noting a lot of things when it came to Marinette. Other than that, it was hardly an extraordinary occurrence, yet Claude was acting as though Luka had just joined their group alongside Marinette.

“I don’t have any thoughts on him.” He said. “You can’t have an opinion on someone you haven’t met.”

Claude scoffed. “Oh, please. You have an opinion on everything, Felix.”

“Everything I’ve read about and experience personally.” Felix replied curtly. Why would it even matter if he did have an opinion on Luka?

“Fine, I’ll change the question. What are your thoughts on Marinette’s thoughts about Luka?”

Felix raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are your thoughts? She was blushing a lot earlier. Do you think she has a crush on him?”

Felix paused. When he first saw her blushing and stuttering in the music room, his mind did turn to that possibility, but blushing and stuttering were two traits that she exhibited quite often. Unless she has a crush on their entire group, along with this Luka person, her becoming flustered towards their teasing shouldn’t mean anything. That did bear a new kind of question, though: What type of person would Marinette like? He’s already established that she had a personal connection to Adrien Agreste- or at least he’s quite sure of it -so that was one basis they could use for reference. What traits did Adrien possess that could be considered attractive to Marinette?

His first guess would be money, fame, and power, except Marinette wouldn’t be that shallow. Plus, she initiated the break up. Most people who were after a certain status wouldn’t break off their chances of getting it. That meant there had to be something else that Adrien possessed that “wooed” her. It could be looks, with Adrien being a model again, or his personality. Considering who they were talking about, Felix guessed the latter, or at least a mix of the two. Maybe she had a thing for blonds and Adrien tended to give her a world of attention. Or perhaps she enjoyed a pair of emerald green eyes and someone that would bring a positive energy to the room, the same energy she often brought herself. Granted, Adrien’s positive energy was mostly fake, but that could be the reason why they broke up in the first place. (If they were together, that is.) Felix had learned over the last few weeks that Marinette deeply appreciates honesty from others as well, which would make sense when one thinks about her struggles with anxiety.

She most likely didn’t have a boyfriend currently, since it hasn’t been mentioned in the month that they’ve known her, but if she did, Felix would probably guess that that person had to be thoughtful, honest, and loving, someone who could calm her worries and give her the stability in life she needed. It was the least she deserved.

As for Luka, though..

“I think you should ask her yourself if you’re so interested.” Felix finally answered.

Claude pulled a pout and sighed. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh, leave him alone.” Allan said, jokingly splashing Claude. “Can’t you let him be a buzzkill in peace?”

Claude laughed and pounced on Allan, splashing more water everywhere. Felix tisked, but before he could chastise them for spreading more water onto the concrete, another voice interrupted them.

“We’re here~!”

The boys stopped fighting, and Felix glanced over his shoulder towards Allegra, who had just entered the pool room. She was wearing her casual, purple bikini and had her hair tied up in a bun, her usual look when swimming. Behind her, Marinette was shuffling in as well, and no sooner did his eyes land on the ravenette than he felt himself freeze to his spot on the cement. 

Her hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, and a frilly, pink bikini adorned her figure. Of course, neither of those things would have groundbreaking.. had she not also been completely ripped.

“Dang!” Claude remarked, taking the words out of their collective mouths. Her entire body appeared to be packed with muscle. It was like she’d decided to get up and complete a series of extreme exercises three times in a row daily! Felix already knew that Marinette was strong, but he didn’t expect her to look like she was chiseled out of rock itself. 

“Marinette, why didn’t you tell us that you were jacked?”

“Is that a six pack?” Allan asked, his jaw falling slack.

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks, and a bashful expression painted her features as she crossed her arms over her chest. “O-Oh, um-”

“It sure is!” Allegra grinned, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Apparently, Marinette has the same addiction to exercise that you guys do.”

Allan gained enough sense to let out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call it an addiction-”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Claude interrupted, betrayal clear in his tone.

Marinette faltered. “I- uh -didn’t think you would be.. interested?”

“Are you kidding?” Claude lifted himself out of the pool to show his own set of abs. “I love exercising! We could have been working out together this whole time!”

“Where do you exercise?” Allan inquired. “I wanna know what you use to get your muscles so defined.”

“Oh! Uh- well -You know..” Marinette looked ready to squirm now. “Just.. random workouts at the house.. I guess.”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t know much about workouts, but from what he overhead from Allan and Claude, they could be time consuming. How did she manage to fit that into her schedule? She seemed busy enough with homework, designs, and helping her parents at the bakery. He supposed she could always rearrange her schedule to make time, but where was the equipment? Surely one couldn’t get muscles like that without using professional equipment, and yet he didn’t see anything remotely close to a weight last time they went to her house. 

“Felix?”

Felix’s gaze flicked to Claude, and he almost groaned when he saw the brunette grinning like a fool again. What ludicrous thing was he going to say now?

“Care to share your thoughts with the class?” He joked. “You were staring at Marinette pretty hard.”

Felix’s eyes widened, then snapped to Marinette. Her blush was a touch darker now, and Allegra was snickering next to her. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was looking when he zoned out. How long was he staring? Where was he staring?

“I-” He stopped, unsure of what to say. Were his cheeks supposed to feel this warm? “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t-.. I just got lost in thought. I didn’t mean to.. stare.”

Claude snorted behind him. “‘Lost in thought’. Yeah, right.”

Felix whipped around and splashed Claude in the face. Now was not the time for his quips.

“I-It’s fine!” Marinette assured before the boys could fight further. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything. Well, I mean- I just wanted sure that you were- you know -okay..”

Felix glanced back up at her, but for some reason, holding eye contact felt worse. So he shifted on the concrete, resting his elbow against his knee and his mouth in his palm. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

“Good.” 

Felix barely had time to register Allegra’s comment or her steps as she ran towards him before he was abruptly shoved into the pool. A gasp escaped him as he flailed his arms around to gain stability, and he looked up to glare at Allegra. She was already jumping into the pool after him, though, yelling “Cannonball!”

She resurfaced a second later and threw him a subtle wink as she muttered, “I guess Marinette’s not the only one who needs to cool down, huh?” 

Felix didn’t have a chance to snap back- he wasn’t staring at her that way. It was an honest mistake! -because Marinette plunged into the pool a second later. 

A giggle fell from the ravenette’s lips when she resurfaced. “This water is so warm!”

“That’s because it’s a heated pool.” Claude informed as he swam over to her.

Marinette mouthed a “wow” before saying aloud, “I’ve never been in a heated pool before.”

“Well, now that you have, what do you think?”

“Hm.. I’d say it’s probably better for winter than it would be for summer.”

Allan chuckled. “I can confirm that it is definitely better in the winter.”

“Especially since there aren’t any other pools to swim in during that time.” Allegra smirked. She then splashed them all by making a wide wave with her arm.

“Race you guys to the water slide!”

Everyone began clambering to get to the other side of the pool, while Felix stood there squinting his eyes to avoid getting water in them. Why did he decide to be with such rowdy people?

“You good?” Allan, who had strangely stayed behind, inquired.

Felix nodded. “Allegra didn’t push me hard, so I didn’t scrape the floor.”

A hint of a smile passed Allan’s lips. “I was talking about your little fever earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush that hard.”

Felix grit his teeth, feeling the heat rush back to his cheeks, and began swimming away to hide it. “It’s only because you all made it such a big deal.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Allan laughed, swimming after him. “Were we supposed to ignore the fact that you were just staring at Marinette’s abs without saying anything?”

Despite the annoying remark, Felix couldn’t help feeling a tad relieved. At least it was only the abs.

“No, but you didn’t have to make it weird.”

“You’re the only one who made it weird, dude.”

Felix scoffed. “Then, just forget the whole thing! It was an accident, and I got lost in thought, alright? For my sake and Marinette’s, just let it go.”

“Okay, okay.” Allan smiled, briefly pausing in his swim to hold up his hands. “This is me letting it go.. But I can’t promise anything for Claude or Allegra.”

Felix bit back a groan. Great. He could trust Allan to let this pass, and maybe Allegra, but if it was up to Claude?

He was never going to live this down.

~~~~~~

Marinette sat on Allegra’s bed with a smile as she ran her hands over the furry, soft comforter. Allegra sat behind her, carefully pulling on Marinette’s hair to tie it into a braid. Once everyone had had their fill of swimming, they’d decided to take showers and change into pajamas for the evening. The boys went off to their bedroom, while the girls retreated to theirs, and when Marinette finished her shower around fifteen minutes later, Allegra eagerly insisted that they exchange hair styles.

“I’ll wear your pigtails, and you can wear a braid!” She’d said. “It’ll be fun!”

The request was a strange one, but Marinette figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to accept it. So she’d grabbed her ribbons for Allegra and got settled on the bed. Now, they were here, simply doing each other’s hair and waiting for the boys to come back. The silence in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t born from awkwardness, at least. Allegra was merely focused on the task at hand, and Marinette didn’t mind enjoying the quiet while it lasted. Spending time with the group on a constant basis, while fun, could be overbearing sometimes. They were always moving, always talking and laughing together, especially Claude. So the softer moments like this were a nice reprieve.

Actually, Claude’s absence was probably the reason for this new found silence. If she listened hard enough, she’d bet that she could hear him chattering all the way across the mansion. Perhaps she might even catch Felix telling him to pipe down too.

“So,” Allegra began, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “You’ve been attending Rosemary for a good month now. Do you think you’ve got a good handle on it yet?”

Marinette smiled, careful not to turn her head as she replied, “I like to think so. I know where all of my classes are, and I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized the teacher’s names.”

“Oh, good.” She could hear the satisfied smile in Allegra’s voice. “What about our group? Have you gotten sick of us yet?”

A laugh tumbled from Marinette’s lips. “No, of course not. I could never get sick of you guys.”

“Aw~.” The blonde cooed. “Even Felix? He’s a bit of a grump.”

Marinette snorted. “Oh, I don’t think he’s that bad. He just likes to have order in his life, ya know?”

“I do.” Allegra agreed. “But I also think he’s mellowed out a lot since you came around.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced to the left in an attempt to look at Allegra without moving. “You think so?”

Allegra hummed. “He’s not nearly as impertinent as he used to be. We had to drag him around everywhere we went with him pouting the entire way, but ever since you joined, he’s been coming to our hangouts without a single complaint. He’s been smiling more too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, we love Felix. He’s just a stay-at-home-and-isolate-yourself-from-all-human-existence type of person. That’s why it surprised us when he took such a shining to you.”

Heat rose to Marinette’s cheeks, and her fingers dug into the fur and feathers of Allegra’s blanket as she began fiddling with it a bit more. Had Felix really been smiling more and doing more things since she came around? Claude did mention Felix being ‘lenient’ with her a few times, but she’d thought he was just kidding. Or at least that Felix was more spiteful towards Claude since Claude was often pushy. Why would he take a shining to her specifically? Marinette didn’t remember doing anything special. Why not open up to the people who had been sticking by his side for two years?

“If he fought so hard against your get-togethers, why did you keep inviting him?” She found herself asking. She loved hanging out with Felix too, but if someone continued to reject her invitations and argue with her on every subject- as Allegra had implied -she probably would stop trying to hang out with that person after a while. 

“Well, it’s like you said,” Allegra shrugged. Or at least, Marinette was pretty sure she shrugged. The bed definitely shook slightly from whatever the blonde was doing. “Felix isn’t really that bad. He may act all tough and annoyed, but he still shows up to our hangouts on time and pays for the lunches when it’s his turn and helps us out when we ask him. We know he enjoys being around us, even if he won’t admit it. We just like giving him a hard time.”

Marinette let out a soft hum. That made sense. She could see the way he made time for the planned visits and study dates and how he’d subtly help out the others in any way he could. 

In other words, Felix didn’t truly need to be dragged around everywhere. He just had a habit of putting up a fuss.

“Plus,” Allegra continued, “we kind of deliberately push his buttons all the time. So I don’t really blame him for snapping at us. Maybe that’s why he warmed up to you faster than he did us.”

Marinette chuckled. Maybe it was. They did tend to tease him a lot. 

She wasn’t sure if Felix was actually more comfortable around her or not- though if anyone were to know it would probably be Allegra -but the fact that he might be brought her a certain sense of pride. Felix’s stone-cold demeanor was strong, and he rarely dropped it for anything. Her being able to help him relax would be a remarkable accomplishment, in her opinion.

“Alright, my turn!”

Marinette jumped at Allegra’s voice and reached up to touch the back of her hair. The braid was indeed finished, trailing all the way down to the top part of her back. It might look strange due to it being short, but she would only have it in for one night. Besides, if it makes Allegra happy, then who cares if she looks a tad silly?

Marinette moved back on the bed to allow Allegra to move up in front of her, and once the blonde got situated, Marinette began gathering up Allegra’s hair to pull it into two ponytails. It wasn’t until she started trying to brush through the hair, however, that she realized how hard the task may be.

“My goodness, Allegra!” Marinette blurted out. “How do you even have this much hair? You’re like a Disney princess!”

Allegra’s hair was not only long, flowing well past her lower back, but also thick. Marinette had a feeling that she could stick her whole hand inside and barely make it past the surface. How was Allegra’s neck not constantly aching from holding it all? Was this why she braided it so often? It had to be. If Allegra allowed her hair to flow freely as it was now, it would get caught on everything and anything in its way. 

Allegra laughed in front of her. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but if anyone were to be a Disney princess here, it would be Claude.”

The comment pulled a laugh from Marinette as well. “Why does that make sense?”

“I know right! He’s even practiced that crying flop thing that all of the princesses do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! I still have a picture of it. I’ve decided that he’d either be Aurora or Merida.”

Marinette snorted. “Why’s that?”

“Well-”

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted their conversation, and the girls paused to listen for whoever was on the other side.

“Hey. Can we come in?”

It was Claude, coincidentally the same person they had been talking about.

“Yeah, you’re good.” Marinette called back. “We’re just doing each other’s hair now.”

“And talking about how you’re a Disney Princess.” Allegra added with a grin.

Claude let out an incredulous laugh as he opened the door, revealing Allan and Felix to be behind him as well. “I’m a Disney princess?”

“Oh, yeah. Either Aurora or Merida. You pick.”

Claude scoffed jokingly. “Please. If I were a Disney princess, I would totally be Kuzco, because I’m fabulous and I may not be a princess, but I deserve a crown.”

Marinette burst into a fit of giggles, along with Allegra and Allan, but Felix rolled his eyes.

“Claude, you would be Kuzco because you’re both spoiled and overly dramatic about everything.”

Claude shot him a look. “You know we’re both spoiled right? But it’s fine. I don’t blame you for being jealous of me.”

Felix scoffed. “Jealous-”

“Anyway!” Claude cut him off, prancing over to Marinette. “Are you ready, Mari?”

Marinette's smile faltered. Ready? “Ready for what?”

“You and I are gonna arm wrestle.”

Her eyes bulged. “What?”

“If it’s alright with you.” Allan joined in. “We wanna see how strong you are.”

“Wait, so you all want to arm wrestle with me?”

“Not all of us.” Claude corrected. “Felix is too scared to challenge you.”

“I’m not scared.” Felix said, irritation lacing his tone. “I simply see no point in starting something I know I can’t win.”

“You won’t even try!”

“Why should I? I don’t work out on a regular basis like you do, and I’ve seen the things she can do. You two are going to get thrown across the room as it is. I don’t want to add myself to that list.”

Marinette pursed her lips, feeling another blush coming on. Did he honestly think that she was that strong? (Being Ladybug, she probably was, but-)

“Where are we going to do it?” She asked.

Claude perked up. “You mean you’ll really arm wrestle with us?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not. I just need to finish Allegra’s hair-”

“Oh, no.” Allegra interrupted with a grin. “I can finish the hair. You go arm wrestle.”

Marinette hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I wanna see the boys get creamed.”

“Allegra!” Claude shouted indignantly.

“You know you’re gonna~.” She sang in response.

The brunette huffed as he sat on the carpeted floor. “Does no one have faith in us?”

“Honestly?” Allan sat down next to him. “I don’t think I’ll win either. I just want to see how bad I’m gonna lose.”

“Wow.. at least you’re honest.”

Marinette giggled and moved to the floor where she assumed the arm wrestle would take place. Behind her, Felix claimed her abandoned spot on the bed next to Allegra, and she felt their gazes on her back as she laid down in front of Claude, who already had an arm up and an eager smirk on his lips. 

Tentatively, Marinette grabbed his hand. She hadn’t been worried about winning at first, but now that everyone had voiced their belief towards her certain victory, the pressure was starting to weigh on her mind. Losing was much less humiliating when no one believed you would win in the first place. 

“Alright, I’m sure everyone knows the rules.” Allan began, acting as referee. “Elbows have to be touching the ground no matter what, and you can only use one hand. The first hand to touch the ground loses. I’ll count down from three.”

Marinette nodded and situated herself a bit more on the ground. Claude did the same. 

“No hard feelings, right?” The brunette asked lightheartedly.

“3..”

Marinette smirked. 

“2..”

“None whatsoever.”

“1..”

“Especially since you’re going to be the one losing.”

An incredulous laugh burst from Claude’s lips. “Oh!”

“Go!”

They both pushed against each other at the same time, but Marinette managed to put in a burst of speed that slammed Claude’s hand right into the floor. The round was over in the blink of an eye.

“OOOOOOOOH!!!” 

Allegra and Allan both cheered, and Claude looked like he would have fallen backwards from shock had he not been lying down. But nothing made Marinette happier than the proud smirk she caught on Felix’s lips.

“I wanna go again!” Claude announced eagerly.

“No way! It’s my turn to try!” Allan replied, shoving the brunette aside.

Marinette laughed and got situated again, and although Claude was disappointed, he quickly assumed the role of referee for her and Allan. There was another countdown from three, and when the word “Go” was shouted, the two pushed as hard as they could. Allan held up a tad longer since he was more prepared and focused, but in the end, the results were the same. Marinette slammed his hand into the floor with no sense of mercy, just as she had done with Claude. 

“Dude!” Allan laughed, rubbing his wrist. “You’re good at this!”

“How often do you play?” Claude asked.

Marinette tilted her head back and forth. She may or may not play multiple nights a week with Chat Noir when patrols were slow, but that wasn’t something she could tell any of them. 

“Only every now and then.” She decided to reply.

“What! That’s crazy!” Claude exclaimed. “Let’s do it again. I wanna try one more time.”

Marinette gladly obliged, and soon, one more time turned into six more times. Then ten more. The boys just kept shoving each other aside, insisting on playing again, only for her to beat them within a few seconds or so. Each round got admittedly harder for Marinette, but after two years of constantly finding new ways to beat Chat noir, arm wrestling with civilians almost felt too easy.

“Agh!” Claude groaned after getting beat for the twelfth time in a row. “I was so close that time!”

“Yeah.. no.” Allegra said from the bed. “Not even.”

“Do you see now why I didn’t care to try?” Felix remarked.

“Hey, I’m still having fun losing.” Allan smiled. “Move over, Claude, it’s my turn again.”

“Oh, give her a break.” Allegra scolded. “You’re gonna tire her out until your win is guaranteed.”

Marinette silently agreed. She could definitely go longer, but her arm was starting to feel tired, and she didn’t want to end up over-exerting herself, especially when she already did that on a weekly basis as Ladybug.

“Aw, I guess you’re right.” Claude relented, scooting back on the carpet. Allan also backed off, to which Allegra gave a satisfied nod.

“Besides, we have to figure out what we’re doing for next week before we forget.”

Marinette twisted on the floor to give Allegra a questioning look. “What’s happening next week?”

“Valentine’s Day!” The blonde said, as though it were obvious.

“We host a party for the school every year to celebrate it.” Allan explained.

“And now we need to figure out where we’re going to host it for this year.” Allegra finished.

“Oh..” Marinette muttered, trying not to sound too despondent. Ever since Adrien, she’d sort of been actively avoiding things that symbolized love or relationships.. if only to keep the blond out of her mind. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is!” Claude grinned. “We get a bunch of decorations and snacks and drinks, and then we’ll put on music for people to dance to! Sometimes we even make up fun games to play.”

“And you do this every year?”

“For the past four years.” Allegra confirmed. “Speaking of which, do you want to help us decorate?”

Marinette knew she shouldn’t be surprised towards the request, since they’d invited her to everything else under the sun, but she still couldn’t help raising her eyebrows. “Really? You want me to help?”

“Of course!” Claude smiled. “We’d love to have your artistic touch.”

A soft chuckle passed her lips. The group’s attachment to her had been made clear from all of the get-togethers they invited her to join, but she’d fallen under the impression that they were all still newly made friends. Therefore, being invited to something that sounded extremely personal, such as decorating for a party that they alone hosted, made her realize how highly the group thought of her. Or perhaps they would invite anyone who returned their smiles.

Either way, She felt extremely honored. 

“That’s sweet, but I’m a fashion designer. Not a party designer. They’re a bit different.”

“Yeah, but you like doing crafts, right?” Allan pointed out. “We make a lot of our decorations by hand. It helps the parties seem more personal and gives us a good excuse to hang out over winter break.”

“Not that we really need one.” Allegra added.

Marinette mouthed a ‘wow’ before saying, “You guys really go all out.”

“Yeah, we do.” Claude smirked. “Otherwise, who’d wanna come?”

“That’s why we need to get a reservation somewhere by tomorrow. So we have time to prepare.”

“Did you guys have a place in mind?”

“I have a few, actually.” Allegra replied. “My main preference is the Mandarin Oriental, but there’s also a few other options like Ritz Paris, Bateaux Parisiens, or Les Pavillons de Bercy.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully, though she’d really only heard of one of those places. Was it bad that she didn’t know about the other three? 

“Have we done the Mandarin Oriental yet?” Allan asked.

“Not that I remember.”

“I don’t want to do Bateaux Parisiens.” Felix spoke up. “Being on a boat with that many people would be dreadful.”

“Aw, what?” Claude said. “Boats are awesome!”

“Not when they are packed to the brim with people. You’d barely be able to move an inch without running into somebody, and there would be no escape once you’re out on the water.”

“Well, fine, if you’re going to put it that way..”

“I say we do Mandarin Oriental.” Allan remarked. “I trust Allegra’s judgement on the setting.”

Allegra smiled at that, and the other two boys shrugged.

“I’m fine with it as long as I can get some air at some point.” Felix said.

“I guess I’m okay with it too.. But we should try to do a boat next year.”

Allegra shot Claude an indulgent smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Who’s going to call and reserve the tables?”

“I can have Dad do it.” Allegra answered. “We want him to reserve it for two days so we have time to put the decorations in, right?”

“Yeah, like usual.”

“Alright. We can check out the room we’re reserving tomorrow to see which types of decorations we need.”

“Great!” Claude chirped. “Does that work for you, Mari?”

Marinette smiled. She may not be fond of love or romance at the moment, but if throwing a Valentine’s Day party meant spending more time with these wonderful people, she would absolutely do it. 

“Perfectly.”

“Awesome.” Allegra said, satisfied. “Now that that’s settled, we can go back to messing around. What do you guys want to do?”

“Besides arm wrestling?” Claude joked as he eyed Marinette.

“Besides arm wrestling.”

“Why don’t we play hide and seek?” Allan suggested. “We haven’t played that with Marinette yet.”

Marinette gasped. Playing hide and seek in a mansion as big as this one? How had she not considered that before! 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea!”

“Absolutely!”

“..I suppose.”

“What do you say, Mari?” Allegra smiled. “Wanna play?”

Marinette didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Yes, please!”

Allan chuckled and leaned back on his palms. “Great. Who’s going to be it?”

The group paused for a split second. Then, all at once, a chorus of ‘not it!’s rang out in the room.

“Claude, you were the last one!”

“What? No way! It was totally you!”

Allegra shot up from the bed. “Nope! It was you! Start counting to 150!”

“But let us turn off the lights first.” Allan added as he got up.

“Oh, no. I’m counting now.” Claude replied with a sinister grin. “So you better hurry to turn the lights off as you go.”

Felix was up now too, and Marinette, in her giddiness, shot up from the floor with a squeal to follow him.

“Claude Herolds, you better wait for us to-”

“One!” The brunette yelled over Allegra.

“Claude-”

“Two!”

When it was clear he didn’t intend on stopping, everyone scrambled to get out of the bedroom door. They got stuck for only a moment, pushing against each other to be the first one out, then they struggled free and scattered.

Marinette stopped at the top of the steps, her eyes darting around the parts of the mansion she could see. There were so many rooms, so many open spaces, and she still hadn’t memorized where everything was, let alone where good hiding places could be. Where should she even start?

A hand gently grabbed her arm.

“This way.” Felix said in a hushed tone, lightly tugging her down the stairs. “Downstairs is more open for when you need to move to a new hiding place.”

“That’s allowed?”

He nodded. “It’s why we turn the lights off. I’ll show you a good room to start.”

“That’s why it surprised us when he took such a shining to you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Marinette’s lips. “Thanks.”

With the blond’s assured guidance, Marinette’s steps held a tad more confidence, and as Claude’s countdown lowered to 125, the two bolted for a room to hide.

tag list:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07

[fic-for-fic-sake]

A Happy Accident

A/N: The other day I found out that Chris Evans may possibly have a sex dungeon? I don’t write real people fics but I knew I HAD to write a Steve Rogers fic about this because I mean...c’mon. Also the text conversation in the fic is indeed a real conversation between my friend and I. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub, flogging, being tied up, penetrative sex, honorifics, praise kink

Word Count: 5.4k

You knew there was trouble before you even reached the meeting room, it was like a palpable tension you could sense coming from the conference room. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever was to come as you walked in and took your usual spot next to Natasha. 

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” You questioned her, murmuring under your breath since nobody seemed keen to speak above a whisper for the time being. 

“Some kind of security breach, we don’t know how bad yet, we have to wait for Stark.” She explained, speaking in clipped tones. She seemed nervous, which was understandable given the circumstances. A security breach could mean a number of things, none of them good. Anything from weapons tech to secret identities could’ve been revealed in the breach. 

The tension seemed to come to a head when Tony and Steve walked into the room. Everyone erupted into a flurry of activity, peppering the two men with so many questions it was hard to make out what came from who. 

“What was taken?” Someone asked. 

“Was it anything serious?” Someone else wondered. 

“Do we need to scrap the new suit designs?” You asked, adding your voice to the babble. 

“Okay everyone settle down and give Tony some room to think.” Steve urged all of you, forming a one man barrier around Stark. Which you had to admit was rather effective. Once everyone reseated themselves and Steve gave Tony a nod, Tony cleared his throat. 

“By now you all have obviously heard that there’s been a security breach. We don’t know who is behind the breach but so far all that was leaked was text conversations of the following Avengers; Wanda, Sam, Bucky, and Y/N.” 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You were a target in the security breach. But why? Why you specifically and why just your text conversations? It seemed rather harmless considering everything else they could’ve taken. 

“Luckily Wanda doesn’t really text anyone because everyone she knows is here. As far as Sam, Bucky, and Y/N are concerned they only leaked conversations from your work phones, meaning your personal phone security isn’t in question.” Tony reassured you all. Well, it reassured Sam and Bucky at least. 

“Um, what do you mean ‘work phone’?” You asked, looking around with a puzzled expression on your face. 

“You do have a burner phone for personal use, right?” Nat asked from beside you. Now your heart was located somewhere in your feet. 

“I didn’t know I needed one.” You whispered, barely contained horror edging its way into your voice. 

“Well, I mean what’s the worst that could be there?” Sam asked, trying to reassure you. Luckily, or unluckily enough, you didn’t have to answer that question because within the coming days they would all find out. 

After the meeting you tried to go about your normal routine and ignore the security breach as best as you could. That got considerably harder the following morning, when the hacker released your private conversations with your friends for all the world to see. They went something like this: 

Sarah: Do you think Steve Rogers is good in bed? 

You: Obviously, dumb question. 

Sarah: Do you think he’s kinky though? 

You: Oh 100%, no way he doesn’t have a secret sex dungeon or something. 

Sarah: Since you’re an Avenger now you should try to find out. 

You: HAHAHAHAHA that’s hilarious and something I’ll never do, in reality. But in theory PUT ME IN COACH! I bet he would probably make me sign an NDA and I would totally be down for that. 

Sarah: I’ll sign a DNR

You: HAA, I would sign the NDA but also have to tell you what’s happening and then I would make you sign an NDA. 

Sarah: Then you’re breaking the NDA??

You: Not if you don’t tell anyone goddamn be cool. 

Sarah: It’s the principle of the thing

You: ...I wonder what kind of dom he is

Sarah: Idk if he’s a daddy. He feels like a Sir or Master. I also think he doesn’t have soft limits, only hard limits. 

You: as much as I would like to think he’s a pleasure dom I don’t think that’s true

Sarah: I agree

You: Maybe a brat tamer? 

Sarah: That feels too tame for him. 

You: Okay so then just a no holds bard whipping dom. I would wait all day in his sex dungeon just to lick his boots when he came home. Does that make me depraved? Probably. 

Sarah: Possibly, I also think he’d degrade the shit out of you, like kinda pet play shit. I also think he has a spreader bar collection. Aaaand an overstimulation kink. 

You: Oh agreed, that and edging. I feel like he would edge you for hours and then leave to go on a mission or something and you’re not allowed to touch yourself and then he comes back hours later and you’re just aching for release. And then only after you’re BEGGING he would let you come. 

Sarah: Oof. How much do you wanna bet his dungeon is like a sensory deprivation thing? Think about it, hours upon hours of not having any form of relief, after begging nonstop, no real form of your senses and then BAM normal orgasm but heightened to the absolute max. 

You: YEP! I bet he’s like the king of aftercare though, like 1000/10 so sweet. Like Steve Rogers is legit such a nice human being so I assume aftercare is the same. 

Sarah: AYO SIR LEMME BE YOUR SUB

You: GOD FORREAL!

Needless to say, you did not leave your room that day. The next day you tried to get away with not leaving your room again but Nat was having none of that. 

“Come on Y/N, I promise it’s not that bad, I’ve said much worse.” She assured you as she practically dragged you out of your room and into the elevator. 

You buried your head in your hands and let out a frustrated scream. “He’s a coworker, Nat, and I totally objectified him and basically said all the filthy things I wanted him to do to me.” 

“And I bet he’s real flattered about it! The man needs a good ego boost every now and then.” She replied with a laugh. To which you responded with another frustrated scream and a kick to the elevator doors as they opened. “I bet he didn’t even read it, I doubt anyone on the team did.” She said, sounding certain in her own thinking. She half convinced you until you walked into the training room and every pair of eyes turned to you, including Steve’s baby blues. Fuck. 

“Okay we’re working in a group today people, focusing on enhanced individuals with external powers. Wanda and Y/N against Sam, Bucky, and Steve.” Nat announced, opening the door to the special training facility. So you and Wanda wouldn’t trash too much of Stark’s equipment with your powers. 

“Hey Y/N, you been to any good sex dungeouns recently? I’m looking for one.” Sam quipped as you made your way to the starting point. Before you could even think about what you were doing the smell of ozone was ripe in the air and you sent a bolt of lightning hurtling towards Sam who was barely able to dodge it in time. 

“Sorry...hand slipped.” You mock apologized, making it clear that you would have another ‘hand slip’ if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. He got the point well enough but the damage was already done. The tension was worse now than when you first found out about the breach, everyone trying not to bring up the elephant in the room. 

Nat cleared her throat and started her countdown and then the training began in earnest. After an hour you were all panting and sweating, utterly spent from your session. Steve passed everyone a water bottle and you took it gratefully, chugging the cool liquid in earnest. It was then that another comment was made, this time by Bucky. 

“Thanks for the aftercare daddy.” He mocked as he opened his own water bottle. Once again the smell of ozone was in the air but you didn’t have a chance to meet your target before Steve had Bucky pressed against the wall, his forearm digging into the other man’s throat. 

“That’s enough.” He growled through his teeth. Everyone was silent for a minute and you almost felt sorry for the deer in the headlights look Bucky was now wearing on his face, almost. A shower of frustrated sparks extinguished all the lights in the room as you stormed from the room, embarrassment trailing after you. 

That had been four hours ago and you hadn’t left your room, despite Natasha banging on the other side of your door. You had asked FRIDAY not to open it for anyone unless given your express permission. It seemed even the AI knew what kind of a mess you had landed yourself into, as she was immediately understanding of such a request. You were in the process of ordering a burner phone off of Amazon when there was a knock at your door. 

“Nat, I don’t care how many books you offer to buy me, I’m NOT coming out of this room.” You yelled into the empty space of your room. 

“Noted, but uh, it’s Steve. Can we talk?” You were at the door before he finished his sentence. You opened it no more than a crack, not courageous enough to do more. 

“I don’t wanna talk to you, I’m mortified.” You mumbled, looking down at your feet instead of the imposing figure outside of your door. Steve gently pushed on the door with his hand and you let him open it the rest of the way. He brought gentle fingers to your chin and tilted your head back so you were looking into his eyes. 

“There’s nothing to be mortified about, sweetheart. I just wanna talk.” He replied beseechingly. And maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the way he looked at you, but you relented and let him in, closing the door softly behind you. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry for what I said. I obviously never thought it would see the light of day but that’s not an excuse and doesn’t make it okay. Fuck, Steve I’m so sorry. I can get reassigned if you want, have SHIELD put me somewhere else.” You rattled off apologies and half baked plans before you felt his hands gently clasp your shoulders and once again you were forced to look up into his eyes which had gone saucer wide. 

“Doll what are you talking about? You don’t need to be reassigned, it's not that big of a deal.” He said, in an attempt to comfort you. 

“Not a big deal? I practically accused you of having a sex dungeon and being a mega dom.” You blurted out, mortification making your voice rise half an octave. 

He let out a soft sigh before he sat down on the edge of your bed, “It’s not like you were completely in the wrong.” He replied, and that’s when your brain short circuited. 

“What? You have a sex dungeon?” 

“Well, it’s not a dungeon, it's just my bedroom, but yes I do, partake in those types of things you described.” He explained, his voice as even and calm as if he were discussing the weather. 

“Oh.” Was all you could really bring yourself to say. 

“Oh? That’s all? I have to say you were much more articulate in your texts.” He teased, his voice suddenly becoming deeper and taking on an air of authority that wasn’t there a second ago. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

And again, maybe it was because of his tone or because of the absurdity of the situation you found yourself in but you answered him honestly. “I’m thinking I’m absolutely mortified that my coworker found out how badly I want him to fuck me.” 

“What else?” He prompted. You couldn’t breathe properly, he was taking all the air from the room and the intensity in his gaze pinned you to the spot, like an unsuspecting doe finding itself at the barrel of a gun. 

“I’m wondering how correct my predictions were. What kind of a dom you are.” 

“Would you like to find out?” 

“Yes.” You answered before you could think better of it. The second the word left your mouth your eyes went wide at the confession. Because you did want to find out, God did you want to find out what kind of shit Steve Rogers, the golden boy, was into. 

“Then we have ourselves a deal. You want to find out what I’m into and I want to show you.” 

“Right now?” You asked, breathless. You could feel your core ache at the suggestion, the want plain as day. 

He chuckled before he moved to stand before you. “No pretty girl, not yet.” He whispered, bringing his right hand up to cup your cheek and stroke his thumb across the expanse of your lips. “First we have to talk about a few things.” 

“Like what?” You questioned, completely enraptured by this man, finding yourself willing to submit to whatever he wanted you to. You were terrified by how much the prospect excited you. 

“Like exactly what you want me to do to you. Your texts were very...explicit. But, that may have just been talk. I need to know specifics if this is going to work.” Steve explained, backing you up until you hit your dresser. Without a word he lifted you on top of it and stood between your legs, one of his hands tracing absent minded patterns on your thigh. 

It was hard to think with him in such close proximity but you tried to clear your mind because you really wanted this, your mouth went dry at the thought. “I want...I want to be tied up. And I want to be blindfolded. And whipped.” It felt weird to lay your desires out plain before you like this. It made you feel exposed, but it was also oddly empowering. 

Steve nodded his head at your requests. “You mentioned something to your friend about edging and orgasm denial, is that something you still wanted to try?” 

“Yes, but not, not yet. I’ve never um, I haven’t- I’ve never been kinky with a partner.” You explained to him, feeling an embarrassing heat creeping up your face. 

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed, we all start somewhere.” Steve insisted, bringing his hands up to settle on your hips. “Anything else?” After you shook your head he gave you a nod in reassurance. “Okay, I’ll be in touch.” He said as he stepped away from you. 

That was three days ago and you hadn’t heard anything from him on the matter since. You had trained with him, went for a run with him, had the usual team meetings and exchanged the usual pleasantries but nothing out of the ordinary. You had even gone far enough in your wandering mind to think that maybe you imagined the whole interaction. 

On Friday, you were told that Steve had gone away on a mission and by that point the team was done teasing you about the leaked conversation, already having moved on to the next thing. You had made plans to go out with them that night to a community outreach thing in Manhattan. You had just gotten your jeans on when a piece of paper slid across your floor from the door. 

You walked over to it, thinking someone had just dropped their paper, when you saw what was written on the other side of it.

Text an excuse to Stark for the outreach and then come to my room. -SR 

Your heartbeat sped up to a gallop as you read the message through two more times, just to be certain. This was it, it was happening. With shaky fingers you texted Tony a flimsy excuse about draft reports you needed to finish before you put your phone back on your desk and calmly made your way to Steve’s room. 

You went to knock but found the door slightly ajar. Taking that as your cue you stepped into Steve Rogers room. While it wasn’t the first time you had been here, it was certainly a circumstance that you weren’t used to. Everything seemed...different somehow. The curtains were drawn and the only light came from dim overhead lighting. There was a faint scent of jasmine that you assumed came from a candle or incense burner you couldn’t see somewhere. On the bed, the sheets had been changed to something that looked like silk and resting on top was an eye mask and two long chords of rope. Which seemed innocuous enough, current circumstances notwithstanding. 

“Shut the door and lock it please.” A voice commanded from a shadow in the corner of the room. As soon as you locked the door Steve Rogers emerged from the shadows in an all black version of his Captain America suit. You had never seen him in such a suit before and the sight of him in it made your mouth water and your knees buckle. This was really happening. 

“I have to admit, when I read your text conversation I was surprised to say the least. I didn’t know how many dirty thoughts resided in that head of yours but you did not disappoint, did you sweetheart?” He questioned as he made his way over to where you stood, rooted to your spot by the door. He gently pressed against your shoulder and you followed his lead, letting him back you against the door, his strong hands landing on either side of your head, arms caging you in. “And then when we spoke, you were /very/ specific in what you wanted and I am nothing if not obliging, you’ll find.” He whispered into your ear and you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your mouth at the implication behind his words. 

“Are you ready to be my good girl? Hmm sweetheart?” 

“Yes Steve.” You whispered, your mind not being able to form anything other than those words. 

He made a slight tsking sound. “In here, don’t call me Steve. It’s Captain. Got it?” 

“Yes Captain.” You replied obediently. 

“Good girl, now get undressed for me.” He commanded, stepping back to give you room to complete his task. With nervous fingers you lifted your shirt above your head and undid the clasp on your bra. You watched as Steve’s eyes took in your exposed top half, he licked his lips which made you shiver in turn. Confidence growing by his visible excitement you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them down your legs along with your panties, until you were gloriously naked before him. 

“God, you're so beautiful sweetheart. I’m already getting hard and all you’ve done is get undressed.” He praised you as he palmed himself through his tac pants. “Come here pretty girl.” He insisted as he picked up the blindfold. 

You walked over to him and turned around as he secured the blindfold against your eyes and tied it for you. “Now, we’re gonna use a color system, okay? Green means you’re okay to keep going, Yellow means to slow down, and Red means stop. Can you remember that doll?” 

“Yes Captain.” You murmured as you adjusted to not being able to see. You tuned into your other senses to rely on what was happening. You felt Steve take your hand and walk you over until you reached the side of the bed. He helped you up before asking you to lay down on your back. 

“Okay pretty girl I’m gonna tie you up now.” He told you as you felt both of his hands take your left arm and maneuver it above your head before securing your wrist in place with rope. He pressed a gentle kiss to the spot before repeating the process with your other arm. “How do you feel sweetheart?” 

“Good Captain, I feel good.” You told him as your heartbeat kicked up another notch. You felt him take your left leg with gentle fingers and tie your ankle to the baseboard of the bed. You gasped as he secured your right ankle, knowing you were now naked and spread bare before him. You felt the bed dip as he kneeled over you and brought his mouth down to whisper in your ear. 

“What’s your color baby?” 

“Green.” You replied. Almost immediately you felt his lips press against yours, desperate and hungry for you. You kissed back with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. It was a strange sensation, kissing someone you couldn’t touch let alone see, but that didn’t make it unpleasant. You felt blissfully detached from your body and the need raced down to your pussy until you had the sudden urge to close your legs and hide your arousal. 

Steve chuckled against your mouth as his left hand snaked down to see what you were trying in vain to hide. “So eager for me and we’ve hardly started” He lazily swiped his fingers along your folds to feel the wetness that gathered there. He then brought the same hand up to your breast and worked your juices around your nipple, making you groan at the sheer wantonness of it all. Steve happily swallowed your groan with his mouth, his tongue taking the opportunity to pass your lips. 

You fervently kissed him back as his ministrations against your nipple continued. His lips left yours and left a trail of hot kisses down your throat and over to your neglected right nipple. You felt him blow cold air on it and your back bowed against the bed, your arms straining against the restraints. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud and you couldn’t help the noises that escaped your mouth. 

“Oh fuck, Captain.” You let out as he took your nipple into his mouth. You could feel his left hand leave your nipple and you let out a whine of protest. He only laughed against your skin before you heard the faint opening of a drawer. Your ears picked up the sound of him rummaging around for something but you couldn’t focus too much on that as the rest of your body was alight with fire as he continued to work on your nipple with his mouth. He finally found what he was looking for in the drawer and he released your nipple with a wet popping sound before you felt his weight shift and he removed himself from you. 

“You mentioned something about being whipped.” He teased, and you could hear that his own arousal had made his voice hoarse. Your cunt throbbed in response. “Do you know what a flogger is pretty girl?” 

“Yes Captain.” You replied from your position on the bed. Your mouth went dry at the mental image you had of Steve in his black tac suit with a flogger in hand. How would he use it on you? Would it hurt? Be pleasant? The anticipation was eating you up in the best of ways. 

“Good girl. We’re gonna do some counting. Since this is your first time we won’t do too many, just ten. But you have to count them pretty girl. If you forget, or lose count, we start over. Do you understand?” 

Oh fuck. “Yes Captain.” You heard him chuckle from somewhere above you before you heard the whoosh of the flogger and the sensation on your skin. You gasped as the leather straps came down hard against your left nipple. “One.” The second one came down against your right nipple and you found that your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.” 

Numbers three, four, and five were placed on your nipples and your stomach.

“Halfway there pretty girl, you’re doing so well.” Steve’s voice came from somewhere around you. A thin layer of sweat had broken out over your skin and your arousal was through the roof. You found yourself panting in anticipation of the next strike. It came, the leather striking against your dripping center and you let out a gasp as your back arched off of the silk sheets. “Six” 

“Oh you liked that one didn’t you sweetheart?” Steve teased. 

“Yes Captain.” You replied breathlessly. Number seven came in the same spot and another lewd sound left your mouth as the flogger found its spot. Numbers eight and nine he placed on the sensitive insides of your thighs. 

“Last one pretty girl. You’ve taken it so well I’ll let you decide where this last one goes.” 

“Hit my pussy again, please, I want it so bad Captain.” You practically pleaded. Under any other circumstances you would’ve been ashamed at how pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. Steve Rogers was doing depraved things to you and you couldn’t think straight. You just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing, to take all of you, every tiny nook and cranny of your being until he knew your pleasures like the back of his hand. 

“Such a needy girl, maybe after the flogger I’ll give you a reward.” He replied, sounding pleased with you, before he placed the tenth and final flog against your aching core. “God you look so sexy like this, blindfolded and tied to my bed, maybe I should leave you here as my own personal fucktoy, would you like that baby?” He asked as he inserted two fingers into your mouth. 

You mumbled your response against the digits, your pussy getting wetter at the thought of him using you like that. You were only half kidding when you had texted your friend about it but now, with your arousal so strong, it sounded more and more enticing. Steve removed his fingers from your mouth and brought them down to your sensitive center, rubbing them up and down your slit before inserting them into your slick heat. You gasped at the intrusion and felt your hips buck up in response to being filled. 

Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he began to pump them at a leisurely pace. You felt him make his way down your body to nestle himself between your spread legs and then his hot breath was fanning out over your cunt as his fingers continued to fuck you. “You look so good, pretty girl. Spread open for me like my own personal feast. God you’re so wet. I guess you like to be flogged.” He spoke, the filthy words that left his lips making you wetter than you already were. Without warning he brought his tongue to you and kitten licked your clit, sending a shockwave through your system. 

He took your clit in his mouth and sucked as he continued to work you with his fingers. You fruitlessly tugged against your restraints and bucked your hips in an attempt to get the friction you so desperately needed. 

“God sweetheart you taste better than I imagined.” Steve commented as his tongue lapped up your juices. “I bet I’ll be able to taste you on my tongue for a week.” 

“Fuck, Captain, please can I cum?” You begged, tears wetting the inside of your mask from the intensity of your session. 

“Come for me baby, let me feel you come on my fingers.” Steve commanded and that was your undoing. The knot that had been building inside of you was finally released and you came loudy around his fingers. You felt him lick you through the aftershocks. 

“Talk to me, pretty girl, how are you feeling?” Steve questioned, voice hot once again by your ear. His suit gently pressing against your overstimulated skin. “Give me a color.” He asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline. 

“I’m good Captain, still Green.” You responded, coming down from your orgasm. 

“Such a good girl for your Captain. You’re doin’ so well pretty girl.” He said as he left the bed. You weren’t sure where he went until you felt his dexterous fingers undoing the ropes on your left leg. “I’m undoing the leg ropes first. And then I’m going to fuck you senseless like I’ve been wanting to do since I saw those damn text messages.” Your spent cunt clenched around nothing, as you eagerly waited for him to undo the other leg restraint. You could hear him undo the many zippers and clasps on his tac suit until the bed dipped and he was once again between your legs. 

This time skin met skin as you felt his upper thighs press between yours as he brought himself closer to you still. You felt the tip of his cock slide between your wet folds before slipping inside. The breath was stolen from your lungs at the feel of him sinking into your waiting cunt. A low moan left your mouth as you felt every perfect inch of him spreading you until he bottomed out and his hips nestled perfectly against your own. 

You felt his forehead press against your own. “Fuck you feel perfect, you know that pretty girl? My perfect little pussy.” He breathed against your mouth as he let you adjust to him. He retracted himself from you fully before swiftly filling you up again. Any noise you may have made was swallowed as he kissed you with a hunger you didn’t think was possible. What started as a slow rhythm quickly changed until he was snapping into you with a fervor akin to a madman. 

Your hips eagerly met his thrusts and soon your combined pants and skin slapping filled the room. Still blindfolded, you felt the moment his hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed just so. That had your walls flutter around him and your hips stuttered. 

“Oh you like that don’t you? You like when I choke you huh pretty girl?” He asked eagerly, his voice husky from moaning. 

“Yes, fuck, please Captain, fuck me.” You rasped out. You grunted as he brought his other hand down to press your hips into the mattress before he slammed into you at a relentless pace. Eventually, his hand left your throat to play with your bundle of nerves. 

“Come on pretty girl. Come for me.” He ordered and you were only too happy to comply. You came hard around him, enough that you saw stars behind the blindfold and Steve let out a string of curses and praises for you as he pulled out of you and you felt his cum paint your stomach. 

You had a moment to catch your breath as you heard Steve pad over to what you assumed was the bathroom. He came back and placed a warm washcloth against your skin, cleaning up the combined mess you both made. Then you felt his hands move up to untie the blindfold around your eyes. You squinted into the low light of the room and were shocked to see Steve bare chested and glistening with sweat before you. 

“Hi.” You murmured shyly, finding that some of your confidence had left you along with the blindfold. Seeing him like this, because of you, because of what you had done, somehow cemented this moment in reality. There was no turning back now. 

“Hi yourself, how do you feel?” He asked as he undid the ropes around your wrists. 

“I um wow, I feel great.” You said and realized it was true. In the afterglow of the scene you felt amazing. Sexy and empowered and utterly spent but undeniably amazing. 

“You did great.” Steve assured you as he took lotion into his hands and massaged the areas on your wrists and ankles where the ropes had been. He placed a gentle kiss on each palm when he was done and went to get you a glass of water. “Drink all of this.” 

You took the glass from his hands and drank deep. Appreciating the cool feeling of the water as it slid down the column of your throat, you didn’t realize how thirsty you had become. You finished the glass and handed it back to Steve, who placed it on one of his bedside tables. 

“Good girl.” He praised and you felt yourself blush in response. He noticed. “Do you like being praised, sweetheart?” 

“Yes Captain.” You nodded. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied as he helped you into one of his shirts and placed you underneath the covers. He rested beside you and wrapped you in his strong arms. “You did so well today for your first time. It wasn’t too much for you was it?” 

“No, I really liked it.” You reassured him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead with a promise to discuss it more after you slept some.

[taramikealson]

Just a sort of canon-ish Drabble that I got a little carried away with.

Set after the events in TVD excluding the “Hell” storyline in Season 8, the miracle babies, Caroline dating Alaric, Marcel taking the serum, and a few minor changes that are hopefully recognizable.

He could feel the irritation crawl along his skin like a serpent slithering itself up and around a tree. With the irritation, came anger.

Sometimes he enjoyed the challenge that came with others riffling with his plans. He has theories as to why he does but deep down he knows the true reason. His wolf. The thrill and excitement that came with the thought of the hunt. Predators such as wolves are born hunters who thrive on such games.

But, he is not only a wolf. No, he is a strategist- a remarkable one at that. There had been no plan, no despicable machination of his that hasn’t had a fail-safe.

Except for this one.

He had gotten himself into a situation where he finally became comfortable again after nearly ten centuries of running. And when he got comfortable, he began to lose his edge.

After successfully re-stabilizing the Quarter and allowing his brother to take a leading role in the peace treaty between the factions, New Orleans fell quiet. Of course, every so often there’d be a dispute between a couple of the factions that rose a concern within his elder brother, but that was always unavoidable. Werewolves, witches, and vampires alike have fought for centuries, that type of violence and warfare doesn’t automatically stop with a peace treaty. His brother may hope for that positive outcome but Klaus had always been a realist. And, unfortunately as he predicted, the peace was temporary.

“Niklaus, this is not a situation that we should ignore.” His brother’s voice sounded through the phone that he had pressed against his right ear.

No, this isn’t something we should ignore. He thinks, tentatively keeping his lips pressed together to keep himself from speaking of something that perhaps his brother shouldn’t know.

“Should Marcel make a regretful move, this treaty we’ve formed could very well be null and void.”

If Marcel were to make a move, it may start a gruesome war between the vampires and werewolves. If Klaus knew Marcel well enough, his former right-hand man is most likely planning something rather ill-conceived. He hasn’t theorized whether the harsh consequences will weigh the heaviest on either the vampires or werewolves, or even the whole Quarter all together. No matter what they may be, he’s most certain his brother won’t be quite pleased with what he has planned.

Although Klaus once held a tight hold over the vampires, it came to his attention that Marcel continued to be respected amongst both the day and nightwalker community. Thus, why in the time of tension, they clamber to him in search of a leader to choose the decisions that will benefit them. Which is why Klaus has chosen to keep the werewolves as an ally. The werewolves have proven to be loyal to Hayley and his daughter because they both are seen as part of the pack, which unnerves Klaus but gives him the relief that those wolves will protect his daughter. The connection that Hayley holds with those werewolves is bound to be manipulated, might as well be him to do so in a beneficial way. For both the stability of New Orleans and the safety of his daughter.

“Brother, do you understand me?”

His shoes crunch against the small layer of gravel underneath his feet.

“Yes.” Klaus tries his best to keep the irritation out of his voice but his answer still sounds short.

The hybrid immediately ends the call, noting that the conversion was to be continued in person. While pocketing his phone, he takes a few steps further along the rooftop and then steps up onto the ledge, giving him a grand view of the Quarter from a few buildings away.

A rough shuffle and a few voices could be heard from a little farther down the alley below him, but he didn’t much care about the happenings within the alley. From what he could hear, there were two men speaking in hushed tones, their heartbeats slower and more quiet indicating their undead nature. The fast and erratic heartbeat that was a few paces in front of them was a clear indication to Klaus of what the vampires below were planning to do.

His lips turned up slightly. He, himself, was feeling a bit peckish, perhaps he’ll grab a quick bite before he returns home to his disapproving older brother.

The vampires eventually closed the woman in, murmuring to her about where she was going and why she was out at such a time. He found it interesting that she stayed quiet. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the women would say something whether it be a plea to let them go or an angry curse.

Wanting to stay out of the house- more like away from his brother- for as long as he can, he turned his head to look down the alleyway. If this ends to be unentertaining, he’ll most likely grab a drink at Rousseau’s.

There, he could see both the vampires crowd into the blonde woman’s space. She has her back pushed up against the rough brick.

“I don’t think it’s very safe for a lady like yourself to be out here.” The vampire states before his eyes transform and fangs replace his blunt teeth. Usually, this is when the victims begin to scream or mutter that modern saying, oh my, God. But the woman doesn’t seem as scared as a normal human would be.

“You’re making a mistake.” She murmurs and Klaus’ eyes widen a hair, recognizing the voice. But before he can think of anything else, the woman is thrusting a wooden stake into the vampire’s stomach.

The vampire doubles over and the other vampire goes to attack the human but he’s no match for Klaus’ speed. Without a second thought, Klaus appears before the vampire, shoving him back before he could get to the woman. The other vampire has now pulled the stake from his torso and was looking to kill but Klaus turned toward him.

“Enough.”

The vampire pauses but scowls at him, a look of disgust and anger apparent in his eyes. His hand rises and points to the human. “She stabbed me! She’s a tourist! Tourists are fair game-,”

“And you would be in the right if it weren’t for her being under my protection.”

The vampire looks a little surprised at Klaus’ declaration and is about to protest once more but Klaus beats him to it.

“Now, I suggest you scamper off to Marcel before I’m tempted to rid you both of your hands.”

Both vampires share a glance and Klaus continues to stand his ground confidently. Eventually, the vampires figure out that it’s probably best for them to avoid any conflict with an Original, the Original Hybrid no less. Thus, they both give the human one last threatening look before flashing away into the night.

With the vampires disappearance, Klaus had began to turn around and quip something sarcastic but his whole expression changes when Caroline’s knees give out. His hands come out at vampiric speed as he catches her by her upper arms and kneels down as he slowly lowers with her.

It’s then that he sees her clearly. Her hair isn’t as perfect as she normally used to keep it, almost like she hasn’t had access to the proper equipment. Her clothes were a little wrinkled and two small dark red dots bled through her white shirt indicating that a bandaged wound was leaking. Concern now flooded through him as his eyes connected with her face. It was as beautiful as ever but there was a deep exhaustion and a line of stress etched into her forehead. Oh how his heart now aches. He thinks that he hasn’t felt as worried for someone as he is with Hope, but yet here he is, holding her just enough so she doesn’t slump over.

He now realizes that she hadn’t just lost most of her strength, but had been keeping herself from showing any weakness towards those vampires. If he wasn’t so concerned with her health, he’d be praising her for her stubborn strength.

“Caroline, look at me, love.” He aides her by tilting her head up gently by her chin. Her eyes are tired and look so vulnerable.

She looks as if she’s about to say something but Klaus shakes his head. “Conserve your strength. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” If those words were spoken to anyone else, they’d have a right mind to be worried but she seemed to feel relieved. He takes that as permission to pick her up, holding her from underneath her legs and shoulders.

His thoughts of what his brother will think of him are completely wiped away when he races to his home. It’s quiet but he knows his brother is lurking somewhere. He’s not quite concerned about Freya, Rebekah, and Hayley’s absences. Ever since the incident between the werewolves and vampires, Hayley has taken it upon herself to help with the remaining pack. Freya is most likely working on another miracle to save this city’s peace and it’s no surprise that Rebekah is with Marcel.

Klaus contemplates taking Caroline to a guest bedroom but the closest one to his is farther than he’d like so he figures that taking her to his bedroom won’t be the worst idea. At least he’d be able to keep a close eye on her for the time being.

He sets her down gently to the dark grey covers and takes a sharp turn into the bathroom. Klaus comes back out a few moments later with a wet washcloth and a couple different sizes of bandages. Caroline shifts a little and grazes her hand against the side of her torso where the wound was which seems to instantly sober her up. She lets out a small gasp and grimaces in pain. Her hand hovers over it as if it’d take the pain away. Klaus walks back over to her and sits on the edge of the bed, a few inches separating himself from her.

Extending his hand, his eyes travel up to her face seeking silently for any sign of rejection before pulling the edge of her shirt up to reveal a blood-soaked bandage. His hands slowly peel away the bandage and Klaus didn’t know what to expect but he hadn’t expect something quite as brutal as this. No, this was not a wound from an accident, this was intentional and by someone who was trying to harm Caroline. In fact, he was quite knowledgeable about this particular wound, or had been when he was human. By the sharp angles of the shape of the wound, he could tell it had been an arrow tip that pierced her skin. When he was human, Kol had been recklessly playing with his father’s bow and accidentally shot Finn in the shoulder. He had kept that arrow shaped scar for as long as he could remember. But just because Finn had survived, it only made Klaus more concerned.

By the tear of the wound, it seems to have been reopened due to stress. Although, he imagines that it’s good news that it’s not infected. Klaus is as gentle as he possibly can be when he pays the wet washcloth along her wound. She bites her lip hard and grasps his arm in a painful grip but he allows her to do so, hoping that if a fraction of his pain can dull hers, then so be it.

After a few moments, she slowly takes her hand away and he begins to clean around the wound.

“Klaus-,”

“Don’t.” He begins, “not now.”

His words come out a tad harsher than intended but she knows he’s just concerned and doesn’t know how to healthily deal with it like a normal human.

“I need you to listen just for once.”

“Caroline, let yourself rest before we speak of anything.”

She appreciated the notion that he valued her safety and well-being more than an explanation of why she showed up in his city as a human. But this couldn’t wait, for her safety and his own.

To truly get his attention, she places her hand on top of the one that was still cleaning the blood off her skin. It pauses its movements and he looks up to her.

“I- I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to use you for your contacts but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She hesitates to continue because after she asks, his involvement becomes concrete. Because she knows that he’ll help her. “I need a witch, someone powerful. Someone who can do a cloaking spell that can’t be broken by another witch.”

His face doesn’t express as much emotion as she thought it would but she doesn’t think that it’s a bad thing. He obviously seems to be contemplating something as his eyes bore into hers.

Setting aside the washcloth, he straightens out and takes a sleek black phone out of his jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he clicks a few times on the screen and places the phone against his ear.

“Freya, I need you at the Compound immediately.” With that, he puts his phone away and reaches for a bandage. Taking the plastic off, he softly places it over her wound, pressing along the outside, securing it to her skin without causing her pain.

His eyes refocus onto hers and she spots the anger that has now manifested within those blue orbs. “Who did this?” He asks and Caroline Knew she should have known better than to think the wound wouldn’t show any foul play.

“Silas.” Klaus’ lips part in confusion. For all he knows, Silas had been put in a safe and thrown down the quarry. God, things got complicated since he’d left. Much more complicated than she would have liked.

“For a while he pretended to be Stefan. We didn’t know because we thought he could only mess with a couple people’s perspectives but turns out he’s a doppelgänger.” She mentally cringes when remembering how Silas continuously terrorized her and her friends. She also remembers how Silas had made everyone think he was dead when Stefan killed him but had used it as an out to chalk up another plan that revolved solely around revenge. Against her.

Caroline begins to pull herself up into a sitting position so she’s resting against the headboard and is thankful when Klaus helps her. “Before you came back, we thought Stefan killed Silas but he’d used some last resort spell and it gave him the perfect out to recollect himself.”

“I guess he waited for a few years for things to settle down and for us to be off our guard.Damon was as happy as he could be considering Elena, Bonnie was back, and Stefan and I were getting back on good terms. Silas approached me on the last day of my Senior year.” Klaus notices as she bites her lip and looks down at her hands that have begun to twiddle in slight nervousness. “Silas made me think we were making some kind of deal. I leave my friends behind and never go back to Mystic Falls, or he kills me and everyone I care about. I chose to leave.”

Swallowing, her eyes darted from her hands to Klaus’ face to gauge what he might have been thinking but he wasn’t showing any sign other than that he was just listening to her, allowing her to pour whatever worries she had onto him.

“I don’t know if he thought that I would just settle down in some other place to get the opportunity to know my whereabouts while he tried to kill my friends but he called negotiations off when I skipped the third town I went to. So, he went after me.” When the single tear fell from her eye, she was a little surprised at how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. “I told everyone that I was taking off for a little bit to go travel since I had finished college. I didn’t want them to try to find me and end up as one of Silas’ next victims.”

She pauses and wipes the stray tear away, trying to recollect herself. She must look like hell, crying would only make it worse. Caroline needed to man-up. There was no doubt that what Klaus had gone through with his father, or step-father, was worse.

Klaus leans forward and takes her hand into his, letting him drop a feather-light kiss along her knuckles. “You are safe. If I ever promise you anything, I will certainly promise you that.”

Caroline can’t help the small smile that forms on her face, knowing that he is being truly genuine. His lips turn up as well.

A small knock on the door interrupts them and Klaus rises from the bed. A taller dirty blonde woman stands in the doorway, analyzing both of them. Klaus crosses the room and pulls the woman further into the hallway, speaking to her in a hushed tone.

After a moment of back and forth conversation, they both advance into the room. Klaus pauses for a minute, watching as the woman approaches the side of the bed. She offers Caroline a reassuring smile that tells her she’s most likely a friend of Klaus’ or at least someone in his good graces.

“Caroline, right? I’m the older and wiser Mikealson sibling, Freya.” Caroline blinks for a moment and looks to Klaus in confusion. Although, she assumes what the woman, Freya, is saying must be somewhat true because all Klaus does is slightly roll his eyes in such a brotherly manner before turning towards the liquor tray.

“Niklaus tells me you need a little bit of a complex cloaking spell.” Caroline nods. Being that Freya must be a Mikealson, it is always safe to walk on eggshells around the ones she’s not very familiar with, no doubt the ones that she never knew about.

Freya turns towards the hybrid who was sipping his drink. “Will you fetch my grimoire and my herb bowl from the study, brother?” Klaus doesn’t seem all too eager to be ordered around but he does as asked and walks out of the room. Freya turns back towards Caroline and motions to the space when Klaus had sat before.

“May I?”

Caroline gives her a short nod and Freya smiles.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I thought all Mikealsons were kinda bordering on the ‘I don’t help anyone but my family’ ideology.” Caroline was going to be more subtle about it but she’s injured and doesn’t feel well, might as well rip off the band-aid.

Funnily enough, Freya laughs. “I’d agree with you but I’m quite aware of who you are.”

Now, that was surprising. Did Klaus say anything about her to his siblings? It didn’t seem like something he’d do. Her mouth opened to say something but she couldn’t find her words. It seems like Freya had an idea of what she was thinking and thought to correct her.

“I saw you when I entered my brother’s mind. If it weren’t under life and death circumstances I wouldn’t have done so. Trust me, I’ve already heard a mouthful from Niklaus.”

That made Caroline even a bit more nervous. Did this woman know everything about her and Klaus then? Had she watched some of their interactions? “How much do you know?” She asks.

“Just enough to know how important you are to my brother.”

That’s not cryptic at all. Caroline isn’t sure if that means Freya knows a little too much than she should or not but she imagines that she can’t push the woman any further than she’s willing so she shuts her mouth. And she also really doubts that Klaus is out of earshot, he can probably hear almost anything from the other side of the house so it’s best not to speak out of turn. Or maybe just not too much about him.

Speak of the devil, because he then walks through the door not even a few moments afterwards, carrying a grimoire and a small bowl with a few items in it that looked close to medical supplies.

He comes up behind his sister and sets her grimoire down on the bed and intentionally hands her the bowl, making her notice the extra supplies within. A sterile needle with surgical string and a couple other medical supplies. As he hands the bowl over to her, he murmurs, “perhaps you should also take a look at her wound, sister.”

By the look in his eye, she could tell he was a bit more concerned about the girl’s physical wound than the cloaking spell being down. Then again, both siblings knew that with all of the magic surrounding the Compound, it would take a highly skilled witch at least a couple hours to work through a location spell for anyone who was there.

Freya nods and takes the bowl from him. Klaus steps back and takes a seat directly across the room from the bed in one of the leather chairs, still allowing Caroline to see him.

The witch silently asks for permission to have a closer look at Caroline’s wound before pulling the new bandage away. Caroline watches Freya’s eyebrows furrow as she inspects the wound. Freya’s eyes look back up to her.

“Have you had this looked at before?”

Caroline shakes her head lightly. “But I tried to keep it closed.” Her lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. “You only learn so much in high school and college level health classes.” Freya understands the lightheartedness within the statement and offers her a smile.

“Well, it seems like you at least kept it clean.” Freya begins. “But I’ll need to stitch it up a little and possibly do a proper cleaning just in case. It’ll probably be easy to put you to sleep for that.”

Caroline’s eyebrows furrow at the lack of a surgical syringe. “Like a witchy anesthesia?”

Freya seems to enjoy her lack of magical knowledge and find amusement in it. “Something along those lines.”

“You’ve done it before, right?”

The witch lets out a small laugh. “Yes, but I can certainly do a demonstration.” Her head turns over her shoulder towards her younger brother but Klaus seems unimpressed.

It was a little reassuring seeing him naturally take up his brotherly role. She hadn’t ever really seen that side of him and never saw him actually interact with his siblings before. It was nice to know that even the Original Hybrid could act like a typical brother once in a great while.

“I promise it’s safe and when you wake, your wound will be patched right up.” Freya reassures and Caroline nods. She knows that Klaus will go just about as far as he possibly can to keep her safe which tells her that Freya is trustworthy. So, she doesn’t think about it too long before she murmurs, “okay.”

———————————————-

Upon breaking the fog of sleep, she doesn’t feel as weak as she had before Freya had put her to sleep which was a good sign. She begins to lift her head off the pillow and suddenly feels a warm hand help her sit up.

Looking over, she sees Klaus hovering beside her. “Easy, love. No need to tear your new sutures.”

His words remind her and she looks down, pulling her shirt up and the bandage aside to see her wound stitched up neatly with a strange light paste spread on top.

“My sister assured me that her little remedy,” he nods towards the paste on her wound, “should have healed you just enough to allow you to shower, if you wish to do so.”

The thought of a steaming hot shower is so appealing to her right now. “God, yes.” She sighs. It’s been so long since she’d been in any type of shower that wasn’t in a hotel or had some sort of modern day technology.

It seems Klaus enjoys her enthusiasm and takes it as a good sign for her health. “Would you like me to fetch my sister to help you?”

Caroline shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” She silently thinks that should anything happen, he’ll most likely be listening in on her. It was a little creepy to think about but also made her feel a tad safer knowing that he’d always make sure she was safe.

He respects her choice and helps her stand. Waiting a moment to make sure she gets her bearings, he keeps a hand on the small of her back and leads her towards the entrance of the bathroom. She silently thanks him before he closes the door to a crack after her.

Looking around the bathroom, she’s not surprised about how lavish it is and how neat it’s kept. She never really took Klaus as the person who kept his personal space in disarray. As clean as it was, it still held the feeling of being used daily. One of the medicine cabinets was left cracked open a little, a small tin and classic shaving knife was left on top of a white cloth, and a bottle of cologne sat on the counter. If Caroline had possibly thought of a bathroom Klaus would ever call his, this is probably as close to it as she’d get.

Caroline decides that if she takes too long, Klaus may think something is wrong so she strips quickly and turns the water on. She’s pleased when it takes a whole couple seconds for the water to warm. Stepping into the shower, she sighs at how good it feels. The water runs down her, rinsing away all of the dirt and grime from the past couple days.

After getting her hair wet, she reads the minimalist labels on the three bottles that sat on the shower shelf. Thank God they weren’t the typical soaps that guys used nowadays. She shivers at the thought of two-in-one products. These were just simply packaged products that were obviously a little more on the manlier side of things but it’ll have to do.

Rubbing the shampoo and conditioner in her curls, she almost felt a weight lift off of her. Once she finished up basking in the warmth of the shower, she turned the dial off and stepped out. Grabbing the white towel, she wraps it around herself and tries to dry up as much as she can.

Upon walking back over to the bathroom counter she notices that she can’t exactly wear her old clothes but she does choose to wear her bra and underwear again. Hopefully she can ask Klaus to rile her up something for her to wear.

When she exits the bathroom, she immediately notices that the French doors that had led to the balcony outside were now closed with the drapes shut and the sliding door to the bedroom was almost shut all the way. She could hear a little movement in the next room over and assumed it was Klaus.

Stepping further into the bedroom, she sees that she doesn’t even need to ask Klaus for clothes because there’s a pair of yoga pants and t-shirt folded neatly on the bed. It was also accompanied with a hairbrush. Her heart warms at the thoughtfulness but then again, Klaus had always put thought behind a lot of things that involved her.

She’s quick to take the precious privacy that he allowed her and got dressed.

He finally emerged when she was finishing up brushing her hair. He held a plate of food and a glass of water. Caroline places the hairbrush down and into the drawer of the nightstand before scooting herself further back on the bed to give him enough space. Klaus sits down on the edge of the bed and places the glass of water on the nightstand, then handing Caroline the plate. At the sight of the scrambled eggs, bacon, and assortment of fruit on the plate, she was almost worried her stomach would growl. She doesn’t even remember when she last had a proper meal.

“Thank you.” She murmurs when he hands her a clean fork.

His smile is genuine and tells her that he doesn’t find helping her to be a chore. When he watches her carefully as she began to eat, she knew that if he’d done so a few years back she’d find it extremely creepy, but now she’s come to find out that it’s his way of communicating his reassurance. He’s silently telling her that he’s here, he’s going to protect her.

“I’ll leave you to eat. Perhaps get a few more hours of sleep, it’s only a quarter after six.” He states as he rises from the bed. His eyes drift for a moment down to her torso where her wound is covered by her shirt. Something in his eyes changes and he leans down close to her head. She pauses as his lips softly connect with her forehead. He pulls back a little and looks deep into her eyes.

“So long as I have a say in the matter, Silas will never get close enough to touch you again.” He then rises to his full length and exits the room.

——————————————

After eating and getting a couple more hours of sleep she’d ventured out of Klaus bedroom to find him again. When she did he was insistent about getting her at least a week’s worth of clothing for herself. She didn’t make a second objection, knowing that either way Klaus will get her clothing, it was just a matter of if she’d pick it out or have some compelled vampire do it. Thus he’d taken her to a few local shops. In typical guy fashion, Klaus hadn’t been too animated about watching her pick clothing out. In most of the stores, they’d parted ways- her towards anything that caught her eye and him to any empty seat he could find.

Caroline tried to be as time efficient as possible knowing that even a man who has waited a thousand years to break his curse, he still had his limits of patience. As much as she thought he dreaded chaperoning her, because he refused to have a possibility of another vampire thinking they could harm her, he still offered her considerate smiles. There were a few instances where she could feel the heat of his gaze as she walked out of the dressing room. She didn’t know what to make of it and brushed it aside.

This is hopefully the first and last time Caroline thinks this, but she is thankful that Klaus has the ability to compel vampires. He had a vampire, she forgot her name, retrieved Caroline’s brand new clothes and took them to the Compound so they could continue to stroll down a few of the streets.

If Caroline hadn’t spent the last couple years skipping from city to city, she thinks she may have been a little more amazed at the New Orleans architecture. But still, it was truly stunning. She liked that Klaus didn’t directly guide her but just allowed her to wander. Soon, they’d found themselves in a bar. The bartender that approached them seemed very familiar with Klaus and when he’d introduced her to Camille, the woman was welcoming.

It didn’t escape her notice how Camille had laid eyes on Klaus for a few seconds too long before walking off to let her and Klaus enjoy their drinks.

Caroline smiles a little at the situation. “You know, she likes you.”

His lips turn up and he sips his whiskey.

“You may not be aware of this, Caroline, but you are on the exceedingly short list of women who have rejected me.” His head turns towards her with a smug smirk. “You should feel lucky, most of those women are dead.”

Caroline rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “So lucky.” She breathes and looks away from him. His chuckle is rich and deep, making her crack a small smile.

“Quite a number of women find me charming, you surely had at one time.”

The statement brings out an instinct in her to say something snarky or quip something a little harsh but she chooses not to. Instead, her teeth catch her bottom lip as she lowers her gaze to the vodka soda. She doesn’t exactly know what to do. All she’s ever done with him was constantly impolitely reject him with statements about who he killed or what bad things he’s done.

Her eyes go up to see the bartender come out from the kitchen in the back. The girl gives them a small glance and Caroline offers her a friendly smile. Camille seems a little surprised by Caroline’s friendliness, almost as if she was expected to be ignored or brushed off. Caroline has no doubt that the crowd that Klaus would spend time with would be most certainly supernatural, thus their lack of interest in simple human servers. Although, Klaus seemed a little keen of her. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think about it. If it was a few years ago, she would have rather drowned before admitting that she was a tad jealous when it came to Klaus, but she was older and more mature. So, yeah. Maybe she felt a little jealous that the girl’s feelings towards Klaus could be mutual. But she also wasn’t going to be spiteful of it.

Stirring the small straw that floated in her untouched drink, she murmurs, “If you want to go talk to her, there’s nothing stopping you.” Her voice is as neutral as she can make it.

Even now without her vampire senses, she could still feel his fiery gaze in the side of her head. He lets out a low chuckle.

“Camille is a close friend of my family. She’s sacrificed quite a bit to aid my family’s survival and I’ve repaid her loyalty with protection.” He begins. “Our relationship may have developed into somewhat of a complicated friendship since she’s known me, but that is simply it.”

Caroline turns her head towards him and his eyes are as clear blue as ever. “But by no means do I wish to be in anyone else’s company other than yours.”

There’s a brief moment between them where both of their solid barriers were dissolved and their eyes just simply met. They said nothing but their eyes communicated plenty. But, that moment was only brief.

The bell over the door to the bar chimes when it opens, the noise from the street could be heard for a moment before the door closes again. Both Klaus and Caroline are shaken out of their moment when a voice chimes.

“Now, this is interesting.”

Caroline is a little taken aback even though she should have expected to come across another Original. Hell, she wouldn’t doubt that the whole Mikealson clan was crawling around New Orleans at this point. It seemed to be almost like a hub for them.

Klaus is the first to turn in his seat and greet his sister. “Sister, a bit of a surprise to see you on this side of the river. Has Marcel finally bored you enough?” His tone has dramatically changed from the genuine one before to something more smartass-y.

When Caroline scoots on her stool a little to look more properly at the female Original, she notices how annoyed Rebekah gets because of Klaus’ comment.

“No, I came to visit my niece. Whom, in which, has noticed your lack of presence.” Rebekah then gives Caroline a disapproving glare. “But I think I know why.”

Klaus sighs quietly and Rebekah is about to say something but pauses. Her eyes scan Caroline carefully. After a moment, her eyes widen and she flashes towards Caroline, aggressively yelling, “who the bloody hell gave you the cure!?”

Caroline stumbles out of her stool as fast as she can and takes a few steps back. Rebekah is about to get into her face again but Klaus zips in front of her, blocking her way to Caroline.

“I-,” Caroline doesn’t know what to say or how to even start to calm down the Original. She’s not as strong as she once was. One little neck snap and she’ll be done.

“Rebekah.” Klaus growls in warning, earning a glare from his sister before her gaze goes back to the blonde.

“Why do you get the choice? You, of all people?”

Caroline is beyond grateful that no one else was in the bar because she’s sure that there could have been a bloodbath if there were.

Klaus is about to say something but Rebekah beats him to it.

“How is it that you get to have a normal life?”

Those words seemed to trigger something in Caroline. Something emotional.

“You think I want this? Do you think I chose to have a normal life where I’d meet some regular guy, marry him, have a few kids, and work for the rest of my life?” Rebekah frowns and Klaus turns his head just enough to look at her. “I didn’t. I don’t want that life and I didn’t choose to become human again. So, blame me all you want for being a bitch to you or whatever, but don’t blame me because you didn’t get the human life you’ve always wanted.”

It seems like Caroline’s words have an effect on Rebekah because she shrugs her brother’s hand away from her and takes a step back. Caroline can’t exactly know for sure but she thinks that maybe Rebekah can somewhat relate to her. Rebekah had always wanted to be human but was stuck as a vampire. Now, Caroline wants to be a vampire but is stuck as a human.

When Rebekah takes that step back and Klaus is sure she’s not going to try to attack Caroline again, he fully turns his body towards the blonde human. She can’t gauge exactly what he’s thinking but it could have been a cross between surprise and sympathy.

The younger Original looks almost a little guilty when she casts a glance towards Caroline but instead doesn’t say anything before flashing away. As the light breeze wafts over them from Rebekah’s exit, Klaus takes a step forward towards her.

“Caroline.”

She shakes her head. “I-,” her eyes shut for a moment. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

She fully expects Klaus to struggle with her request but he quickly proves her wrong and gives her a short nod in understanding.

————————

Caroline’s fingers drum silently against the cold metal of the railing she’s stood behind. The city has now been cascaded in darkness but people still mull about on the street beneath her. The very idea of the liveliness of this city brings a smile to her face. The neon lights of shops and street lamps were now lit up to shine down on the passerbyers below, their drunken ramblings slightly muffled due to her human hearing.

She finds that Klaus was right. There was something about this city that not only attracted the party-seeking humans, but also the darker creatures who lurked in the shadows. She may not be a vampire any longer but that doesn’t mean the connection she holds with the darkness was shaken. There is not just history in this city, it is the home of the supernatural. Caroline bets that if she were still a vampire, she could have spotted a couple dozen supernaturals that had walked by in the past thirty minutes she's been up on Klaus’ balcony.

She only hopes it doesn’t attract a different kind of supernatural.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can sense movement just as a figure joins her. Their hand grasps the railing casually and when they sigh, a white cloud escapes their lips from the continuing dropping temperature of the night. He doesn’t attempt to make a move to slide closer to her and she appreciates the space he’s giving her, along with the time of silence.

As they stood in silence, listening to the noises of the city before them, she could recall how nervous she used to get during long periods of silence. She had always tried to fill them up with mindless chatter or something to that nature. But now? She finds that she sort of enjoys it. His presence may be a little nerve-wracking at times of tension but, as of late, Caroline seems to feel at ease knowing he’s just right there- not totally offering her comfort but the reassurance of his presence.

“You’re cold.” His voice murmurs smoothly through the air. It’s only then that she notices the goosebumps that trek along her arms. The light breeze flows around them once more, reminding Caroline that she doesn’t have as much tolerance to the weather as she once had when she was a vampire.

Her eyes lifted towards him to watch as he slid the casual high-collared blazer off just to then gently place it over her shoulders. Caroline’s arms cross and grasp the sides of the coat, pulling it closer to her body before offering him a smile in thanks. Although his eyes seemed to be light, there was a hint of concern to be seen.

“Caroline, what aren’t you telling me?”

The words surprise her, not because he’s asking them, but because he’s asking them now. She should have felt lucky that he hadn’t asked her earlier or even within the first ten minutes she was in New Orleans.

A lot. She thinks.

When she doesn’t speak, he sighs and shifts closer to her.

“You should be aware that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I can’t very well do it if I don’t know any of the details.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I understand that these past few years haven’t been as undemanding as you’ve hoped, but you need to tell me something- anything- so that I can help you.”

Caroline contemplates just shrugging it off and telling him there’s nothing to talk about but that would be a lie. A big lie. She came to him for help, slept in his bed, and ate his food. It would have been foolish of her to think that she could take full advantage of his protection and not have to give him a detailed explanation. But, she doesn’t know exactly how to start and how to proceed. There are specifics that he doesn’t want him to know about, but if she were to leave them out, she’s sure that he is intelligent enough to put a few pieces together, or at least tell that she’s leaving a few key details out. She had two options. Either she tells the truth or she omits, telling him that she doesn’t have the courage to give him an explanation. The last option would be the easier route, but one that would most likely drive a wedge between them, thus possibly compromising their safety.

If she were younger, she would have grappled for a third option. But she was older and more mature now. Even though the prospect of what Klaus may think of her afterwards held a sizable weight over her head, she knew that she couldn’t avoid telling Klaus the truth.

“Silas isn’t just chasing me because I helped in the plan to kill him.” She breathes.

Klaus’ eyes blink in surprise, as if he’s shocked that she’s actually opening up to him. But he allows her to continue.

“When you came back to Mystic Falls, I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened with Silas. When Stefan lured Silas outside, I was left alone on the far side of the boarding house. Someone had grabbed me and I acted on instinct because I knew Damon, Elena, and Qetsiyah were in the parlor, so I assumed it was Silas.” Caroline looks away from the Original and out towards the night sky. “It turned out to be Amara.” Her eyes slowly drifted back over to him to gauge his reaction. He stood still, eyes just taking her in and processing the information that she was offering him.

“Silas’ one true love.” Her eyes hold guilt and a sadness within them as she remembers the events that occurred nearly five years ago. “She was innocent and I killed her.”

A stray tear begins to form in her eye and bubbles over, making a thin wet trail down her cheek. Klaus’ hand doesn’t move as fast as it normally does when he gently wipes the tear from her face, making sure not to make any moves that she wouldn’t be able to reject. The heat of his palm against her jaw and the pressure it holds gives her an odd sense of comfort that she wouldn’t have expected.

“I don’t know how he found out after he faked his death, but he-,” she begins to struggle to speak, the emotions beginning to take advantage of her. “He approached me in my dorm one day and I’m not sure if he planned it or not, but Tyler happened to walk in.”

Caroline lets out a small exhale to try to keep her emotions slightly underwraps but she can’t help the couple tears that escape her eyes. Turning her head away, she feels a shade of guilt run through her. “He- he killed Tyler right in front of me.” She also tried to explain how after Silas left her with his ultimatum, she had to find a place to bury Tyler and come up with a story for his absence, but she thinks she would have totally broken down if she spoke another word. It didn’t take much longer than a couple seconds before his arms had brought her closer to him and she didn’t shy away from pushing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso.

The heat radiating off of him almost felt like it began to wrap around her, comforting her in her grief. Klaus kept one arm around her back and another in the hair on the back of her head. His head craned down and he gently pressed his lips to her temple. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. She feels the most safe she has ever felt in the past two years in his arms. The sandalwood cologne fills her lungs when her nose digs deeply into his shirt, surely ruining it with her tears but she's not too worried about that right now.

After a few long moments of being wrapped up in his body, he halts the slow brushing of her hair that she had just noticed he was doing. Klaus’ head pulls away to get a better look at her and she tilts her head up to do the same.

“Come. Let’s get you inside.”

Caroline nods and lets Klaus guide her back into his bedroom. He shuts the French doors behind him and closes the cream drapes, the sounds of the city now greatly muffled by the extra barrier. Caroline walks over to the bed. Once she’s sat down, Klaus is already over by the fireplace and starting the fire. She tries to catch her breath. Although she wasn’t sobbing, she still finds it hard to regain herself. A crackle comes from the fireplace and when Klaus stands from his crouched position, she can see the small flames of the fire begin to lick at the wood inside. In no time, Klaus is right there, taking the coat from her shoulders and silently encouraging her to lay down on the bed. She pulls the soft covers over herself as Klaus’ eyes rove over her.

“Will you stay?” The words escape her lips before she can understand what she had said.

Klaus studies her for a moment but his attention is pulled towards the sliding doors that are cracked open just enough for him to see his brother. His brother’s presence now reminds him of the factions meeting they were supposed to attend tonight in light of the recent events between the witches, werewolves, and vampires, but Caroline is in a sensitive emotional position. Although he finds it surprising for her to feel comforted by him, he doesn’t feel as inadequate for the job as he would with anyone else. He decides then what he will do. New Orleans can wait. If anything, his brother is more than equipped with handling tonight’s meeting without him.

His head turns back towards Caroline. The deep blue of his eyes already indicate his answer to her and she slides to the other side of the bed to give him room. Klaus toes off his boots and just before he lays down, his eyes glance up to see the sliding door closing all the way and his brother’s footsteps retreating away.

When he’s settled onto his back, Caroline quickly tucks into his side. The move isn’t unexpected with her trying to seek a source of comfort. He slowly pulls his arm out from under her and instead wraps it around her body, placing his hand just above her hip as she buries herself into his ribcage.

Klaus lays there for a while, listening to the changes in her heart beat and studying the way it slows when she falls asleep. He only allows himself to shut his eyes when he hears his brother return an hour later, feeling more comfortable being asleep when at least one other Original is awake. He won’t take any chances with Caroline. He won’t risk losing her.

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

When Caroline wakes up that next morning, she isn’t shocked that she’s alone and the place where he had once been was vacant of his body heat. She never assumed Klaus to be the type of man to sleep in by any means being as paranoid as he usually was but it had seemed like he’d been gone for quite a while. As much as she wants to think that maybe he had some weird bout of inspiration to paint or do whatever artistic thing he prided himself with, she has the better judgement to know it was business related.

From what she could tell, he and his brother were the main one’s calling the shots in the French Quarter. Not unexpected, considering Klaus is, well, Klaus. But he has subtly mentioned from time to time whilst they were out yesterday that there was some tension between a few of the supernatural factions. Caroline imagines that it's more of a regular occurrence and something that comes with ‘ruling’ (Klaus’ words, not her’s) over the supernatural community within New Orleans. Thus, it doesn’t take a genius to understand Klaus must have a decent amount of business to conduct most of the time. She wouldn’t be all too surprised if he was out handing threats out like flyers first thing in the morning.

The mere idea that Klaus has probably been awake for at least a couple hours now prompted her to get motivated for the day. Although she didn’t directly have any plans other than possibly not getting her throat ripped out by Rebekah, she still needed to eat.

It didn’t take her long to get dressed and make her way out of Klaus’ bedroom. But when she made it to the hallway outside of Klaus’ study, she was a little torn on what she should do next. Klaus hadn’t exactly shown her around the Compound so she really only knows the way in and out of the Compound from his living quarters.

There were a few doors on each side of the hallway. She chose the route she was more familiar with and decided to start there. Fearing that she might be interfering in his family’s privacy, she only ventured into the rooms that were already open. She first found a parlor room with dark red couches and a small wet bar, next she found a very extensive library where she read a few of the titles of the books. Some were familiar and some were totally unknown to her, but she imagined that she wouldn’t know any books that were written in other languages like the French one she decided to flip open. After finding a few first editions, she thought it best to move on and keep her human, clumsy hands away from books that could be worth more than a couple thousand dollars. When exiting the library and finding the courtyard, she climbed down the stairs and got lucky when she found the kitchen.

Walking over to the fridge, she crosses her fingers that she doesn’t just see blood bags. Upon opening the fridge, she’s satisfied to find a tray of eggs, milk carton, a drawer dedicated to fruits and vegetables, a couple bottles of water, some condiments in the door slots, and a couple other assorted food items that were relatively healthy. She would do just about anything right now to satisfy her sweet tooth that she woke up with but she’s also grateful that the Mikealson’s even have food in general, so she’ll take what she can get. So, Caroline takes the grape jelly out of the door slot and then goes to search for bread. Surely if they had food in the fridge, they had to have some non-refrigerated items too, right?

Looking through a couple of the cabinets, she mentally notes which cabinet held the plates, glassware, coffee grounds, and such. She finally finds the bread and limits herself to two slices. She may be hungry but she’s also human.

Grabbing a plate and spotting the toaster conveniently placed on the counter next to the coffee machine, she places the slices of bread inside.

In that moment, she thinks of the simple weekday mornings just before school. Those so easy and simple times where she had convinced herself could be the worst for her. How wrong she was. Now, she misses those mornings where all she had to worry about was boys and if she was going to pass that week’s pop quiz. In fact, she can even say she misses the times where the worst that could happen was an unexpected visit from a particularly moody Original hybrid in which had a 50/50 percent chance of ending with a pair of toxic hybrid teeth in someone’s throat.

Now, Caroline realizes that Klaus must have either grown to enjoy watching her and her friend’s failed attempts to end his life or preferred to use ‘kid-gloves’ because if he were to kill any of her friends, he knew better than to think she’d ever forgive him. Either way, she feels somewhat lucky in an odd way that he hadn’t reacted as badly as she now knew he could have. Unlike Klaus, Silas had no attraction or reason to extend any amount of mercy towards her, which was extremely terrifying. Silas may be mortal now but he is also a very powerful witch. One that was able to keep up with her when she was still a vampire.

The ding of the toaster brings her out of her reverie. Caroline reaches into the toaster to carefully pull the slice of bread out. The front of her finger grazes the hot metal inside and she pulls it out as quickly as she can on instinct. “Damnit!” She whispers heatedly, knowing there were other vampires within the house. In the process of taking a step back as the pain still sizzles underneath her skin, she could see something in her peripheral vision. Turning her head quickly, she yelps.

“Shit!” She curses, jumping slightly in her own skin when she finds an unexpected figure in the entranceway of the kitchen.

A smirk graces his features and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

“God, you can’t do that. I can’t exactly sense when you’re creepily stalking me anymore.”

He doesn’t respond but she thinks he gets the point. Klaus walks over to her and easily deposits both slices of toast onto the plate she had out. Fishing out a butter knife from one of the drawers and opening the lid to the jam.

“I’d like to take you somewhere.” His eyes glance over to her as she watches him spread the jam over the slices of toast before placing the used knife into the stainless steel sink. He then slides the plate closer to her and walks back over to the fridge to put the jar of jam away.

Caroline takes the plate and takes a couple steps over to the island counter where a couple stools sat. She sits and takes a bite out of her toast. “Now?”

“As soon as you are ready.” He then grins at her, clearly hiding something from her. “Although, I recommend you wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

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

They’ve been in the car maybe five minutes before Caroline began to question him on where he was taking her.

“Seriously?”

His eyebrow rises and he glances towards her with lighthearted eyes that tell her he was certainly enjoying her irritation. Caroline just resorts to glaring at him but it doesn't hold nearly the same weight that it had a few years ago when she’d glare at him then and he clearly knows it. Klaus’ eyes return to the road and Caroline sighs, settling further into the leather seat of his luxury SUV.

“If you can’t tell me where we’re going, can you at least tell me something?” She asks, thinking that maybe he would want to play the ‘hint game.’

A sly smirk puts the edge of his lips up. Instead of giving into her, he decides to veer off into a different topic altogether.

“Do you recall the period of time when Alaric helped train the doppelganger in the ridiculous hope that it would somehow keep her safe from my siblings and myself?”

Caroline is a little taken aback by his question. Obviously, she remembers. Elena had once tried to get her to join her and Alaric. What surprised her about it though was that he even knew about it in the first place because Elena had thought they’d kept it all ‘hush hush’ specifically so he wouldn’t find out. Although, Caroline now thinks that he would most likely know from pulling the information out of Tyler or having a hybrid tail them once in a while. Both scenarios are equally as realistic.

The Land Rover slows and turns down a dirt path that is cascaded with tall trees. Clearly, he was taking her somewhere in the countryside.

“Yeah, but I don’t see how that’s relevant unless you plan to drag me out into the middle of the woods and kill me.” She turns her head to look at him. “Because I will put up one hell of a fight.”

His chuckle is low but not in a dark way. The blue in his eyes gets a little brighter when he parks the car at the edge of a large clearing. There’s a few fallen logs and if Caroline squints just enough, she can make out the shape of a couple makeshift tents a couple hundred yards away. She feels the Original turn towards her after shutting the car off and she looks his way.

“Trust me, sweetheart, if I were to make you my victim, I wouldn’t need to take you to the Bayou.” The tone in his voice is as casual as if he were talking about dinner plans and the smile he dotes is edging on the side of diabolical.

She raises a brow and turns away from him as she opens the passenger side door. “Because that makes me feel reassured.” Caroline knows his lips tug higher up into his cheeks, enjoying her slight sarcasm and their back-and-forth banter. Sometimes she thinks he likes making her angry, she can’t really think of a reason why, but he seems to always draw that emotion out of her at times when he doesn’t really have to.

Upon getting out, she notices he rounds the back of the car and opens the tailgate. Klaus pulls two objects out and closes the tailgate before meeting her a few paces away from the black vehicle. Her eyes widen a hair and her eyebrows rise dramatically when she sees what he took out for the back of his SUV.

He holds two long medieval looking swords, one in each hand. Stepping up to her, he readjusts his grip on one of the swords and holds it by the blade, offering it to her by the leather wrapped handle. She physically hesitates, clearly confused about what his end goal was.

Klaus seems amused by her reaction and tips his head to the side.

“Go on, it won’t bite you.”

Her eyes shift from the sword in his hands and his eyes. Slowly, she grasps the handle of the sword and Klaus lets go. Caroline struggles for a moment, the sword being heavier than she had anticipated. Not knowing what to do with it, she lets the end of it sit on the ground.

On the other hand, Klaus holds his sword by the handle and holds it out diagonally in the air.

“Strike it.” He orders.

Caroline does nothing except look at him strangely before rolling her eyes. “Seriously? You brought me out here for your own amusement? Newsflash, I’m not exactly some minion you can drag out to weird places and play ‘swords’ with.”

Klaus sighs and lowers the sword down, expertly thrusting the point into the grassy ground.

“This is no game, love. As much as I’d like to be showing you my city, I have a vested interest in your safety and to keep you protected. From what I have come to realize within the past years in residing in New Orleans, I can’t be in multiple places at once. Thus, why we are here.” His empty hand motions along as he speaks and his eyes glance around the clearing at it’s mention. “I’d like to be able to say that I will be by your side at all times, but that would simply be false. Which is why I think it is pertinent and rather of astronomically great import that you have some ability to defend yourself.”

Caroline glances down at the sword in his hand. “With a sword?” She asks with a stifled laugh, almost amused by the thought of using a sword in an actual realistic fight.

“No, but it gives you a starting place and the ability to learn how to use spare objects as weapons.”

Klaus then raises the sword again and nods. “Now, strike it.”

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

I Carry Your Heart With Me

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Valentine's Day can be hard, but not only for singles.

Word count: 2,262

Warnings: implied smut, mainly fluff, some angst.

A/N: this is my Hoelentine gift to @fandomoneshots-imagines I really hope you'll like it, have a happy Hoelentine!!! @amythedvdhoarder  @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes

A/N2: And yes, the poem by E. E. Cummings inspired this and I have to say that I got emotional writing this. The idea that inspired this fanfic though, was the song by Taylor Cruel Summer. As always let me know via ask if you want to be added to the taglist! be warned that this is not betad and errors are probably hanging out throughout this story, i take full responsibiblity!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

--

 "I don't think it'll fit." Natasha tilted her head, trying to picture Tony's sketches coming to life in the ball room.

"Of course it will!" you heard the two of them coming into the common room.

"Hear ye, hear ye! I am happy to announce that next week we will be hosting a Valentine's Day party!" at the few groans in the room he continued. "No you can't skip it, and yes you will have to get dressed up nicely."

"What if we accidently get hurt on a mission and have to miss it?" Sam quipped at Tony who was not amused.

"Girls love heroes, so if you somehow end up in that situation clean yourself up and get to the party."

"You can't just force everyone here to go to a party, what if I want to stay in?" you raised your eyebrow at Tony, you liked the plans that you had for valentines and you were kind of looking forward to it actually. You weren't the only one.

"Want to bet on it?" He joked but you knew for him it was an actual challenge. "Besides, what are you going to do instead?"

"Nothing, maybe I will watch a shitty valentines movie?" You hoped he will let this go, a shitty movie was not in your schedule but he didn't have to know that. No one did.

"You need to get laid on Valentines." He shook his head.

"We could set you up! Come on, I'll make sure he'll be a good one." Natasha was smirking at your horrified look. You shook your head before the words could come out of your mouth.

"She doesn't need to be set up with, leave her alone. If she doesn't want to go to the stupid party then she shouldn't have to." Bucky called from where he was sitting opposite you on the other sofa. You met his eye for a moment before you both looked away from each other.

"Don't be so grumpy, Frosty! Maybe we should set you up too, then you won't call my party stupid."

"All I need is peace and quiet, which is why I won't be attending the party Tony." Bucky dismissed it, shifting in his seat. You could feel his unease at the subject.

"Don't worry, I'll find you a good one. Nat and I are the best at that." Sam winked at Bucky and put his arm around Natasha who wore a smirk matching his.

"Leave him alone too. Wow the two of you are disgusting." You got up from the chair, taking the tea from the table. "Now if you'll excuse me I'll go to my room and I am going to stay there because no one is setting me up."

With a stern look at Natasha you turned and walked to your room, leaving the door unlocked.

 Trying to stifle a laugh you reached for the lamp on your nightstand and as it lit up a beautiful face of a certain supersoldier hanged mere inches from your face. Now that you could see his smile, you leaned forward to capture his lips causing him to moan.

"What took you so long?" he got into bed beside you.

"Sorry doll, I was chased around a little, had to disappear. I can't believe they want to set me up with some girl." He pulled you closer to him, chest to chest. "I don't need some gal, I already have the best gal right here with me."

"What a sap." You laughed it off, but your cheeks felt hot and you knew that he could tell. You let yourself sink into those brilliant blue eyes of his, sighing in content at finally letting the mask fall off and being able to spend time alone with your boyfriend.

"What if we told them?"

"What? Doll we can't tell them." He pouted at you. You wanted for a while now to let everyone know that you're dating but Bucky never wanted that, he insisted that it'll stay a secret.

"Bucky come on, we are almost a year together now and I don't want to spend our anniversary apart from you and at a stupid party with someone else." You leaned up a bit to look at him properly.

"But we talked about this. I want to keep this amazing thing that we have just for us, for now at least." He tried to take your chin but you pushed his hand away.

"But for how long Bucky? I don't want to keep secrets just to keep you! It's hard not being able to kiss you, hold you whenever we are anywhere public outside of our rooms. Sneaking into your bed and you sneaking into mind… it's a bit tiring." You admitted.

"I don't know for how long, but we will figure this out. It could be dangerous if people knew and- doll, I want to keep this safe. This is so private and I've never had something like this before."

You understood where he was coming from, it still tugged on your heart but you only nodded to him. Lying back down next to him, he reached over you for the lamp with a smirk on his face and he kissed you as the light went out.

 It's been a long agonizing week and you barely got to see Bucky with his sudden mission and the planning for the big party Tony was throwing. And then the big day came.

It has been one year exactly. You opened your eyes that morning, not surprised to find your bed empty but you still wished he had stayed a little bit longer. You picked up the neatly folded note from the side of your bed, smiling when you realized what it was.

Doll,

Happy one year anniversary to us! You know I'm not good with words but I still want to try and explain to you what I feel. A year ago I shared my first kiss with a beautiful gal, and now a year later I woke up to having that special gal in my arms. I never thought that I'll be able to keep you mine for this long, and while I can't spend this special day with you I am looking forward to spending every other day with you.

I love you with all my heart Doll.

-your Bucky

 Bucky still is a sweet talker, and it had you smiling like a little girl and left you a blushing mess. He liked playing with you like that, and you couldn't help but love him more for it. It didn't come easy for him to express these raw emotions but with time you found a way through and you treasured every time you get to see him like no one else ever would. Kissing the letter and closing it, you got up from the bed and went to start your day. Maybe you'll get Bucky alone in the kitchen.

The minute you got to the living room, your friends kidnapped you and kept you hostage, showing you guys that they want to set you up with, they talked about your dress and shoes and whatever else you couldn't find yourself to care about when you haven't seen Bucky yet.

A spring of butterflies gathered in your stomach when Bucky was finally there, coming back from a run. He smiled his beautiful smile at you and pointed his head to the kitchen which he was heading towards.

After he entered you made a half-assed excuse and went to the kitchen. You were smiling when you saw him there, immediately going for a hug which for your sadness didn't last long when you saw Clint and Steve were there too, and Sam was just entering. Murmuring a greeting to everyone, you made yourself coffee next to where Bucky stood.

At this point you were experts in hiding a relationship from spies and soldiers. No trying to whisper to each other when Steve was around; being cautious about what you are doing when the archer is in the room; talking as friends next to people and being affectionate when you were alone in a room which was alright since Bucky will know if someone is coming. So you enjoyed talking to him a bit now until Sam took him away from you, telling him about the girl he found for him.

Bucky noticed when you exited the room right after without saying a word. He wished he could get his friends to stop pushing the topic.

 That was how the rest of the day went, and by the time the party started you still didn't get enough time with your boyfriend leaving you with this emptiness inside of you.

Natasha and Tony introduced you to the guy they set you up with, the guy they thought could compare to your Bucky but then again no one could compare to him.

He was nice enough, his name was Nick and he was a developer at Stark industries. Trying to keep the small talk found to be difficult especially when you spotted Bucky in the crowd being introduced to a stunning looking girl, and you couldn't help the jealousy that decided to take over your mind.

The night moved on and Bucky, being the 40s gentleman that he is, danced with the lady while you could barely focus. You wanted nothing more than to throw her into the farthest wall away from Bucky.

So settling for lightly turning Nick down, you went from him straight to the bar hoping a drink or two will help. Worst anniversary ever.

In the middle of the dance floor Bucky struggled to stay far enough from the girl in front of him without offending her and making a scene. But the girl tried getting closer to him, and there were so many people around him he didn't have anywhere to go, then he saw you sitting alone at the bar crestfallen.

Seeing his girl so sad, that did it for him. He went away from the girl and knew exactly what he was doing as he walked towards the band that was playing with a look he knew belonged to the winter soldier, it did the job as the people scrambled to get out of his way until he got up on the stand and sent the singer away, pulling the microphone out of its stand.

With one breath in he started speaking.

"Everyone I need your attention, please. Cut the music." At the sharp tone of his voice all of the music stopped and the only thing heard in the big room were the whispers in the crowd. There were more people there looking at him now than he realized, but he wouldn't let himself back down now, it was too important for him. Looking out he caught you looking at him and smiled.

"Now, there's a beautiful girl here in this room tonight and she means everything to me but I was too goddamn scared of what will happen if I admitted what I am admitting right now." He never let his eyes wander from yours. "Y/N Y/L/N I love you more than anything in this world and it's been a year since I got over my fear and finally kissed you and now, now I want the whole world to know that I'm the luckiest guy in the world to be able to call you mine. I never let myself hope, aspire, or dream that I could one day find everything I wanted in a person but then I met you and you wrecked any plan I had to stray away from love.

You're my everything, my Doll," Bucky got down from the stage and walked to you until he stood in front of you and could see the emotional unshed tears your eyes held when you got out of the chair to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry it took me this long, and believe me when I say that I wanted to show you off as mine to anyone who dared to look at you, but I was scared and now it doesn't matter."

When a tear spilled out he wiped it from your cheeks and a smile spread on your face at his touch.

"I LOVE YOU." He shouted into the microphone even when his entire world now just consisted of you and only you. He repeated it again in a whisper just for good measure. "I love you and I need you to know that you're the only one for me Doll because you've got my heart in the palm of your hand and no matter how many times I'll say it it'll still not be enough to explain my feelings towards you. I love you Y/N, and I will love you until I die, and if there's life after that I'll love you then."

Not waiting anymore you threw the microphone to the side, not caring about the noise it made when you crushed your lips into Bucky's. You felt him grin into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

After the quiet there were cheers in the background but you could barely hear them over the pound of your two hearts, synchronized perfectly with each other.

"Your heart is safe with me, I'll carry it with mine." It was a promise between two lovers, a secret of just the two of them, and Bucky knew he had nothing to fear when he had her.

Tags: @callmeluna @sstanbarnes  @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes  @easygoingtheatre  @that-one-person  @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter  @wipplogg  @supraveng  @bucky-the-thigh-slayer  @ayybtch @kitkatd7  

[teawaffles]

The Adventures of John: Chapter 4, Part 1

Setting off from Piccadilly Circus, Laura walked through Trafalgar Square, then headed down the Strand and Fleet Street. Without looking left nor right, she kept moving eastward across London.

Laura seemed to have been deeply affected by something; as they tailed her from behind, Sherlock let out a small laugh.

“Ha, she is really is a kid after all. Heading straight to her destination like a fool after sensing the slightest bit of danger. And not even considering the risk of being followed like this.”

John, who was walking beside him, spoke up.

“The way you’re talking, it sounds like you know where she’s going.”

“Of course. The address Wiggins said earlier — something’s hidden there. The stray dog sneaking into the building was just an outright lie, yet she turned pale upon hearing it.”

Though John understood what had happened earlier, Sherlock’s words completely eluded his grasp.

“What on earth do you mean, Sherlock?”

At his partner's baffled expression, the detective cracked an exuberant grin. Then, while keeping up the pace, he began to explain in a low voice.

“Well then, let’s start pulling back the curtain. In order to smoke out this shadowy ring of thieves, I used Wiggins and his friends to lay a trap.”

“The Irregulars?”

“Yeah. I asked them to search the slums; but at the same time, I also instructed them to spread a certain piece of information — that the stolen goods from the arrested thieves were being kept at our apartment. As such, there was a chance the other thieves would pay us a visit to retrieve the items.”

John thought back to the jewellery sitting on the sideboard. That had looked pointless at first, but in fact, there’d been a good reason why they were there.

“To be honest, it was a gamble — even I thought there was only a fifty-fifty chance it’d work, but it was a resounding success.”

Sherlock looked at the figure of the girl up ahead, and John was incredulous. At that moment, the pair had just walked past the facade of St Paul’s Cathedral.

“You’re talking about Laura? You mean, that child is one of those thieves from the slums?”

“Don’t underestimate her just because she’s a child. However, judging from how nervous she’s been, I’d say she isn’t one of the thieves exactly; I get the feeling that she’s been forced to follow their orders.”

Hearing that, John thought back to the scene at the cafe.

When he asked Laura if she’d been hiding anything, she had frantically denied it. Placing that reaction in the perspective that she had actually been trying to hide how she was abetting the thieves, it did make sense.

However, John was starting to get confused by all the unexpected revelations, and he fired back doubts of his own.

“Sherlock: to start with, how did you know Laura’s from the underclass? From her appearance, one would think she’s from the middle class.”

“Oi oi, isn’t that obvious? Her fingers were strangely brownish, weren't they? That trait’s often seen in merchants who shell walnuts and sell them on the street.”

“……I see.”

Hearing the detective’s precise analysis, John nodded in admiration. He had first noticed that peculiarity of Laura’s at the cafe, but Sherlock had spotted it right at their first meeting, and seen through her guise straight away.

“Let’s say you’re right. But then, why did Laura disguise herself like that?”

“It’s simple: the thieves knew that I was fairly certain they hailed from the slums, so they wanted her to hide her status just in case. It’s not clear whether she bought those clothes herself, or the thieves stole them — but anyway, that disguise didn’t fool me,” he quipped. “And you should also know that the details — her cuffs, thumbs, nails, and shoelaces — were extremely important and provided a wealth of clues.”

“But even if she is from the underclass, isn’t it at least true that she came by to ask us to search for her dog?”

“That’s a natural question, but I’ll tell you later why that was a lie.”

Putting aside the truth behind her request for the time being, Sherlock continued to explain his reasoning.

“Getting back to the topic: right when I dangled the bait, that kid showed up. But at that point in time, she hadn’t come to take the stolen items by force. Together with Miss Hudson, we were three adults against a child — the difference in physical strength was obvious. As such, our opponents definitely had another plan up their sleeve.”

“A plan…… Do you mean the search for the dog?”

“Precisely. In all likelihood, it carried three meanings.”

Sherlock raised three fingers.

“First: a simple reconnaissance.”

Hearing that, John agreed right away.

“They had to confirm if it was really you looking after the stolen items, rather than the Yard; so Laura visited us on the pretext of making a request.”

“Correct. It looks like you’re starting to get it. Then, reason two: under the guise of having us search for her dog, she wanted to make us both leave the flat.”

“……Ah.”

John finally understood what Sherlock had meant earlier — and he shuddered.

“If we’d left the apartment with her, then only Miss Hudson — a lady — would’ve remained behind……”

“The thieves were probably banking on that opportunity to break into the flat. Although we’d still only be three people even if we stayed behind, it’d be smoother if there were only one woman in the house. Hence, their ruse to have us ‘search for her dog’ was genius. It’s a reasonable request, coming from a child; moreover, it’s not something on a level where you’d go to the police, so it only feels natural for her to approach a detective about it.”

“These thieves sure have a horrible way of thinking, huh……. But as I said before, these are all premised on the assumption that Laura’s request was a lie: they’re still just hypotheses.”

“And as I said, I have definite proof that it’s a lie,” Sherlock replied. “But I’ll tell you about it later……. In the end, the thieves weren’t able to achieve the two goals I mentioned. And that’s because I anticipated their motives, and turned down the request. As insurance in the event of this scenario, Laura’s visit also carried a third meaning…… Sorry to break it off halfway, but we’re almost there.”

Just as Sherlock was about to reveal the final answer, it seemed Laura was nearing her destination.

She had arrived at a set of disused, run-down warehouses along the bank of the Thames, near the Tower of London. [1] The girl looked all around her carefully, then headed deep into the silent industrial district.

Then, she stopped before an abandoned warehouse, and stood there in a daze. Apparently, some kind of excessive shock had made her mind go blank. And upon seeing it, John — who had yet to know the full picture — was also shaken.

Before the girl’s eyes, in the open space before the warehouse—— stood dozens of people, their dirty clothes lending them the appearances of vagrants. Among the group were several hooded figures, whose faces couldn’t be clearly distinguished.

Upon seeing Laura, the vagrants all moved toward her in unison. Sensing the gaze of the crowd on her, she shrank and took a step back.

“……U-Um, why is everyone here? I thought we weren’t supposed to gather here in large numbers, since the bobbies would get suspicious……”

John was presently concealed somewhere behind the girl. From the way she had spoken, it was apparent that the crowd of people was familiar to her. Furthermore, at the very least, she had done something that would draw the attention of the Yard.

At Laura’s question, a middle-aged man stepped forward from the group. And upon seeing his eyes, John felt a glimmer of recognition.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you. What the hell was that?”

The man’s tone was one of formidable menace, and Laura shrank further and further away.

“W-What’re you talking about……?”

At that vague reply, the man tutted in frustration.

“……Then I’ll explain it to you. In the evening, I came all the way here to hide the cash we recovered from that softhearted chap.”

The man stared at the warehouse behind him, as if glaring at it, then returned his gaze to Laura.

“Then when I went into town, I heard some brats saying that there were stray dogs making mischief near these warehouses. I got curious and came back. But for some reason, the others also gathered here one after another. And when I asked them, they all gave me the same story about dogs or burglars or something showing up nearby.”

“Stray dogs……”

With a start, Laura spun around. Then Sherlock stepped out of the shadows with a dignified air, and revealed himself before the crowd. John still didn’t fully understand what was going on; but for now, he placed his belongings on the ground, and went to stand beside Sherlock.

“Dr Watson, and Mr Holmes? ……Did you both follow me here?”

Her own mistake finally dawned upon her, and she paled. But in contrast, Sherlock smiled like a child whose mischief had succeeded.

“It’s about time you realised. It seems your horizons are rather narrow: you should pay more attention to what’s behind you next time.”

At his suggestion, all Laura could do was to groan inaudibly. Then, the man who’d been speaking to her spat out a curse.

“This brat, getting completely tricked like that — what useless scum.”

Sherlock’s tone became derisive.

“Oi oi, a good adult shouldn’t talk like that to a kid, y’know. Still, you got the gist of my trick, right? I got the Irregulars to follow some of the vagrants in the parks, and that’s how I identified this place. As for the remaining people I’d investigated, who seemed to be your accomplices — one by one, I made them overhear rumours that all established the idea that this place was under threat. Then, as planned: everyone got antsy and gathered here in one friendly bunch.”

Trembling, Laura asked him a question.

“That boy Wiggins from earlier: was that your doing, Mr Holmes……?”

“Exactly. But as for the rest of these guys, I didn’t think it’d succeed this brilliantly. You all got way too panicked at the smallest sense of danger. But I’ll give you credit for hiding the loot in such an old warehouse; it’s no wonder we couldn’t find them, even after searching the slums down to its corners.”

Sherlock gazed at the warehouse in admiration. Speechless, Laura just stood there, rooted to the spot, and the man gnashed his teeth in frustration.

Standing beside Sherlock, John listened to their conversation while watching the man with the sharp gaze closely. A doubt arose in his mind, and he observed the rest of the crowd standing petrified before the warehouse — when he gasped in surprise.

Among the group, was the old walnut-seller from Regent’s Park.

The other people he’d bought items from, and given money to in order to obtain more information about Laura’s dog — John also recognised their faces in the crowd.

As he stood dazed, Sherlock patted him on the shoulder and revealed the truth.

“Now you know the third meaning from before. In other words, it was as though they were trying to recover their stolen goods — they used sightings of the dog as bait, and worked together to cheat you of your money. It’s a sly trick; and considering the odds of success, just getting it to work the first two or three times would already be a big achievement. But since you’re more of a softy than they anticipated, it seems you gave them nearly every penny you had.”

“…………”

As he recalled, every time he had decided on their next destination, Laura had confirmed it in an excessively loud voice. He himself hadn’t noticed; but in all likelihood, Laura’s accomplices had been in the vicinity, and that’d been a way of communicating their next location so the group could get there ahead of time. The cash the man mentioned at the start probably referred to the large sum that had disappeared from John’s wallet.

At long last, John understood the whole picture. But more than indignation at having been tricked, to have completely fallen for that: he felt ashamed at his own idiocy.

The man before them was now cornered. Even so, he regained his composure and spoke.

“Hold on, Mr Detective. It seems you think we’ve committed theft, but that’s all a misunderstanding.”

Opposite Laura, who was standing with her head drooped, the man launched into an eloquent speech.

“It’s true that we’re all working together. But as for our relation to this place, it’s just a meeting spot in the event of an emergency. Even if you were to search that warehouse and find stolen goods inside, that would just be a coincidence. It’s all just a series of misfortunes: in the end, you have no proof that we’re the thieves.”

He emphasised that it was all a fluke, though his assertion was a little forced in terms of logic. In itself, there was no issue with the group assembling before this abandoned warehouse. Of course, the amount they’d cheated from John had all been freely given by his own hand — as long as he didn’t ask for his money back, it wasn’t as if a crime had been committed.

However, just as Sherlock had declared right before they’d arrived here, he had the ammunition to shoot down that clumsy argument. Languidly, he approached the girl; and without hesitation, he reached into her pocket.

“——Then, what’s this?”

Footnotes:

[1] This seems to be the St Katharine Docks, which are located right beside the Tower of London. They had their heyday in the early 19th century, and so were probably in decline by this point. (A London history blog)

Translator’s notes

Laura’s path across London

Here’s a rough map of her nearly six-kilometre journey:

A: Piccadilly Circus

B: Trafalgar Square

C: The Strand (a street)

D: Fleet Street

E: St Paul’s Cathedral

F: Tower of London

G: St Katharine Docks

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 14: Day Tripping

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder awakes the next morning with his face crammed into his pillow, squeaky leather couch cushions groaning, and for the first time in years he thinks maybe he should get a bed. For his own sake, of course; sofas aren’t meant for long term sleeping, and his joints aren’t getting any younger. It seems prudent to invest in a bed frame, a good mattress, maybe some nice sheets.

And hell, if a certain small redhead happens to come by…

He has a slight crick in his neck, but it fades into the background as his memory replays the night before. Pad Thai, Scully’s big blue eyes, ice cream, soft lips under the cover of branches. Requited affection at last.

He doesn’t know where they’ll go from here, but he’s eager to find out.

He waltzes into the basement office, freshly showered and shaved and wearing his least offensive tie. Scully’s already there, digging through her briefcase.

“Morning, Scully,” he says cheerily, dropping into his chair and searching her face, attempting to make eye contact.

“Morning,” she replies, not looking up.

“I had a, uh, good time last night,” he says in a low voice. “Best night I’ve had in years.”

She nods, cheeks faintly pink. “It was nice,” she says carefully.

Something’s wrong.

“Scully, are you okay?” he asks, leaning in.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she replies, exhaling softly. “But I don’t want to talk about this now.”

Disappointment and dread creep into his chest, spreading a chill like midnight frost.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks, voice suddenly small.

“No,” she clarifies, finally meeting his eyes. “I’m not, I promise. It’s just that things look different in the light of day, and I’m adjusting.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel better,” he says, worrying the end of a pencil between his teeth.

“It’s not meant to,” Scully replies. She sits down opposite him and reaches into their inbox on the desk, hauling out a stack of files. “It’s just the truth.”

They’re quiet for a long moment before she reaches out and places a hand atop his on the desk, squeezing gently before withdrawing it and returning to leafing through files.

She knows exactly how to comfort him, to communicate that things are alright, they’re alright, and that he doesn’t need to worry right now. A paragraph in the touch of a hand. Their eyes meet, and she gives him a tentative smile, causing warmth to bloom in his chest once more.

They sort through potential cases for an hour before Mulder makes a triumphant sound in his throat.

“Got one, Scully,” he announces, handing her a file. “Equine mutilations in Gettysburg. Wanna go check it out?”

Scully opens the folder and immediately frowns. “Not really, but if I say no you’ll go anyway,” she sighs, flipping through the pages. “And then when you get lost in some cave or stuck in the bottom of a well or something and are in need of a rescue, who’ll inform the local authorities? Oh god,” she says in realization. “I’m Lassie.”

“There’s a filthy joke in there somewhere, Scully-”

“-And right now’s not the time to find it,” she cuts in, giving him a patented eyebrow arch.

“Let me know when that time’ll be,” he says in a low tone. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Dead horses, Mulder,” she reminds him, waving a gruesome photo. She sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mulder’s in a great mood. The sun is out, they have a case, and he kissed Dana Scully last night. Twice. He’s actually humming as he drives, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Nothing lights you up quite like mutilated livestock, Mulder,” Scully observes, shaking her head. “What are you hoping to find? More vampires?”

“Civil War ghosts, actually,” he replies, adjusting his mirrors. “Think about it, Scully. Those wounds lacked the consistent placement and patterns we usually see in ritualistic killings, nor did they resemble animal attacks. I’ll bet if we compared the wounds with weapons and ammunition from the era, we’d get some matches.”

“To what end?” Scully asks.

“If I’m right, we’ll see some ghosts. If I’m wrong, we’ll stop some sicko from slaughtering more horses. We can’t lose.”

“Hm,” Scully replies, the brief exhalation steeped in skepticism. He knows the meaning of each little hum and sound of hers at this point.

Well obviously not all of them, he thinks, pulse quickening. But soon.

“So,” he says, cracking a sunflower seed between his teeth, “About last night.”

“It happened, if you were unsure,” she confirms. “It was real. I was there.”

“Funny,” he quips. “No, I know it happened. I just wanted to make sure you were okay that it did. You seemed a little uncomfortable when I came into the office this morning.”

Scully sighs deeply, and Mulder braces himself for a rejection he’d always feared would come.

“Mulder, yesterday I told you that I spent years repressing certain facets of how I feel about you,” she reminds him. “And only yesterday I found out that… that I don’t need to do that anymore. I’m simply adjusting. It’s all very new, and seeing you this morning in our office… you looked the same, everything looked the same, but I felt different. Frankly, it was jarring. It was like watching two planets collide; Mulder the colleague and friend, and Mulder the… the lover,” she says quietly.

Lover. The words gives him a thrill. “Am I your lover, Scully?” he asks softly.

“Well, you did kiss me twice,” she replies matter-of-factly, “So I think you’re on your way.”

“Then that makes you my lover,” he says, almost to himself. “You’re right; this does feel kind of weird.”

“Not a bad weird,” Scully clarifies. “Just… new. I think we just need practice.”

“Lots and lots of practice,” Mulder agrees, flashing her a grin.

Scully rolls her eyes, turning to look out the window as though to hide the smile creeping across her face. “Just drive, Mulder.”

They get to East Cavalry Field at half-past noon, just in time to enjoy the sights. Namely, the latest victim, a Clydesdale named Morris. The warm spring sun pours down on them and the fallen animal, illuminating the gore spilling from its lifeless body.

“Well, Mulder,” Scully says flatly, snapping on a pair of gloves, “You sure do know how to show a girl a good time.”

They drive home six and a half hours later, having gathered little new information. A musket ball, borrowed from a local museum, rolls around one of the cupholders.

“Mulder, are you sure they said you could take that thing back to DC?” Scully asks, glancing at the ball. “Why didn’t they put it in some kind of bag or envelope?”

“What are you implying?” Mulder asks, plucking the ball out of the cupholder and awkwardly tucking it into his pants pocket.

She just gives him a look.

“Civil War musket balls aren’t that rare, Scully,” he informs her. “You can buy them off history buffs for a couple bucks.”

“Mulder, my feet hurt, and I’m exhausted. At this point I don’t care anymore.” She doesn’t even bother to stifle her yawn. “And I spent the day poking around dead horses, even though I’m not a veterinarian or a munitions expert. You owe me.”

“Alright, what do you want in reparation?” he asks. I can think of a few things, but we’re not there yet…

“I don’t know. Take me out on a date,” she says flippantly. “We never do anything nice. Preferably something with no mutilated corpses.”

“Damn, that really narrows down the options,” he jokes. “But sure; we’ll go do something nice.”

“Let me know what it is ahead of time,” she adds. “So I know what to wear.”

God, she’s adorable.

“It’s a date,” he confirms, and he can feel his heart pulse.

They’re doing this for real.