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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 years ago

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Lepidopterophobia Prt. Two

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: People seemed to like that oneshot so I made a part two! Here is a link to part one if you want a refresher or something (Link). Word Count: ~11,329 (Again, holy shit. I do not know how I wrote so much. I blame the demon encounter that I forced myself to put in this fic and the totally unnecessary OC interaction lol) Hope you enjoy!

Shinobu was getting worried now. It may have been hiding behind sweet smiles and teasing words, but the worry was there nevertheless, churning deep within her like an undercurrent of a seemingly calm ocean cost.

She and (Y/n) had made it a habit to write each other at least once a week since they met about six months ago.

Such letters always made Shinobu feel extremely happy and giddy. Even the estate residents could determine when a letter came simply based on body language alone, although the melodic humming also helped on that front.

Giyuu had even witnessed the change first hand by chance one day and he admitted that it was the freakiest thing he had ever experienced. Especially when she walked past him and actually gave him a compliment before continuing to hum and glide down the hall. Giyuu did not know how to conduct himself in this Shinobu’s presence.

However this week was different, Mochi had not arrived, there was no letter. Shinobu quelled the initial disappointment and anxiety. Surely (Y/n) just had a tiring mission and fell asleep while drafting her message. It wouldn’t have been the first time after all. But when the second week was nearing its end, Shinobu was starting to crack.

She was admittedly a bit unfocused. Her honey sweet tone was still there, but her speech was sharp and clipped. She spent more time in her lab doing research well into the early hours of the morning, becoming more unkempt as another new dawn brought no news.

Aoi made sure Shinobu would eat. She also made it clear that the Hashira needed to be taking better care of herself in general as the young woman sulked her way into the infirmary.

“You’re worrying the younger girls because you look like you’ll collapse at any second and Kanao might not say it, but you’re worrying her too. You’re causing us all distress,” Aoi had told her, not pulling any punches. “(Y/n)-san would not be happy to see you like this.”

“Well, she isn’t here now, is she? She hasn’t been here since her first visit. Why should I care what makes her happy?” Shinobu’s seraphic voice laced with poison replied, an insincere smile painting her lips.

Aoi scoffed and rolled her eyes. “If only I knew, Shinobu-sama. I don’t quite understand you’re attraction to her myself. Maybe you should try writing her again.”

“I’ve already sent two letters. I’m not so desperate for attention to try for a third,” Shinobu responded rigidly. “My crow has always come back empty handed so I know someone is getting my messages. What more is there to do?”

“Didn’t she say in her last letter that demon attacks were becoming more frequent in her sector? Just give her some time. She isn’t that big of an idiot to ignore you on purpose.”

“I’m growing tired of this conversation, Aoi,” Shinobu sighed. “I’ll be going to the lab and I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“As you wish, Shinobu-sama. I’ll send someone over with your dinner later though, and you better eat it.” Aoi replied as Shinobu walked out.

Kanao came to stand by Aoi’s side and flipped her coin, heads. “I have not seen Shinobu-neesan seem so visibly upset in a long time.”

“Yes, she must really like (Y/n)-san a lot, huh?” Aoi frowned, making another bed.

Kanao flipped her coin again, but remained silent this time around.

“Well, that idiot better respond soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

***

Shinobu drowned herself in her research well into the night. Balancing equations, messing with beakers and microscopes and reading copious amounts of botany and organic chemistry texts. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the faint tapping at the door that led out onto the engawa from her lab.

The tapping persisted almost frantically as Shinobu inked down some notes until a loud squawking caused her hand to jerk across the parchment and ruin her page. She almost didn’t care though, she leapt from her chair and slid the door open with enough speed for it to clack against the stopper hard enough to echo across the garden.

She beckoned the familiar raven to take perch on her arm, cooing and lightly stroking the feathered breast of the large bird with a sincere smile and hopeful eyes.

“Good evening Mochi,” she cooed softly. “What have you and (Y/n) been up to these past few weeks?”

“(Y/n), (Y/n)!” The bird mimicked, enjoying the head scritches Shinobu was supplying him. He held a leg out toward Shinobu and she deftly untied the parchment from his leg.

“Thank you for this, rest here for awhile. I’m sure my crow wouldn’t mind sharing some snacks with you.”

Mochi cawed excitedly, flapping his way into the corner with Shinobu’s crow who seemed a bit miffed by the disturbance, but ultimately did not mind the presence of the larger bird she had come to know over the last few months.

Shinobu sat back in her writing desk and unfurled the parchment with a slight tremor running through her hands. As she began to read through the letter, concern laced through her features. (Y/n)’s tone was there. The words came off like hers, but the handwriting was unfamiliar, completely off. Each character was shaky, and stray ink splattered the parchment throughout the letter. There was no way (Y/n) actually wrote this.

The suspicious letter contained an apology for tardiness that was spun in a way that made it rather humorous and light without downplaying the seriousness of the apology, a skill Shinobu only knew (Y/n) to have mastered so well. The message continued on to talk about the high number of demons still running rampant in the area and addressed points made in Shinobu’s previous letters, but she still couldn’t get over the hand writing, it just didn’t sit right with her.

“Mochi, did (Y/n) write this?” Shinobu asked, knowing she was asking a lot of the bird to actually try to hold a conversation in a human language.

“No write, can’t write,” the bird croaked while happily eating some berries.

“Why can’t she write?” Shinobu asked, her brow wrinkled with concern.

“Forgot, can’t say, not supposed to,” the raven replied nervously.

“Mochi, what happened, is she hurt?”

Mochi shifted uncomfortably. “Healing, will be okay. Resting.”

“Is that why she didn’t reply sooner, she got hurt?” Shinobu was mostly just saying that to herself as she began eyeing one of her medicine cabinets intently. She walked over to it and opened the cabinet doors now going into full-on healer mode. “She hasn’t said anything in two weeks so it must be serious,” she turned back to the raven who jumped at the intensity of Shinobu’s gaze and attempted to hide behind the much smaller crow. “Tell me what happened Mochi. I need to know what I must bring.”

“Bring?”

“Yes, now how bad she Mochi, please focus.”

“Arms broken. Head hurts. Feverish. I worry, but she says fine.”

“Fine she says, I’ll show her fine,” Shinobu muttered as she packed the necessary materials, a vein protruding angrily from her forehead. “I need to grab some other supplies from the infirmary, don’t move a muscle.” she commanded before practically teleporting out of the lab.

Shinobu grabbed additional medicines and medical supplies, rustling about the cabinets like a tornado until Kanao came in with an inquisitive sheen to her eyes.

Still unnoticed by her adoptive sister, Kanao flipped her coin and only when she was sure of the result, she spoke.

“Nee-san, are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, Kanao,” Shinobu spun around, “I’m glad you’re still up. I’m going on a mission for a few days, maybe longer. Take care of things while I’m gone please.”

Kanao stared blankly for a moment before flipping her coin once more. Looking back up at Shinobu she asked, “Is this about (Y/n)-san?”

Shinobu faltered in her movements slightly, almost undetectable, but not to Kanao’s sharp eyes.

“How could you tell?” Shinobu smiled almost sheepishly, a faint dusting of pink coloring her cheeks. A sign she knew she had been caught.

“You never bring that much medical supplies on missions for simple demon slaying,” Kanao stated plainly. “I know you have been worried about (Y/n)-san lately. Aoi said it was only a matter of time before you took matters into your own hands.”

“I can’t get much past my smart and observant girls, can I?” Shinobu gave her usual default smile, though it looked a bit more prideful than usual. She closed up the final cabinet and secured her medicinal bag over her shoulder. When she approached Kanao she squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “Look out for each other, make sure Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo keep up with their studies as well. I’ll try to be back in two days tops, but it may take longer if (Y/n) insists on being difficult. Goodbye for now, my little sister,” Shinobu released Kanao and waited patiently as the girl looked at the coin in her hand.

“Bye Nee-san, be safe,” Kanao said after a moment. Shinobu’s smile grew especially warm when Kanao had decided to speak on her own without the aid of the coin. With one last nod, Shinobu left the infirmary with a new energy about her.

***

Shinobu ran through the trees until dawn, following after Mochi as he flew above. As much as she wanted to get there as soon as possible, the many sleepless nights over the past two weeks had taken a toll on Shinobu’s physical state. She admonished herself for being so careless. How could she take care of (Y/n) if she couldn’t even take care of herself? She called for Mochi to stop for a moment and the unusual duo took roost on one of the trees thick and gnarled branches.

“How much further?” Shinobu asked, trying to disguise a yawn hidden behind a small hand.

“Be there by midday if rest short,” the bird replied.

Shinobu nodded, drinking a bit of water and stretching before resigning herself to continue on despite her muscles’ protests.

When the sun was at its highest and hottest was when Shinobu saw the weathered home Mochi was circling over. On closer inspection she recognized the insignia of the Wisteria Houses and she couldn’t help but quietly scoff to herself.

“Oh? Hello young lady, how may I help you?”

Shinobu turned and found herself looking down at a frail old woman who was even smaller than her. Realizing she had been staring, Shinobu began to answer the patient woman.

“Good afternoon, I believe you are currently looking over the demon slayer (Y/n), is that correct?”

“(Y/n)-chan? Ah yes, poor girl. She had a rough mission awhile back, she’s lucky she was with a team that night or I’m not sure she would have made it. She’s resting now I believe, but please do come in,” the old woman replied with the sweet raspiness of someone who has lived a full life and turned back towards the house, her hands trembling as she pushed the door open. She ushered Shinobu into a chair and fixed some tea for the exhausted Hashira who graciously accepted the cup.

“It is a rare honor to have a Hashira in my home, may I ask what brings you here?”

“I’m here for (Y/n),” Shinobu answered, assuming that the old woman had simply forgotten already due to her age.

“Yes, is she training under you, a Tsuguko perhaps?”

“Ah, no. She isn’t training under me,” Shinobu denied.

“I apologize, I suppose I just don’t understand then, why a Pillar of the demon slayers is taking time out of her surely busy schedule to tend to a slayer of a lower level who isn’t even under her instruction.” the old woman questioned.

“I’m afraid that is none of your concern.” Shinobu answered with a tight lipped smile. Perhaps this old woman wasn’t as senile as she had previously believed.

“I’m sorry deary, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I saw you hopping after (Y/n)-chan’s raven and I thought you may have been the recipient of her sweetly composed letter. She asked me to write it for her you see. She had been fretting over what to say for days the poor thing,” the old woman tutted, raising her own teacup to her lips with a shaky grip.

“I see,” Shinobu nodded. “You are correct though, the letter was for me. That is how I knew that I should come.”

“That’s wonderful, Insect Hashira.” the old woman smiled.

“Hisa-san?”

Shinobu turned expectantly in the direction of the voice she hadn’t heard in months, unaware of the knowing smile the old woman was directing at her.

“Well, come with me young lady. The patient is in no shape to leave her bed,” Hisa explained motioning fo Shinobu to follow her down the hallway. Hisa approached another door and gave it a courtesy knock before sliding the door open.

“Hello (Y/n)-chan, how nice of you to join the world of the living again and look who’s here to visit you...”

Hisa made room for Shinobu to enter the room and the Hashira could feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she stepped forward.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n)’s eyes gleamed. She tried to sit up, but Shinobu glided over and pushed her back on the futon.

“Hello (Y/n), we have a lot to talk about,” Shinobu said with a smile, however the dark aura did not go unnoticed by (Y/n) as the heavily bandaged girl shifted her eyes nervously to another corner of the room.

“I’ll give you two some space. Have fun with your girlfriend, (Y/n)-chan,” Hisa waved before shutting the door behind her.

“Sh- We’re not- She’s not my girlfriend!” (Y/n) called back, clearly flustered.

“Oh my (Y/n), have you been embellishing the nature of our relationship?” Shinobu gasped, hiding a teasing smile behind her hand, feigning shock.

“No, of course not!” (Y/n) shook her head, trying to look anywhere that wasn’t Shinobu. She shook her head a bit too furiously, causing her to wince and groan.

Shinobu’s face turned serious as she inspected the bandages wrapped around (Y/n)’s head. Her arms were also tightly bound, slings kept the arms crossed firmly over (Y/n)’s stomach. Shinobu pushed (Y/n)’s hair away from her forehead to get a better look at the blood stained bandage. “When was the last time, Hisa-san was it? When was the last time she changed these bandages?”

“Um, maybe yesterday I think? I’ve been kind of out of it so I’m not totally sure.”

“Someone needs to hold these wisteria locations to higher standards if we really expect anyone to survive in their care,” Shinobu tisked, noting how the loose bandages easily came undone in her fingers.

“Hisa-san does her best, she’s really good honestly, we’ve just been dealing with a lot of demons lately so supplies are thin and more demon slayers have been coming and going than usual,” (Y/n) defended, taking a sharp intake of air when Shinobu’s fingers examined her head wound.

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it... This may sting a bit,”

(Y/n) hissed as Shinobu dabbed the head wound with a cold, wet cloth. Washing off the dried blood that was caked there so she could better see the wound. It was more like a large scrape, not a gaping wound as Shinobu had initially feared. “So, care to tell me how this all happened since you neglected to mention it in your letter?”

“Um,” (Y/n) paused to clear her throat, “I’ll try but it’s all kind of fuzzy in my mind.”

“Take your time,” Shinobu encouraged, replacing the bandage on (Y/n)’s head.

“Well, I was with an improvised squad, which isn’t uncommon, but this one guy was not having it,” (Y/n) sighed. “He was acting high and mighty all night. Talking about how the rest of us were slowing him down and just being an arrogant jerk.” (Y/n) recalled, an annoyed look upon her face.

“And how exactly is this leading up to how this all happened?” Shinobu smiled, moving to (Y/n)’s arms to get a proper look at the damage there.

“Oh trust me, he’s a major player in this mess,” (Y/n) huffed. “So anyway, we were tracking this demon, right? We followed its tracks to a cave in the side of the mountain range near a village and turns out there was a whole bunch of them in there—AGH!” (Y/n) jolted, a sharp pain caused by Shinobu yanking her left arm hard and fast, making it crack loudly. “Why the fuck did you do that!?” (Y/n) wheezed.

“Your arm wasn’t properly set. It may push your healing back a bit, but at least when your arm heals it will be in the proper position,” Shinobu explained, now moving her attention to the other arm. “Please continue your story.”

“Alright then,” (Y/n) grumbled, still feeling the bone throb under her skin, “So there was a bunch of them in the cave that came out to attack us and we were outnumbered, but they were relatively low level so it shouldn’t have been a problem. Then that arrogant jerk began using breathing techniques without any regard for the rest of us. He was using stone breathing I’m pretty sure, just one technique after the other and he caused a rockslide!” (Y/n) turned away from Shinobu and had a brief coughing fit from getting so worked up.

“Here, drink this,” Shinobu paused her re-wrapping of (Y/n)’s arms to hold a waterskin of medicated water to (Y/n)’s lips and the slayer graciously accepted, downing almost half the bag.

“Thanks,” (Y/n) sighed.

“You’re welcome,” came Shinobu’s sweet reply.

“So we were having to dodge boulders and fight the demons at the same time. One girl got her ankle slashed, ripped right through her tendon and she couldn’t get out of the way of the rockslide so I was trying to carry her away from the battle zone, but then that idiot got thrown in my direction and had the audacity to use the back of my head as a goddamn springboard to fling himself back into battle and I lost balance and fell forward face first into the dirt. The girl flew out of my arms and rolled a few yards and my arms were out in front of me. Before I could move, a boulder came in and crushed my arms,” (Y/n) explained, looking down at her newly wrapped arms.

“I think I would like to have a word or two with this slayer, is he still in this sector?” Shinobu asked calmly, a dark aura contrasting her tone.

“He is, but I’m afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear what you have to say, he was killed in the battle,” (Y/n) explained. “I didn’t see it, but that’s what Watanabe-san and I were told once we were brought back to safety,”

“Watanabe-san?”

“Oh, she was the slayer with the slashed tendon. We’ve been teamed up a few times in the past. She came here for medical attention but she had family nearby so she’s resting there.”

“She must have be grateful for your help that night, even if you ended up hurt as well, I’m sure she appreciated the effort,” Shinobu smiled as she finished whipping up a tonic for (Y/n)’s aching bones.

“She did, she offered for me to come with her to her uncle’s house but I told her I’d be fine here. I didn’t want to over burden her family.”

“You should have accepted, this place is kind of a dump,” Shinobu whispered with a conspiratorial smirk.

“Shinobu, that’s so rude!” (Y/n) whisper-yelled back at the mischievously smiling Pillar.

“Drink this, you’ll need to build up your strength before we can leave,” Shinobu commanded, pressing the lip of the cup to (Y/n)’s own.

(Y/n) nearly choked on the bitter medicine as Shinobu poured the contents down her throat. She shivered and made a disgusted noise when she finished chugging the mixture.

“That was terrible,” she wheezed, resting her head back down on the pillow.

“Don’t say that (Y/n), you’re hurting my feelings,” Shinobu mocked distress, “I worked so hard to make that for you after all.”

“I’m sorry, did I say terrible? I meant... tolerable, terrific! Thank you for helping me!” (Y/n) fretted, falling for Shinobu’s false grief.

“I’ll forgive you if you come quietly when it’s safe to move you,” she smiled, resting her palms on her knees.

“You keep saying we’re going somewhere. Where are we going? I’m not exactly in fighting shape at the moment,” (Y/n) lifted her slung and bandaged arms off of her stomach for emphasis.

“You’ll continue your recovery back at my estate of course. Did you really think I was going to leave you in this squalor?”

“I really wish you would stop insulting this place, Hisa-san works super hard and she is crazy fast and quiet so she could be anywhere!” (Y/n) shifted her eyes around the room before returning her gaze to Shinobu who seemed unbothered by the information. “I’m fine here, really. You don’t need to worry about me when you probably have more important things to do.”

“Are you questioning my discretion as a Hashira?” Shinobu’s smile grew, but failed to reach her eyes as she peered down at the slayer as if challenging her to speak against her plan again.

“No! Not at all, I just-“

“Great, we’ll leave tomorrow depending on your condition!” Shinobu clapped.

“But, the... the butterflies,” (Y/n) whispered, almost as if just speaking of them would be taken as an invitation to appear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to protect you in your vulnerable state,” Shinobu smiled more kindly, “Who knows, perhaps we could add exposure therapy to your rehabilitation training.”

“Please don’t,” (Y/n) pleaded.

“I still don’t understand why you dislike butterflies so much. Surely when given the option to fight alone against a demon moon or be in the same room as a butterfly you would pick the latter,” Shinobu cocked her head at (Y/n) who seemed to genuinely be mulling it over and the sight exasperated Shinobu. “Really, (Y/n)? Do you really need to think about it?”

“They just freak me out, okay!” (Y/n) shrugged the best she could, “They flutter around and I can never tell where they’re going! They have those long, skinny legs and creepy eyes and weird curly tongue things it’s just— ugh!” She shuddered.

Shinobu couldn’t help but laugh, making (Y/n) pout and narrow her eyes at her. Even as the tinkling laughter died down Shinobu’s soft expression remained and she allowed herself to smooth over (Y/n)’s hair before gently running a cold knuckle over the bruised skin of the girl’s cheek.

“I’ve missed your antics.” Shinobu sighed, her seraphic voice betraying how tired she was as the small statement slurred together ever so slightly.

“You seem tired, have you been sleeping well?” (Y/n) asked while basking in the attentions of the cool, calloused touch.

“You know how our work goes. I’m fine.”

A knock on the door brought the two girls out of the moment and Shinobu turned her head just as Hisa came in with two bowls of rice and vegetables. Shinobu was briefly impressed by the old woman, of whom she had not sensed an approach.

“Lunch for you two, please enjoy,” Hisa crooned as she set the tray on the low lying table nearby. “And here is bedding and a change of clothes for you should you wish for them Insect Hashira.”

Again Shinobu was a bit perplexed over the old woman’s ghostly ability. How had she not noticed the bundle of fabrics Hisa only now seemed to have carried? Perhaps she was too tired Shinobu mused, watching the old woman set up the futon for her.

“I’ll be there in just a moment to help you eat, (Y/n)-chan.” Hisa smiled as she patted the covers smooth.

“No need to trouble yourself, Hisa-san. I can take everything over from here,” Shinobu politely waved her off. “Please leave the rest of (Y/n)’s care to me.”

“If that is what you wish. Call if you require anything.” Hisa finished setting up Shinobu’s sleeping arrangements before slipping out of the room and sliding the door shut behind her.

Shinobu hummed quietly and got up to collect the food from the table, opting instead to set the tray at (Y/n)’s bedside. She lifted one of the bowls and pinched a sprout with the chopsticks and held it before (Y/n)’s face. “Say ahhhh,” She taunted playfully, waving the food before (Y/n)’s lips.

“You don’t need to feed me I can do it myself.” (Y/n) could feel her cheeks heat up as Shinobu persisted with her actions.

“What a bold faced lie, (Y/n). Or perhaps you hit your head harder than I thought? You do see how tightly I bound your arms, correct? Now open up, we don’t want to make a mess now do we?”

(Y/n) looked down at her covered arms slung snuggly over her stomach and made a soft sound of embarrassment. She turned shyly to Shinobu and received the bite, looking away bashfully as she chewed and swallowed.

“See that wasn’t so bad. Have some more, your body needs fuel to help it heal.” Shinobu spoke cheekily and raised the chopsticks again.

Shinobu continued feeding (Y/n) bite after bite until the bowl was empty. Then she replaced the used bowl with the full one waiting nearby and began eating her own lunch. She still sat by (Y/n)’s side and shared in conversation as she ate. Despite the plainness of the small meal, Shinobu felt like it was the best thing she’d eaten in a long time. Though she suspects it was as Mitsuri often told her, it’s the company with which one shares the meal that makes it taste so much better.

Shinobu’s lips curl into a small, sweet smile as she watches (Y/n)’s eyelids droop. When (Y/n) attempts to hide a yawn with her shoulder, Shinobu helps her lay back down from her reclined position. She only teasingly stroked (Y/n)’s hair three or four times before the slayer passed out. The smile grew a bit more proud as she realized (Y/n)’s total concentration breathing persisted even in her sleep. Shinobu studied the exhausted yet, peaceful expression. Drinking in the face she hadn’t seen in months, she wondered how a girl she had only met in person for a short period of time could already have such a prominent place in her mind.

Shinobu stretched her arms over her head and popped her spine, releasing a relaxed sigh as the tension escaped her back. The many nights of minimal, restless sleep had really taken a toll. She shuffled over to her own bed roll, only taking a moment to remove her blade, hairpin, and haori before slipping into the covers and succumbing to a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

It was well in to the next morning when Shinobu finally stirred. She fought with herself to sit up, a soft groan of displeasure left her mouth as she left the heat of her blanketed cocoon. She lazily scanned the room, her eyebrows knit together once her gaze landed on the empty futon a few meters away from her own. Her ear picked up the faint sounds of a struggle coming from the next room and her senses went into high alert.

Shinobu got up and grabbed her saya, a practiced hand poised over the hilt of her nichirin blade, she edged the door open with her foot and—

“Ahh!” (Y/n) squeaked and turned away from Shinobu to cover herself with her rumpled uniform top.

“Oh, (Y/n),” Shinobu laughed, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get dressed, obviously. Can you leave please?” (Y/n) asked, trying to shoo the Hashira away.

“How long have you been trying to fit your fitted sleeves over those thick bandages?” Shinobu asked instead, smirking and leaning against the door frame.

“...I don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/n) mumbled, her shoulders slouched.

Shinobu giggled and made to approach, picking up the discarded kimono that (Y/n) had worn the previous day. “Your uniform would probably make traveling more comfortable, but I really rather not have to unwrap your arms. I recommend you keep wearing this, at least until we get home.”

“But it’s not practical, what if we encounter a demon?” (Y/n) worried.

“No offense (Y/n), but no matter what you wear, you won’t be much help with a fight in your condition,” Shinobu gave a sympathetic smile as she held out the kimono and discretely eyed (Y/n)’s scar, the previous injury that had brought them together. “Of course, if you’d rather go topless who am I to judge?” She teased.

“Oh my gods, give me that!” (Y/n) took the kimono from an all too pleased Shinobu and nudged her toward the door. “It took me twenty minutes just to put on pants, sorry that I would rather not let that struggle go to waste.” (Y/n) grumped, frown deepening at Shinobu’s tinkling laughter.

“If you need any help, just ask. I’d like to leave while it’s still light out.” Shinobu called through the door.

Shinobu took her time fixing her hair and packing up her supplies, but once that was done she was pretty much ready to go. She pulled on her haori and accepted a late breakfast from Hisa and she casually taunted (Y/n) through the door as she ate.

Finally, the berated girl emerged from the separate room wearing the kimono and her haori draped over her shoulders, looking almost as exhausted as yesterday. (Y/n) loosely held onto her uniform which Shinobu took from her to pack tightly into her bag.

“Oh dear,” Shinobu tutted, “You already tired yourself out haven’t you?”

“I can still walk, despite everything else my legs somehow are fine.”

“In that case,” Shinobu reached out and pinched (Y/n)’s thigh causing the other girl to let out a surprised, slightly pained yelp.

“What was that for?” (Y/n) hissed, gingerly rubbing the sore spot through her kimono.

“For removing your slings. You could have upset the alignment of your arms.” Shinobu scolded gently as she moved to fit the slings back around (Y/n)‘s arms and neck. Once she was satisfied, she helped (Y/n) eat breakfast, which was technically lunch at this point.

Shinobu gathered the rest of (Y/n)’s meager belongings, most noticeably her nichirin blade, and hefted her bag over her shoulder. (Y/n) offered to carry it, but Shinobu refused. Once they were ready to leave, Hisa created sparks for them and wished them good fortune during their journey. Shinobu and (Y/n) thanked Hisa, bid her goodbye and headed out.

Mochi cawed joyously and flew circles around the girls as they walked through the nearby village. He was causing a scene, but (Y/n) let him have his fun. He was just excited to be out and about with his slayer again.

“(L/n)-san!”

(Y/n) stopped and turned her head, prompting Shinobu to do the same. “Oh, Watanabe-san, hi!”(Y/n) greeted the girl hunched over a crutch with a couple small children circling her. They had also stopped to stare up at the boisterous raven.

“You aren’t heading out on a mission right now are you?” Watanabe asked, worry evident as she hobbled closer. She hadn’t even acknowledged Shinobu’s presence, instead focusing her wide eyes solely on (Y/n).

“Oh no,” (Y/n) shook her head, “Just transferring health care facilities. Kochou-sama’s orders.” (Y/n) half joked, turning to the Pillar next her and finally tearing Watanabe’s eyes away from her to look over at Shinobu.

“Kochou-sama!” Watanabe gasped and bowed clumsily at the waist. “I’m sorry I hadn’t realized sooner-“

“It’s fine, your off duty. Relax.” Shinobu gave the girl a small smile. Watanabe released a relieved sigh and a polite ‘thank you’ before eagerly turning her attention back to (Y/n).

“Well, this was good timing seeing as you’re leaving already,” Watanabe chuckled nervously. “I was just coming by to thank you again for saving me that night.”

“No need to thank me,” (Y/n) replied bashfully. “We both ended up in bad shape by the end of the night. If it wasn’t for the others we wouldn’t have made it back anyway.”

“It still means a lot to me. We’ve been on quite a few missions together now and it feels good to know that I can trust you to have my back.” Watanabe explained, a small dusting of blush appearing over her cheeks caused Shinobu’s smile to subtly twitch. “And I love to have yours too of course!” She said. Then she paused a moment before trying to amend her statement, “I mean like, you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours when we’re killing demons and stuff!”

“Yeah, I got it.” (Y/n) laughed. “I’m glad.”

“Kawa-nee,” one of the young children spoke up, tugging at Watanabe’s clothes, “Is she that girl you talk about all the time? The one you think is really pre—“

“Is really pre, pre- professional and good at her job? Yes, that’s our (L/n)-san haha!” Watanabe squished the little boy’s cheeks until his lips were pouty and protruding harshly. “Little cousins, such a handful!” Despite looking horrified, she tittered and blushed, her hands still smushing the poor boy’s face.

“Can I pet your birb?” Another child asked from behind Watanabe, pointing to Mochi still screaming in the sky.

“Uh-“

“I’m afraid we need to keep moving along,” Shinobu interjected before (Y/n) could speak. “(Y/n) is already quite tired in her weakened state and I’d hate to have her traipsing around in the dark longer than necessary. Surely you understand.”

“Of course Kochou-sama, forgive us,” Watanabe ran a hand through her hair, her face beet red with a sheepish expression. “I guess this is goodbye for now, (L/n)-san. I wish you a full and speedy recovery. I hope to be fighting by your side again soon!” The girl spoke sincerely, “And you know, maybe hang out sometime...” she added quietly under her breath. It was something that clearly wasn’t meant to be heard but it didn’t escape Shinobu’s acute hearing as the Pillar fought to not roll her eyes.

“Thanks, Watanabe-san. I wish you an excellent recovery too, rest well,” (Y/n) beamed, seemingly unaware of the effect she had on her poor fellow slayer.

“Yes, goodbye now. Lovely meeting you,” Shinobu waved with one hand and placed the other at the small of (Y/n)’s back to usher her along. Even as (Y/n) got into a steady gait, Shinobu persisted with her touch and gave Watanabe a plastic smile over her shoulder before redirecting her attention to (Y/n), her fingers pressing a hint further into the fabric at (Y/n)’s back as she gently pushed her out of the small, bustling village.

***

They had traveled a few decent kilometers and the sun had passed its highest point. Mochi had finally grown tired of his circling and took a precarious perch on the slant of (Y/n)’s shoulder as she and Shinobu continued to walk through the twisted woods.

“Do tell me when you need to rest, (Y/n). I don’t wish for you to pass out on me, I’ve got enough things to carry as is.” Shinobu spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had surrounded them for awhile now.

“I’ll be fine,” (Y/n) spoke with an ill timed cough.

“Perhaps a quick break is in order after all.” Shinobu frowned, placing the back of her hand on (Y/n)’s scalding forehead she winced internally. “You’re burning up. We’re pushing too hard, rest.”

“I can keep going Shinobu, really. I don’t want to slow you down any more than I already have.”

“(Y/n), I’m out here because I want to be. There is nothing more important to me in this moment than your well-being. Now sit under this shady tree, drink some of this medicated water, and rest.” Shinobu commanded, helping (Y/n) lower herself to the ground and offering a waterskin for the girl to drink from.

“Mmm ‘kay.” (Y/n) mumbled, too tired to argue further.

Shinobu simpered at the injured slayer then stood and turned to take in her surroundings. She looked to the trees above and counted veiny offshoots of the sun illuminated greenery above, killing time until (Y/n) could travel more ground.

I’m going to need to be especially vigilant tonight.

“ShinobuShinobuShinobuShinobu!”

Shinobu whipped her head around back to (Y/n) heart racing she was by her side in an instant and cupped the quivering girl’s cheeks in her hands. Her eyes switching between (Y/n) and the surrounding environment rapidly to try to understand what could possibly have upset her so- oh.

“Shinobu!”

“I see, I see. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Shinobu released the tension she had been holding and moved to shoo away the small black butterfly that was happily perched on one of the roots of the tree. She watched as it fluttered a few meters away to the trunk of another tree before Mochi spooked it even further away. She wanted to be mad at (Y/n), to scold her for scaring so badly over something that couldn’t possibly hurt her, but instead she smiled tenderly and crouched down to sit next to the quaking girl and pulled her into a caring embrace, having (Y/n)’s head rest in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t worry. I’m watching it, just focusing on your breathing. I’m here.” Shinobu cooed as (Y/n) hid her face in Shinobu’s chest.

True to her word, Shinobu watched the insect flutter around as Mochi attempted to chase it away. She found it odd that the butterfly would continue to stick around after being repeatedly dive bombed by the bird, but she didn’t think too much of it. Shinobu shifted her position ever so carefully to get a bit more comfortable since she could tell (Y/n) had fallen asleep. Whether out of stress or just plain physical exhaustion she wasn’t quite sure, but she’d wager that both played a part.

She allowed the girl to sleep a while longer, enjoying the simplicity of this rare peaceful moment and committing it to memory. They only had a few hours of daylight left now, so Shinobu begrudgingly patted (Y/n)’s back.

“(Y/n), it’s time to start moving again.” Shinobu’s seraphic voice called out.

(Y/n) groaned and shook her sleep addled head from her position on Shinobu’s shoulder, her nose grazed the side of Shinobu’s neck as she did so.

“(Y/n), night will soon befall us. We must go. However, once we get back to the Estate, you may sleep on me all you want if that’s what you desire.”

(Y/n)’s head shot up and she fell back against the roots away from Shinobu’s flirtatiously teasing smile, feeling the heat radiating off her face increase ten fold.

“Sorry!” (Y/n) stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“No need to apologize, you looked very cute. So cuddly too,” Shinobu teased as she helped the poor girl to her feet. Before (Y/n) could reply, Shinobu pushed (Y/n) forward, her hand taking a now familiar perch over (Y/n)’s obi. “Let’s be on our way! Mochi, you can stop tormenting that butterfly now,” she spoke over her shoulder to the raven and watched him dive at the insect one last time before soaring above their heads.

“Why do you keep guiding me by the waist? I know how to get to where we’re going,” (Y/n) asked while staring warily over her shoulder at the black butterfly dodging a beam of light to continue lurking in the shaded grove.

“The forest floor is covered in gnarled roots and jagged rocks. I’d hate for you to trip and not be able to break your fall.” Shinobu explained. “Like that,” she giggled her whole arm now curled around (Y/n)’s waist as she pulled the girl back up before (Y/n)’s tripping could completely fell her. “You should really watch where you’re stepping.”

“But I need to watch the butterfly!” (Y/n) insisted, still looking back despite Shinobu’s advice.

“I’m standing right beside you.”

“What are you- oh, I see what you did there, Insect Pillar.” (Y/n) chuckled.

Shinobu continued to distract (Y/n) from her fear as they walked on. Telling (Y/n) about the last visit Tanjirou and his squad paid to the Butterfly Estate as well as an embarrassing story about Tomioka Giyuu that had both girls snickering at the poor man’s misfortune.

As dusk fell over the forest, Shinobu estimated they would make it home in a couple more hours. To travel by darkness wasn’t safe for numerous reasons, but at least they had a lovely full moon to light the way.

The conversation between the two girls naturally died off as the pinks and oranges of the sunset disappeared and night fell. It was necessary for them to stay alert of their surroundings, to be able to hear even the slightest shift in the wind beneath the near deafening songs of cicadas and crickets. Even Mochi flew high above the trees, silently searching for anything amiss.

(Y/n) shivered as a cool breeze shook the leaves of the trees and wished she could pull her haori more tightly over herself. She casually glanced to her left but soon did a double take, swiveling her whole head to the side and pausing in her footsteps. This alerted Shinobu as her hand stayed at (Y/n)’s back.

(Y/n) thought she had saw something. Something small and dark crossed the edge of her vision but whatever it was, if it was anything at all, was gone now. She turned to shake her head at Shinobu to communicate the momentary pause before they continued on the path with near silent footfalls.

They weren’t much further along when another dark shape crossed (Y/n)’s peripheral. Another chill overtook (Y/n)’s body and she could feel the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle to attention. She pursed her lips and side stepped out of Shinobu’s touch and stopped walking.

(Y/n) flickered her eyes between Shinobu’s and her blade twice. The Hashira interpreted the expression easily and poised her now free hand over the hilt of her blade as she scanned the thick woods around them. This part of the forest let in precious little light from the moon, only a few sporadic beams managed to kiss the cold earth below.

The cicadas and crickets had gone quiet.

Another particularly strong gust of howling wind rattled the leaves and pushed at the young slayers’ clothes and hair, yet still nothing emerged from the darkness. Shinobu and (Y/n) knew better than to lower their guard now however.

A few tense, painfully quiet minutes passed before (Y/n) heard it. A faint ‘fwtfwtfwt’ steadily growing in intensity. (Y/n) looked over to Shinobu who nodded in her direction. The Hashira had lowered her bag and (Y/n)’s sheathed blade to the ground in the nook between two roots of a nearby tree before withdrawing her own poison laced blade from its saya and holding it at the ready.

The noise grew louder, sounding like paper flapping rapidly in a windstorm and (Y/n) couldn’t stop the scream that shot out from her throat and escaped through Shinobu’s hastily placed finger tips that had been slapped over her lips.

Butterflies, at least a hundred if they had to guess, emerged from the darkness with the same inky black color of the one they encountered in the earlier that day.

(Y/n)’s lips quivered against Shinobu’s hand and the rest of her shook just as violently, yet her feet remained as firmly placed as a statue. Too consumed by fear to even think about bolting away.

There was nowhere to run anyway, the butterflies flew around them from all angles, more waiting just beyond the trees.

“You found my dinner have you, my lovelies?” A gravelly voice called from the darkness, followed by a sound that was like a dusty cackle mixed with a cough. “She moves rather quickly for being in such a weak state.”

A looming figure finally caught a beam of moonlight and (Y/n) wished desperately to have missed the state of such a miserable looking creature. It was a decrepit looking thing, a grotesque demon with two obscenely large, vacant compound eyes that protruded far from its face. The demon’s faded blue kimono was torn and frayed at the hem, revealing bare feet caked in dried blood and dirt. It was an old, ragged relic that paid homage to humanity long since lost.

“Ahh, there’s the damaged goods,” The demon smiled sinisterly at (Y/n), its bulbous eyes unmoving, “Just the scent of your fear alone is oh so delectable. I can’t wait to taste the rest!” the demon’s voice crackled, its neck craned to scrutinize (Y/n)’s form, a long, wire thin tongue escaped chapped lips for a moment in a poor attempt to wet them.

“Ara, what an abomination you are,” Shinobu taunted, stepping in front of (Y/n) to obscure her from the demon’s view, “You’ve really made a mess of things you know? I was going to help (Y/n) get used to butterflies but showing your repulsive form has surely driven her further into fear. I’ll have to dispose of you quickly for causing such a setback.” Shinobu spoke, her lips quirked upward in a kind of smile that somehow radiated pure anger and disgust.

“Be gone, slayer. Your blood is no good. My babies have whispered of you. They assessed you in the daylight, the girl is slowing you, leave her to me. You cannot protect her while fighting my kaleidoscope, leave her now and you’ll live to see another sun.” The demon spoke as if it was being most generous, even chivalrous, with its proposal.

“My, what ludicrous words you speak. I have half a mind to cut out your tongue over such a suggestion. My blade may not be suited for chopping heads, but for this purpose it should work just fine!” Shinobu leapt up into the trees, the sudden movement was followed by a swarm of black butterflies.

(Y/n) was breathing heavily, trying to regain total concentration with no success. She had no idea what to do. She had no way of helping Shinobu in her condition. There was nowhere to go-

“Mochi!” (Y/n) yelled out into the sky. The raven was busy avoiding a smaller swarm of demon insects, performing various swoops and dives to stay out of their way. “Lose those butterflies and go to the Estate! Get help!” The raven released a distressed caw, reluctant to leave his slayer behind, but with a few well made aerial maneuvers he spun away from the insects’ traps and flew off into the night. But not before squawking an ominous warning.

“Careful, draw much blood so sharp!”

“Blood, sharp? What-“

“Troublesome girl, by the time anyone gets here the only thing left to help with will be cleaning your entrails from the moss and roots!” The demon lurched forward, the motion encouraged (Y/n) to finally find her legs, bolting just before the demon could reach her with its gnarled claws. She could feel the displaced air from the missed swipe at her neck.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” (Y/n) must have yelled the expletive a thousand times as she stumbled away from the hungry beast, between the length of her kimono and the binding of her arms her efforts alone would surely not be enough to escape.

“Run all you like, my babies show me all. Even now I see the other human hopping amongst the branches above looking for an opening she won’t find. It’s all hopeless.”

As the demon slowed its pursuit, butterflies flanked (Y/n)’s sides as she continued to run. She made a particularly hard turn and fell forward, having just enough forethought to twist so her back hit the ground rather than her slung arms.

As she tried to bring herself back to her feet, something caught her eyes that made them blow wide open. The butterflies that had been hot on her trail had been embedded deep into the bark of the tree she had ducked behind. As she processed the information the demon drew closer in the moonlight until its shadow loomed over (Y/n) who was still struggling to get up.

“You’re mine!” The demon snarled, unfurling its whiplike tongue.

“Dance of the Bee Sting: True Flutter!” Shinobu had re-emerged from the shadows of the trees at lightning speed, her blade poised to strike deep within the demon’s back.

The demon grinned wickedly, (Y/n) could see herself reflected in its gargantuan eyes, as well as another wave of butterflies flying around her in a beeline towards Shinobu.

“Sharp!” (Y/n) finally understood, but everything was happening much too fast. “Shinobu, stop!” (Y/n) screamed.

Shinobu’s breath hitched and she changed her trajectory at the very last moment to take a forward tumble and land a few meters away from the demon’s side. She quickly burst forward once her feet made contact with the earth and less than gracefully scooped (Y/n) from the ground, half carrying her as she continued to hop away.

“I hope you had good reason for that little outburst,” Shinobu’s voice strained as she tried to maintain her grip, her arms already aching. A familiar self loathing at her lack of physical strength bubbling to the surface.

“Shinobu, the butterflies’ wings are sharp enough to slice into trees. You would have been cut into ribbons if you flew into them!” (Y/n) hastily informed. “The demon said it could see through the butterflies, so even if its not looking directly at you, if there is a butterfly tailing you it knows where you are!”

“What an annoying creature,” Shinobu huffed, as she struggled to lean (Y/n) against a large boulder to help her regain her footing. “Long range battles are less than favorable.”

“It’s only a matter of time before it catches up again, what can we do? Mochi probably hasn’t even made it to the Estate yet,” (Y/n) murmured worriedly, mind whirring as fast as possible to come up with a solution.

“You needn’t worry, (Y/n),” Shinobu brushed her fingers over (Y/n)’s jaw and tilted her head so their eyes would meet, “I merely stated that long range unfavorable, in order to kill this demon, I’ll simply have to move so fast that it won’t matter if it can see me coming and remove those pesky eyes.” She smiled.

“But Shinobu-!”

“(Y/n), I certainly hope you aren’t doubting my abilities. Perhaps in your very lax use of titles and honorifics you’ve forgotten that I hold rank over you, yes? The highest rank a demon slayer can achieve?”

“I’m very sorry, Kochou-sama! That wasn’t my intention!” (Y/n) bowed awkwardly, a nervous sweat rolling off her brow.

“I didn’t say you had to stop being informal with me, just trust that I know what I’m doing, silly girl,” Shinobu smiled affectionately at her chagrined companion before spinning gracefully on her toes to face the dark abyss that was steadily growing louder, her nichirin sword at the ready, “Now, listen carefully and do as I say...”

***

A few moments later, they were under attack once again, the butterflies descended upon them in a flurry, but they were ready.

(Y/n) and Shinobu split off, a majority of the demon bugs swarmed after Shinobu as (Y/n) clambered back to where Shinobu had discarded her bag. It was still quite a ways off and (Y/n) could only hope the demon was as slow as Shinobu believed it to be. Sure, it seemed to take pause during a few points in its chase, but it could just as easily be toying with them.

(Y/n) nearly tripped due to a shallow hole in the dirt, but was lucky enough to regain her balance and keep going despite the disruption of her forward momentum. She must have cursed her useless arms over a million times in the last ten minutes alone.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing Shinobu!” (Y/n) hissed to herself as one butterfly got to close and managed to swipe her cheek, a streak of blood mingled with stinging sweat.

Finally she saw the discarded bag and her sword which she wished desperately to be able to use. She had no time to stop and figure out how to pick the bag up so she made a little prayer that her uniform would cushion the valuable vials Shinobu said were inside and kicked the bag high into the air, managing to catch the strap in her teeth, and kept running.

(Y/n) made a large arc around another thick grouping of trees and began making her way back into Shinobu’s general area. (Y/n)’s head and heart were pounding and her vision was blurring dangerously. And that was the least of her problems. Adrenaline or no, (Y/n) was sure she was at her limit and was going to crash very soon.

“I have grown tired of this game!”

(Y/n) cried out as the demon lunged from the shadows and tackled her to the ground, it’s mouth frothing and dripping foamy saliva onto (Y/n)’s kimono. (Y/n) managed to kick the demon off and she scooted frantically backwards, watching the angry monster crawl after her with its tongue lashing at her retreating ankles.

“This wasn’t part of the plan! This wasn’t part of the plan!” (Y/n) chanted to herself as she ripped one of her arms free from its sling, wincing through the pain as she straightened it and dug through the bag while still scrambling backward.

“Uhehehe! You’re little friend is busy with a special addendum of this demon blood technique of mine. I left her with enough of my babies to make a clone of myself. There are no obvious differences to be found, she will die believing she was truly facing off with me,” the demon cackled, fully clutching onto (Y/n)’s ankle and dragging her back, “little did she know I was really here, devouring her friend!”

“Devour this, bitch!” (Y/n)’s arm withdrew from the bag with a surgical syringe in her bandaged fist and stabbed it deep into the nearest eye of the miserable creature, draining the purple liquid into the gelatinous mass.

The demon roughly pushed the girl back and released a most horrendously shrill scream into the night. It reeled back on its haunches and clutched at its face.

“What have you done to me! My eyes! My eyes!” It bellowed, its eyes had begun to deteriorate at a rapid pace, a purplish red puss leaked from its tear ducts as it blindly grasped at (Y/n)’s legs. “I’ll make you wish you were never born!”

(Y/n)’s eyes clenched shut, she had no strength left to continue fighting, everything hurt so much she couldn’t even move to defend herself any longer. She could feel the hot breath against her neck, but then the sensation was quickly replaced with that of the cool night breeze and her eyes shot open to see a pure white haori flutter against her cheek.

“Kanao-san!” (Y/n) cheered, her expression one of euphoric disbelief.

“Where did you go you slippery little worm!” The demon shrieked, ripping madly at the ground with its claws.

Kanao stopped a safe distance away from the ranting beast and laid (Y/n) onto the grass and began assessing the beyond beat up slayer before her.

“Wait, Kanao-san, the demon needs to be dealt with and we need to find Kochou-sama.” (Y/n)’s speech was hurried and a bit slurred, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to stay present in the moment and (Y/n) was trying very hard to stay lucid to update Kanao on the situation.

Kanao stared down at (Y/n) then up at the writhing demon, then back down at (Y/n). She gingerly adjusted (Y/n’s neck and head so that she was looking back at her tormentor of the night and could see what was about to take place. (Y/n)’s heart filled with relief as a familiar blur, that was truly very blurry at this point, ambushed the demon from the trees. “She’s okay...”

“Dance of the Dragonfly: Compound Eye Hexagon!” Shinobu speedily stabbed the demon multiple times, injecting it full of her poison. She was absolutely furious. Not only had the demon wasted her time with that cheap parlor trick clone, it had left (Y/n) in worse shape than Shinobu had found her in the care of the Wisteria House.

She dug her heel harshly into the demon’s ribs once she got a good look at (Y/n) as Kanao tended to her. Shinobu’s jaw set tightly and she glared darkly at the demon writhing and gasping under her foot.

“You,” Shinobu spoke lowly. “I wish I could kill you a hundred more times, but this will have to do. I’ve used my most agonizing blend of poison after all.” She waited for the demon to release one final wheeze before stepping away, crushing a wilting remnant of a demonic butterfly into ash beneath her foot as she made her way over to Kanao and an unconscious (Y/n) with a visibly pained expression.

“Thank you for your impeccable timing and diligence. When I heard that scream I thought... You got to her just in time,” Shinobu knelt down opposite Kanao, beside (Y/n), checking over the girl’s body for any injury that could not wait to be dealt with.

“Mochi was invaluable. I wouldn’t have even known to come to the forest without him. He’s guiding a couple Kakushi here as we speak,” Kanao reported as she would upon completing a mission.

“I’m glad,” Shinobu twined her idle fingers with those on (Y/n)’s left hand and closed her eyes wearily. “I’ve done nothing but put her in danger tonight. She needs to be kept in hands stronger than mine.”

Kanao hesitantly reached out and covered (Y/n) and Shinobu’s joined hands with her own, meeting her sister’s curious gaze a bit nervously. “I... I don’t think (Y/n)-san could be in more capable hands than your own, Neesan.”

“She’s right.”

Kanao and Shinobu blinked at each other before tilting their heads downward to find half open (e/c) eyes staring back up at them.

“It was a strange and clever demon, it targeted me specifically because it observed my injuries and knew I’d be easy pray. If I had been at the top of my game, or if you didn’t have to worry about me, you would have been able to take out that demon much faster. It took advantage of us, so don’t belittle yourself, please.” (Y/n) smiled warmly and weakly squeezed Shinobu’s fingers.

“You’re too kind,” Shinobu gave a small smile in return, “Don’t strain yourself now, rest.” She spoke softly, but (Y/n) continued to babble in her feverish, exhausted haze.

“I just don’t want you to be sad, you know? You work so hard and you’re so cool and smart and beautiful so, yeah, gods I’m so tired. Imma take a nap righ’ here. Night.”

“(Y/n), (Y/n)!”

“Ah!”

Mochi had swooped in from high above the trees and landed on (Y/n)’s chest with wings outstretched and proceeded to hop around her torso and cry with relief.

Shinobu gently admonished the bird, offering her arm as a more acceptable perch as (Y/n) groaned and turned in on herself.

“Kochou-sama, Tsuyuri-sama!” two Kakushi called as they emerged from the trees, one cradled (Y/n)’s sword in their arms as they made their hasty approach.

“Oh gods, you again?” One of the Kakushi griped once he caught sight of (Y/n) on the ground. “You aren’t going to fight me when I pick you up again, are you?”

(Y/n) pouted and shook her head slightly, fighting to keep consciousness despite claiming that she was going to sleep.

“Shinobu promised to keep the butterflies away, it’s fine.” She mumbled, forgoing usual formalities that she would normally use in the presence of others.

“What do butterflies have to do with anything?” the other Kakushi wondered aloud, scratching their head with the hilt of (Y/n)’s blade.

“Just ignore her, it’s been a long night and I’d like to get home,” Shinobu waved them off, trying to distract from (Y/n)’s slip of her self proclaimed, ‘most embarrassing secret’.

The gruff Kakushi picked (Y/n) up and with a little help from Kanao, got her slung over his back.

“Ugh, everything hurts. Don’t bounce so much,” (Y/n) whined, her voice muffled by the Kakushi’s back.

“Quit complaining I-“

“Do be gentle with her please,” Shinobu interjected, she gripped the Kakushi’s shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile that shook him to his very core.

“Y-yes ma’am!”

***

(Y/n) awoke several hours later. She was disoriented, but clean and warm in the comfort of the Butterfly Estate’s infirmary.

“(Y/n)-san woke up!” Kiyo exclaimed from (Y/n)’s side, startling the girl from her haze between sleep and wakefulness.

“Hey, Kiyo, how long was I out?” (Y/n) asked the small girl at her bedside who was quickly joined by Naho and Sumi scurrying over from the opposite side of the room.

“You’ve been asleep for over three days since you got back. Shinobu-sama slept a lot too. Not as much as you, but once she had you taken care of she slept almost all day!” Kiyo informed. “It’s been awhile since Shinobu-sama has slept so soundly.”

“I’m glad she’s been resting. That fight was, kind of intense to say the least,” (Y/n) shuddered just thinking about that battle. She was sure she’d be seeing long, whipping tongues, bulbous eyes and razor sharp butterflies in her nightmares from now on. She needed to become even stronger. “Has Kochou-sama said anything about when my recovery training will begin to you girls?”

“Hmmm no,” Sumi shook her head.

“She just asked to make sure you don’t leave your cot and to call for her if your condition worsened.” Naho supplied.

“You are in no shape to even think about recovery training right now.”

Everyone jumped and turned to the door, observing Shinobu as she crossed the threshold into the infirmary. The younger girls parted for Shinobu, the Hashira took ahold of (Y/n)’s chin and jaw in one hand and gently turned it this way and that to check the cuts and bruises that marred the slayer’s face. She released a quiet, satisfactory hum seeing that nothing appeared infected. As she continued her evaluation, she continued to speak, “Your body has been through a considerable amount of stress to say the least. The way I see it, you’ll be out of commission for a couple months at the very least.”

“A couple months? But—!”

“Shhh,” Shinobu adjusted her hand to cover (Y/n)’s lips and stifle her protests. “I will hear no ‘buts’ about it. This is not up for debate. Now you will not leave this bed until I have personally cleared you to do so. Have I made myself clear?” Shinobu’s eyes stare relentlessly into (Y/n)’s, almost threateningly so, as she slides her hand to rest on the bedridden slayer’s shoulder, awaiting an answer.

“Crystal clear,” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to sink further into the bed. Shinobu squeezed their shoulder gingerly before withdrawing her hand completely with a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad you understand,” Shinobu hummed approvingly. “Now, you must be hungry. Girls,” she turned to Sumi, Kiyo and Naho, “see if Aoi needs help with dinner, please.”

“Yes, Shinobu-sama!” the girls nodded vigorously, waving goodbye before disappearing out of the room and down the hall with the soft thuds of tiny feet on wood.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” Shinobu asked, directing her attention back to (Y/n).

“Hmm? Oh, I’m okay. Just, tired. Sore.” (Y/n) startled a bit, hoping it hadn’t been too obvious that she had been staring at Shinobu while the youngest girls of the estate took their leave.

“I see,” Shinobu hummed, setting herself to sit on the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” (Y/n) flexed her ankle, hitting her foot against Shinobu’s side, “I wish you would believe me when I say that.”

“It’s hard to argue the contrary. I did take you away from the Wisteria House after all. As shoddy as the building is, at least the wisteria would have kept you safe.”

(Y/n) moved to kick at Shinobu again, but the Hashira blocked the foot, leveling a warning glance at the bedridden slayer.

“You know, I was really surprised when you came.” (Y/n) admitted, turning to look out the window. She flinched when she noticed the butterfly on the other side, but kept her eyes on it, watching. “It made me really happy, actually.”

Shinobu blinked, unsure of how to proceed. She didn’t need to however as (Y/n) kept talking.

“I had been looking for an excuse to come by, to visit. I didn’t know what you’d think. I thought that you were just fine with being pen pals and me showing up would be weird, and then I thought about the butterflies and I just lost my nerve every time I thought about it. And then I got hurt again and I thought the letter I had Hisa-san write would be good enough for you, but you came to see me for yourself,” (Y/n) paused and gulped nervously, still watching the butterfly as it was joined by another.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I? I just wanted to tell you that it meant a lot that you would take time to come look after me when your so busy. Even when it got dangerous, I can’t say that I regretted it because I was just happy to be with you— Eep!”

Shinobu moved from her perch at the end of the bed to lay over (Y/n)’s body, her face hidden in (Y/n)’s neck.

“Shinobu!”

(Y/n) felt rumblings over her neck and chest growing in intensity and although it hurt, she smiled brightly as Shinobu’s laughter racked her body.

“Thank you.” Shinobu chuckled once she had reined in her laughter. “That was very sweet of you to say. Aren’t you embarrassed to speak so candidly?”

“Should I be?” (Y/n) asked, nervously. “Oh gods, I didn’t read this wrong, did I?”

Shinobu rose herself to rest on her elbow, her other hand raised to silence the girl below her before her second guessing got too out of hand and tapped her nose playfully. The action drawing (Y/n)’s up to Shinobu’s filled with mirth and warmth.

“You have nothing to worry about. Relax, don’t over exert yourself.”

“So, you...?”

“Mhmmm,” Shinobu smiled, curing a lock of (Y/n)’s hair between her fingers, “so don’t stress. After all, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other while you heal over the next few months. And then, once you heal and are able to take on missions again, maybe you won’t have to think twice about coming over for a visit, hm?”

“I- I suppose not.” (Y/n) smiled bashfully at the butterfly goddess above her.

“Shinobu-sama, you’re going to crush her!”

Shinobu and (Y/n) whipped their heads to the door where Aoi, Kanao, and three mildly concerned young girls stood with food trays in hand.

“My, I’m not that heavy am I? Choose your answer wisely,” Shinobu cocked her head playfully in (Y/n)’s direction, watching her shake her head and laugh.

“Not at all my lady. No more heavy than a blanket really.”

“Ugh, is this what I’m going to have to put up with now?” Aoi groaned and rolled her eyes, placing a tray on the nightstand beside (Y/n)’s bed while fighting the smile that threatened to tug at her lips.

Aoi watched as the younger girls cheered and giggled, crawling on to the bed to chatter on about anything that came to mind as they ate their own dinners. Even Kanao had pulled up a chair, a relaxed smile on her face. Aoi begrudgingly pulled up her own chair, basking in the warmth of the moment despite the strange seating accommodations that certainly weren’t befitting of a proper dinner.

“So annoying.”

#kny oneshots #kny x reader #demon slayer oneshots #demon slayer x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #shinobu kocho x reader

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star-killer-md · 4 years ago

Text

Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that.

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for.

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.”

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff.

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair.

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.”

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.”

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing.

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same.

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob.

Definitely not.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things.

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed.

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway.

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you.

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early.

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily.

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges.

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font.

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied.

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence.

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient.

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms.

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.”

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway.

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before.

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall.

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him.

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in.

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey.

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook.

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side.

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—”

“She’ll be busy.”

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.”

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth.

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience.

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened.

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious.

And left you seething nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was.

The quiet before the storm and all that.

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.”

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted.

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape.

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.”

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers.

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle.

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket.

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time.

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped.

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies.

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren.

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh.

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—”

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.”

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers

biting into your jaw.

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them.

“Answer.”

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control.

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear.

“Swallow.”

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice.

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement.

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin.

But it was very clear to you what he really meant.

Remember who you belong to.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet.

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.”

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him.

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there.

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock.

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either.

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure.

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.”

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside.

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you.

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.”

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire.

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length.

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours.

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock.

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him.

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth.

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him.

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure.

Oh you were so royally fucked.

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you.

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore.

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.”

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length.

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it.

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was.

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose.

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door.

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence.

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.”

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day.

Maybe that didn’t matter either.

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #mob!kylo ren #lawyer!reader #dr. b writes #requests #adcu fanfic

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ruby-whistler · 4 years ago

Note

Your c!dream post came on my dash and while I can definitely agree with the main point (torture is wrong no matter who it happens to) some of the contents of that post were a bit bothering to me.

the fact that you implied that your concerned for people who really hate c!dream and therefore see the torture as payback is really crossing a line. I really hope I misinterpreted that because it sounds like your implying that you think those people would dehumanize people in real life. That is a big assumption to make my friend, not something you can just throw around because you see someone talking bad about a character you emphasize with.

And like I said, I’m saying that while agreeing with your main point. I can say that your right about that being something we shouldn’t do while also knowing that this is about a Minecraft roleplay revolving around a character who canonically abused a 17 year old. The accusation your making is not something you should throw around. Just like people shouldn’t accuse Dream apologists who say bad stuff about c!tommy of being real life abuse apologists. There’s a huge difference about being attached to a character and saying something dumb and doing these things irl.

Also I thought we were past referring to lmanburg as colonization? I’m not sure if that’s what you were doing but That’s a real thing that effects people and not something you can just pin on a couple of white streamer men roleplaying. Someone more equipped then me can explain why they are very much not comparable at all, and why it’s bad to compare it, ill probably butcher it. I saw a good post about it somewhere.

And then onto the stuff that’s more story based and doesn’t matter as much:

- dream very much did plan to keep tommy in the prison cell for life, like I’m pretty sure he flat out said it or at least very heavily implied it during the confrontation, someone probably has a clip.

- I can agree that Sam wasn’t manipulated by dream, but he does have trauma from him, in fact it’s a big part of his arc. Dream would brag about what he did to tommy in exile, laughed in his face after killing tommy, and often screamed at him threatening to kill him as well. It affected sam greatly and is what started his spiral.

- There are other things in your post that I disagree with to some extent but honestly debating lore things isn’t what I’m here for. So we can agree to disagree. I’m not really to concerned about the lore stuff.

just like you were talking about being careful about what you are saying about c!dream because it can hurt people, I will also say to be careful in what you say about c!dream in his favor because it can also hurt people. Please do not forget he very canonically abused, murdered, and threatened to murder teenagers. That’s a touchy subject, especially because it was displayed in such a raw manner. Is he deserveing of abuse because of it? Of course not. Is he unworthy of growth or change? Of course not. Does that mean people have to forgive him or like him or sympathize with him? No. No one is morally required to sympathize with a character, as long as your not saying gross things about them. ( like claiming that they deserve torture! )

Someone saying something in the heat of the moment about a character who reminds them of their abuser does not justify calling them real life dehumanizers, or claiming they are prone to it. It’s not cool. And, I and feel like In liking c!dream (or any character who has done something really morally wrong) you have to make sure to be respectful towards people who have been in those situations. You can like a character without excusing their actions. Not saying your doing that, just a blanket statement.

Also, please take care of yourself. If seeing people criticize or say bad things about a character you like is causing you genuine distress, please take a break. I tend to hyperfixate and project and I know that sometimes it can be a really harmful thing. It helps a lot to take a deep breathe and step away for a few minutes. This is a reminder to everyone else as well to always tag crit. And to clarify, I’m not trying to like drag you through the mud for anything I disagree with in your post. Like trust me I get heat of the moment reactions and not completely thinking through everything you write down. And just blatantly not knowing that something isn’t cool to say. I just want to make sure it’s known that hey, maybe people shouldn’t say _.

If there’s anything in my post that’s wrong I apologize, I’m open to respectful criticism. And also just to finish this off, I know getting critical asks can be upsetting, so if you are genuinely made upset, angry, or anxious by this ask, please just leave it be. Don’t respond, or take a breather before you do. I’m saying this because like I said I just came across this post, I don’t know you or how you tend to react to things so I don’t want to start a huge thing. Just giving my thoughts and crit.

And also because having people yell/be really rude at me makes me very genuinely anxious! Even if it’s anon. Please keep that in mind if you respond (you don’t have to, it’s up to you) You can respond and disagree however much you like, just please don’t be a jerk about it cause I’ll probably cry lol (seriously tho like I said I’m sensitive)

Alright, so first as a quick disclaimer, I’m going to out a summary of the original post’s points, just to ensure that we’re on the same page;

The post does say:

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because it continuously hurts people who relate to and/or sympathize with him, also dehumanization in general is an inherently wrong mindset

- don’t attack people who sympathize with him because he’s a victim of abuse besides other things

The post never says:

- you cannot hate c!Dream and not sympathizing with him is wrong

- the things c!Dream has done are to any degree excused

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because he’s a good person

- people who dehumanize c!Dream are real life abuse apologists

If you read the post and didn’t get these points from it, i advise you to reread it as I made pretty much all of these abundantly clear.

I absolutely never said anything about real life abuse apologism. I continuously put (fictional) in front of things to make that point. I don’t know how you got that from the post.

Dehumanization is wrong. Dehumanization of fictional characters on a large scale to the point where people will excuse his abuse is wrong and it hurts people and I will speak out about it. It doesn’t mean people will dehumanize people irl or that they are prone to it, but it’s still wrong.

I never said L’manberg was colonization. I said some people who have had their country colonized relate to him because he had his home torn apart and is desperate to return it back to its original state. This is a completely valid reason to relate to him as it is a pretty big part of the character.

He said he would “put him in the prison”. I don’t remember him saying it would be forever, but he could’ve said that, however I’d like a clip first. He never said he would be stored in the inhumane, main cell, and it makes a lot more sense that he wouldn’t be in there 1) because Dream said it was only a security measure 2) the prisoner was supposed to be able to move around the prison.

I don’t care that the abuser was “traumatized” by the abuse victim telling him of his actions. If I was being tortured mentally and mistreated and neglected physically by a person who hates my guts for weeks I too would probably threaten him. It didn’t start his spiral. His spiral was caused by corruption and possibly hatred, not being “hurt” by c!Dream. c!Dream didn’t cause himself to be abused, that was fully c!Sam’s decision, and saying otherwise is victim blaming (not saying you did that, just putting this point out here).

I do not forget the bad things he’s done. I was there. I saw it. I hated him for it. I still sympathize with him. I still believe he deserves better. I still believe he deserves to get better. I 100% agree with the point that it’s wrong to say someone is required to feel sympathy, as long as they don’t dehumanize him and harass people who do. That was the literal point of the post.

I am one of the many c!Dream fans who get constantly triggered because of how overwhelming the dehumanization is in the community. It’s not being hypersensitive, and I really hope you’re not implying that. It’s a very real issue that should be solved so that people don’t have to “take breaks” because of it.

I don’t care if people hate him or criticize him. I genuinely couldn’t care less. He did disgusting things. I’m used to it. But it is normalized in the community to say stuff about the character that is genuinely triggering, and would be to anyone if people were saying it on a large scale about their favorite character.

Hope this didn’t come off as too aggressive, I have anxiety and I didn’t want to let my feelings bleed into this because that wouldn’t be good for me. Wish you a nice day.

#tw abuse #tw torture #abuse apologism ment #c!dream neg #(in ask)#my asks #crit anon 2 #ask to tag #long post

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jordanstrophe · 4 years ago

Text

Going Once, Going Twice, part 2

Masterlist

CW: Whump, Pet whump, Slavery, Trafficking, Manhandling, Restraints, Begging, Panic Attack, Death of a relative mentioned

Winola gently brushed through Peter’s hair, with an occasional stroke with her long nails, causing shivers to roll up his spine. He had calmed down and sat in silence, drowning in his own thoughts. He glanced down as his wrists, they were starting to get red and sore, it stung when he moved.

“It’ll go away in a few days.” He heard her say above him. She always seemed to be aware of what he was thinking.

“The auction day is always the worst, but once it’s over, it will get better.” She said, setting the brush down and pulling up a chair. She took his chin in her wrinkled hand, gently tilting it up.

“I’ll be honest. I have mixed feelings about you.” She said, her eyes piercing his. He took a shaky deep breath and closed his eyes.

Don’t cry. Don’t panic. Just breath.

“Look at me”

As commanded, he opened his eyes and looked up at her pitifully.

“You’re a return, but you don’t act like one. You had a master for how many years? Yet you act feral. Are you just scared because you’re somewhere unfamiliar and unpredictable. Is that right?” She raised an eyebrow.

He couldn’t deny it, her every word was true, as he shamefully nodded his head. “I... I didn’t think he was going to do it. He was in a bad mood at the wrong time and I broke... I broke a mug. It-It was just... It was just a cup. Or at least I thought it was.”

“You’re right. It was just a cup. But the cup didn’t get you thrown out, did it?” She asked. This time, he couldn’t bite back his sob, he was stuck in what felt like an uncontrollable emotional roller-coaster. Probably the closets he will ever get to riding one. “I just want to go home! I don’t want anything else. I-I just want to go home, please! Give me another chance!” He cried.

“Did you think like this when you were with them? Did you truly feel that way before?” She raised an eyebrow. “No... No I didn’t. But it’s better then here.” He sniffed. Winola chuckled, thumbing away the tears. “That’s fair enough. I want you to know I put you on the right side because I thought you had potential. Most Pets here sell for average, but sometimes some will spike, maybe even a bidding war. I try to pick those out before-hand just to give them some extra attention.” She smiled, gently booping his nose.

“But... But I’m a return.” He looked down at his knees in shame.

“A return that had a rough start, I think. Who knows, you might get bought by some sweet couple.” She shrugged. She took his hand in hers and inspected his nails.

“I’m going to give you a run down over what’s going to happen tonight. You’re going to be put up on stage near the end of the auction. If you get bought, you’ll be taken to processing and will most likely get chipped.” She said. She took some warm water and soap in a soft cloth, taking his chin and angling it as she gently washed his face.

"Just look pretty, and absolutely no crying.” She sternly grabbed his cheeks with both hands to force eye contact. “I’ll try...” He muttered. “That’s not good enough. No trying, no crying. That’s the only advice I can give you. I have to get the other Pet’s cleaned up, so behave for me.” She said, unbuckling one hand, and gripping his sore wrists tightly. “Aah! W-Wait!” He cried, trying to pull his wrist out of her grip. In an instant, her other hand shot a tight grasp in his hair and pulled his head back.

“Behave. I’m not unstrapping you all the way until I know you can do that. Say it to me.” She hissed. “I’ll behave!” He cried, relaxing his wrist in her grasp. She held him there for a moment, testing his patience, before letting go of his hair and unclipping his other wrist. She shackled his wrists back together in front of him, before pulling him onto his feet by his arm. He stayed true to his word and followed her back into the room and sat him in the corner, but gave him a gentle pat on the head before she left.

As rough and scary as she was, she was kind of nice about it... He felt her touch lingering in his hair, part of him missed her when she left. Now he was sitting in a dark corner pondering whatever fate he may befall at midnight.

<><>meanwhile<><>

Robert shivered in the wind, pulling his trench coat up around his face. What a complete waste of time, sitting out in the cold, dressed up waiting to go someplace he didn’t want to go. He entered the building and was immediately greeted by warmth and a champagne glass.

‘Ah! Mister McAllen!” The waiter called, handing him a glass. “Madam Winola was hoping to see you tonight. Here for business or pleasure?” He asked.

“Neither, if I’m being honest.” He chuckled, pulling his leather gloves off. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a full beard. He didn’t look like it, but he was filthy rich, but chose to dress in a well used trench coat with some slight torn gloves.

“Regardless, I’m sure the Madam appreciates your support. Just being here boosts the numbers!” He exclaimed. “Well, I owe her for helping me out. She’s a good friend.” He wandered off to mingle in the crowd. Robert McAllen wasn’t entirely welcome in the industry, as he inherited his wealth from a petty aunt who didn’t want her ungrateful spoiled offspring to get her hard earned money. So she scratched them all off the will and gave everything to Robert at the last second as a spit in the face. Robert however, appreciated a more simple life, but kept up appearance for the sake of his aunt, bless her soul. He felt like she deserved as much, but did it more out of guilt than anything.

He took his seat far in the back. He was planning to mingle on his phone, as he tried not to look at the faces of the terrified Pets that were being hauled onto the stage one by one.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this year's auction! Our first item is a new, 23 male, 6,0, bidding will start at fifty-thousand!” A woman on stage announced. Robert really tried to just focus on anything else, but curiosity got the better of him as he snuck a glance at times. Something caught his attention in the corner of his eye, as his attention spiked. Someone sitting further to the side with a bored, but serious expression on his face. He recognized him.

Winola was hanging around the curtain between the stage and the crowd. She peaked out eyeing the audience, before nervously pacing around.

“Psst! Neal!” She called. One of the tall guards walked over to her and crouched to her height. She whispered something in his ear seriously, her face sick with concern. The man listened intensely, nodding along before she shooed him off, as he disappeared backstage. She looked around the room, before she locked eyes with Peter, who was about to be dragged onto the stage.

“Wait!” She called, running over and gripped his shoulders, wrenching him to face her.

“Sweetie look at me. Listen very carefully. There’s a man out there called the Baron. He rarely appears, and always, always buys at least one. He hasn’t bought anyone yet and it’s almost over. Whatever you do, don’t get bought by the Baron. Do you understand me?” She shook him.

“W-wait... I-I I don’t understand, how do I do that?’ He pleaded.

“Madam, he’s up, now.” The guard argued.

“Just-!!!”

Before he could hear anything else, his arm was roughly grabbed and yanked out the curtain. The room was dark where the audience was seated, but the stage was a spotlight. He could feel his every heartbeat banging against his chest, he couldn’t breath, his vision was blurry. He just wanted to collapse to the floor and be swallowed up, to be taken anywhere that wasn’t here, too have anything happen that wasn’t this.

The room’s chattering quieted down as arms wrapped around his waist and he was hoisted up onto a block on the center of the room. His shackled wrists were clipped to the floor between his knees. He dared a glance up at the glint of hundreds of eyes staring up at him, judging him, measuring his worth. He couldn't do the one thing that was asked of him, as he broke down sobbing. The combination of his panic attack and crying felt like he was drowning in his own body.

“The next item on the block is a rehomed male, 21, 5,7.” A woman in a dazzling red dress rattled off, standing to the side of the block with a heavy clipboard resting in her arm and a gavel in the other behind a desk.

“Bidding will start at fifteen-thousand.” She announced.

The room fell silent.

“Eighteen.” A rough voice called.

The crowd burst into whispering, murmuring amongst each other. It was the Baron. He knew it.

When the Baron wanted something, the Baron got it.

“Oh Poor kid...” Robert thought to himself. That boy wasn’t going to survive a week with the Baron, who was ruthless and strict.

“Excuse me, Mister McAllen?” A tall man had somehow slunk his way to him without being noticed. “Erm, yes? Wait, Neal? Is that you?” Robert whispered. “Madam Winola has a request. She wants you to buy that.” He motioned to the young man on stage, who had broken into hysterical sobs. The stage was quietly laughing, and the Baron had an amused grin on his face.

Robert almost laughed himself at the ridiculous request. “You-You want me to what now?” He quietly hissed back with disbelief. “All she said was I ask on her behalf for you to buy it.” He shrugged. “Wait, Isn’t that illega-'' Before he could finish, the man had slunk away. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He looked up at the man on stage who was huddled low to the floor on his knees. He could see him shaking even from the distance he was.

‘’Twenty-thousand!” He called, nervously raising his hand. The Baron’s head snapped back at him, as Robert tried not to make eye contact. He could feel the anger radiating off him. What was he even doing? He doesn’t do Pets, but Winola always had good reasons to do things, and she was taking a huge risk asking this, so the explanation had better be good. One thing was for sure, he made a very powerful enemy this day, but who cared. If he was going to use his money for something, infuriating the Baron was a good way to use it.

“Twenty-thousand! Do I hear thirty?” The women announced.

“Thirty.” The Barron called.

“Forty-thousand!” Robert challenged. Well, too late to go back now.

“Fifty.” “Sixty-thousand!”

"Errr.. Sixty-thousand! Do I hear sixty-fi”

The Baron abruptly shot to his feet in an instant. “One-hundred thousand!” He angrily yelled at the women onstage. “Hundred thousand!? I.. Uh, do I hear hundred-te-”

“Three-hundred thousand!” Robert yelled. He didn’t even have entire meaning behind his voice, he was just shouting numbers at this point.

“We have a bidding war!” Someone shouted through the crowd, as they all laughed in unison.

Peter’s face had gone pale. Tears were pouring down his face, but he couldn’t make a sound anymore. His cries would have been drowned out by bargaining anyway. Was this even real? Was there a mistake? Was there some perfect angel Pet behind him somewhere, while he was just in the way?

“Eight-hundred thousand!” The Baron yelled, his hands in a fists, as his knuckles turned white.

The women on stage looked like she was going to have a heart attack from excitement, or confusion. Robert shrugged, this was already going down in history, so let's have a little bit more fun. He was neck deep already.

“Five million!” He called.

The room dropped dead in silence.

The Barron’s face went stone as he looked up at Robert, before slowly sitting down in defeat.

“F-Five... Million! Going once... Going twice?”

“SOLD!” She banged the gavel with a bit too much enthusiasm, there was probably a hole in the desk. Peter flinched at the sudden noise, but was frozen to anything else. It hadn't really sunken in yet, whatever just happened. He jolted once more as two hands unhooked him from the block, and took both his arms and pulled him up. This was the first time someone didn’t yank him in a direction, and walked with him gently. Except he wasn’t really walking, he was pretty much being drug off the stage.

'Ladies and gentlemen! I think we have a record tonight!" She announced.

Robert leaned back in his seat chuckling. Ohhh what had he gotten himself into.

Worth it though.

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @moose-teeth @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @alien-octopus

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

#Whump #Whumpee #Caretaker #Whump auction #I HAD TO DO SO MUCH RESEARCH FOR THIS #Whump writing #whump story #hurt comfort #pet whump #tw trafficking #auction whump #tw slavery

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themetaphorgirl · 4 years ago

Text

road trip!

inspired by this post

please enjoy seven unsupervised teenagers crammed into an SUV for a three hour trip

I might need to write a part 2 with the actual camping trip??

but right now I need a nap so badly. so, so badly. I hope you like this though!!!

----------

Hotch flipped on the lights and both boys immediately groaned, pulling their covers over their heads. “All right, everybody up, we gotta go,” he said.

Derek rubbed his eyes and held his up his phone. “It’s five in the morning, Hotch,” he complained. He dropped his phone on his face. “Dammit.”

“We want to be on the road before six, so let’s go,” he said.

Spencer sat up, his hair sticking up on the side of his head. “I just fell asleep an hour ago,” he complained. “Can I sleep a little longer?”

“You can sleep in the car,” Hotch said.

Spencer scowled. “I can’t sleep in the car.”

“You fall asleep in the car all the time. Get up.” Spencer dragged himself out of bed, rolling his eyes. “Are you guys packed? Do you need any help?”

Derek glanced around his chaotic side of the room. “Uh...I’ll get it done,” he said.

Hotch sighed. “Just hurry, okay?” he said. “We gotta go. I’m going to go check on the girls.”

He closed the door and headed for the stairs. Getting a four-day weekend for teacher in-service meant they had plenty of time on their hands, but they didn’t want to sit around on campus or go to Dave’s house again. Somehow they had decided on making the three hour drive to the Mammoth Cave national park to go camping, which had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that he was in charge of getting the four youngest kids ready to go when the sun wasn’t even up, he was kind of regretting it.

He made it down to the third floor and knocked lightly. Penelope whipped the door open. “Good morning!” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

He blinked. “Okay, that sounds only mildly creepy,” he said. “How are you guys doing?”

“Pretty good,” JJ said. She gestured towards her backpack and Penelope’s duffel bag on the floor. “We’re just about ready, I think.”

“Thank god,” Hotch said. “You’re definitely ahead of the boys.”

“You didn’t see that coming?” JJ said, grinning. “Let me guess, Derek hasn’t packed anything and Spencer’s cranky.”

“Yeah, you got it,” he said. He looked from JJ in her ballet school tank top, Nike shorts, and sneakers to Penelope. “Hey, Pen...are you sure that’s what you want to wear?”

Penelope looked down at her floral print sundress and strappy sandals, then back up at him. “Yes, why?” she asked.

He gestured at her collection of impractical accessories- hair clips shaped like pandas, chunky bead bracelets, dangly earrings. “You do know it’s going to be a three hour long car ride and then three days of camping, right?” he said.

“Yes, why?”

JJ sighed. “Don’t worry, Hotch, I’m on it,” she said. “We’ll meet you downstairs in just a little bit.”

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” Penelope demanded.

Hotch backed away. “Yeah, I’ll let you handle it,” he said.

He jogged back up the stairs and knocked on the door. “Okay, you guys, how’s it going?” he asked, opening the door without waiting for them to answer.

Derek tossed a hoodie onto his pile in the middle of the floor; he was at least out of his pajamas and dressed in a St. Thaddeus football shirt and basketball shorts. “We’re getting there,” he said. “I’m almost packed.”

Hotch looked down at the pile. “Good luck getting all of that into your bag,” he said dryly. “Where’s Spencer?”

“Shower, I think,” Derek said. “He’s packed, though.”

Hotch picked up Spencer’s backpack easily, but the duffel bag offered more resistance. “Oh my god, what does he have in here, a dead body?”

“Probably books,” Derek said.

“Does he really need this many?” Hotch asked. Derek shrugged. “All right, fine. Hopefully we can get all of this to fit between the two cars. Just hurry up, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Derek said, digging through his drawers.

Hotch stopped by his room to pick up his backpack, then carried everything down to the lobby. The girls were already there with their things; JJ had gotten Penelope to change into denim shortalls and a pink tee shirt, and her accessory collection had been reduced to a large ruffled scrunchie. “You guys ready?” Hotch asked.

JJ yawned. “Yeah,” she said. “Where’s the boys?”

“Derek’s still packing,” Hotch said. He pulled out his phone and checked the group chat. “James is in the parking lot, Dave’s almost here. Nothing from Alex or Emily, but I’m sure they’re up already.”

“Alex will be up, Emily probably snoozed her alarm six times,” Penelope said.

Something thumped down the stairs. “All right, we’re ready,” Derek called, dragging his bag down the steps. Spencer trailed behind him, his hair still damp and dripping on his NASA tee shirt.

“You’re sure?” Hotch said. “Everybody has everything? Clothes, toothbrushes, pillows, blankets? James is bringing sleeping bags and air mattresses, but everybody should have their own stuff.” He turned to Spencer. “You have your blanket?”

Spencer’s face turned as red as his shorts. “I don’t need it,” he said.

Hotch frowned. “You’re sure?” he said. “But you-”

“I don’t need it, I can sleep without it,” Spencer said, crossing his arms. “Can we go?”

“Yeah, yeah, we probably should,” Hotch said. “Let’s go, everybody grab your stuff.”

Derek sidled up to him. “I packed the kid’s blanket,” he whispered. “It’s in my bag.”

“Oh, thank god.”

The sun was just barely beginning to peek over the horizon as they made it out of Lincoln House. Hotch hoisted Spencer’s bag of books on his shoulder. It was a long walk out to the parking lot, but James and Dave were both there, their cars parked next to each other. “Hey, y’all,” James called. “Who’s ready for a three-hour drive?”

Dave groaned. “Not me,” he said.

“I have my license, you can let me drive,” Hotch said.

“You’ve only had your license for six months,” Dave said, patting the hood of his brand new Honda Pilot protectively. “She needs someone more experienced for a long haul. Maybe James will let you drive his shitbucket.”

“She’s not a shitbucket, she’s just...well loved,” James protested. “Besides, she’s got some...quirks. Really, nobody but me should be driving her.” He jiggled the latch of the hatchback and opened the trunk; his Nissan Versa was jam-packed with camping equipment and igloo coolers. “All right, toss your stuff in!”

“It’s nice of your parents to let us borrow all their camping stuff,” Penelope said.

James took her bag. “Yeah, we’ve gone camping every summer for as long as I can remember,” he said. “Hope you guys are ready for this. I’m not too sure how Dave is going handle it.”

“I’ll be fine!” Dave said. He jabbed his thumb towards Alex and Emily as they crossed the parking lot towards them. “I’d be more worried about ‘poor little rich girl Prentiss’ over there.”

“What about me?” Emily asked. She wasn’t wearing her usual eyeliner and she’d traded her Docs for more sensible sneakers, but she still wore artfully ripped jeans and a red plaid flannel tossed over her black tank top.

“Nothing,” Dave said quickly. “You guys ready?”

Alex handed over her bag; she’d swapped her usual librarian dresses for a sleeveless button up top tied at the waist, shorts, and hiking boots. “Definitely ready,” she said. “Have we decided who’s riding where?”

“Well, James and I are driving,” Dave said. “I claim Hotch as my copilot, you should be James’s.”

Alex shrugged. “Fine with me,” she said. “So everyone else is going with you?”

“I’m not sitting in the back middle!” JJ said, immediately tapping her finger to her nose.

“Nose goes!” Penelope said, and Emily and Derek copied her. “Ha! Spencer’s backseat middle.”

Spencer blinked. “Wait, I zoned out for a second,” he said. “What happened?”

“JJ and I went first, so we get the captain seats,” Penelope explained. “You’re sitting in the back with Derek and Emily, and you have to sit in the middle.”

“What? No!” he protested. “I want to ride with James and Alex.”

“No, there’s not enough room!” Emily said quickly. “And you’re the littlest and the youngest, anyway, you have to sit in the middle.”

Spencer scowled. “That’s not fair, we should do it again,” he said. “I don’t want to sit in the back middle.”

“Too late, caro, you lost,” Dave said. “Maybe you can ride somewhere else on the way home.”

Alex cupped his chin in her hand and kissed his cheek. “Three hours isn’t that bad,” she said. “Read your books and take a nap.” He scowled.

“All right, come on, everybody, let’s go, let’s go, it’s past six already,” Hotch said. “Get in the car, we gotta go.”

They piled into Dave’s car, squishing Spencer between Derek and Emily in the back. “I don’t understand why I can’t ride with James and Alex,” he said. “I could have fit.”

JJ twisted around in her seat. “We need them to spend some time alone,” she explained.

“Why?”

“Aren’t you tired of watching James pine after her?” Emily said.

“Pine?”

“He’s had a crush on her for three and a half years and he’s yet to make a move,” Penelope said. “I made him an extremely romantic Spotify playlist. I hope it works.”

“Wait, James has a crush on Alex?” Spencer said. Derek shook his head.

Dave backed out of his parking space. “All right, once we get to Auden’s Ridge we’ll stop and get gas,” he said.

“And snacks?” Penelope asked hopefully.

“And snacks,” Dave said. “But after that we’ll drive straight through to Mammoth Cave. I don’t believe in stops.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that will happen,” Hotch said. “Have you met these kids?”

Dave tossed him his phone. “Just plug in the address to GPS and turn on the music, copilot,” he said.

The thirty-minute drive to town usually seemed long, but for once it went by quickly and Dave pulled up to a pump at the gas station. “Remember, we’re going to get actual food once we get the campsite set up and we can stop in town,” Hotch reminded them. “So don’t go too crazy.”

“Hotch, why are you even trying, you know they’re all going to buy their respective body weights in junk food,” Dave sighed.

Hotch sighed. “I know,” he said.

He tried to stay fairly sensible with his choices, but the other kids returned to the car laden down with snacks. “Oh my god,” Dave said. “Listen, if you guys spill anything, I will murder you. I will.”

“Relax, spaghetti grandpa, it’ll be fine,” Penelope said as she plunked down in her captain’s chair and cracked her drink open. “We’re all very well-behaved.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Penelope,” he said. “Is that a Red Bull?”

She raised the can to her lips, regarding him over the rim. “Maybe,” she said, and she took a big swig.

“Oh, god, we’re all going to die,” Dave said. “Jennifer. If you get Cheeto dust anywhere, I will end you.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise!”

Spencer struggled with the cap of his chocolate milk. “Can somebody open this for me?” he said.

Derek opened it easily and handed it back. “There you go, noodle arms.”

“Hey!”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guys, we haven’t even gotten back on the road yet,” he said.

“It’s gonna be a long trip,” Dave said. “All right, everybody, buckle up.”

The first hour passed by without incident, and Hotch was just starting to think that maybe this trip wouldn’t be so terrible when Emily leaned around JJ’s seat. “Hey, when are we stopping?” she asked.

“In an hour and forty-eight minutes, when we make it to the campsite,” Dave said, glancing at the GPS. “Why?”

“I have to pee,” she said.

“Ask Hotch.”

“Hotch, I have to pee, can we stop?” Emily asked.

“We just stopped, Prentiss,” he said.

“I didn’t have to pee then,” she protested.

Spencer nudged her shoulder. “I’m trying to read and you’re covering the pages,” he complained.

Emily leaned farther. “Please can we stop?” she pressed.

“Maybe in a little bit,” Hotch said. “Just stop bothering Spencer.” Emily sat back with a scowl.

Derek wadded up his wrappers. “I wouldn’t mind stopping,” he said. “I’m out of snacks.”

“Jesus, Morgan,” Hotch said. “You ate all of that?”

“Yeah, and I’m still hungry,” he said.

“His trash is everywhere,” Spencer announced.

Derek thwacked his arm. “Don’t tattle!”

“I’m not tattling! I’m stating facts!”

“Stating facts just to get me in trouble!”

JJ glanced back. “No, Spencer’s right, it’s like a dumpster back here,” she said.

“Clean it up!” Dave said.

Hotch twisted around in his seat. “Penelope, can you stop kicking the back of my seat?” he said.

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I have to move. My legs just keep shaking and I can’t stop it, I just have to move or I might possibly exploded.”

“This is why you can’t drink Red Bulls in the car,” Hotch said.

“Or ever,” JJ added. Emily stretched out and propped up her right foot on her armrest; JJ pushed it off. “Quit it, Emily.”

“I’m squished back here with Spencer and his entire library, let me stretch!”

“It’s my armrest!” Emily stomped on the base of JJ’s seatbelt; JJ let out a piercing pterodactyl screech. “Prentiss, what the fuck!” she screamed.

“Cut it out!” Hotch bellowed.

They fell silent. Penelope’s leg stilled. Spencer turned a page.

“Dave’s trying to drive, stop screaming,” Hotch said. “Emily, leave JJ alone. JJ, no more dinosaur noises. Derek, pick up your trash, Penelope, stop kicking me. Spencer...you’re fine, just read your book.”

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. It was peaceful again, quiet except for Dave’s road trip playlist. Maybe now the kids would fall asleep until they made it to the campground.

“Hey, can we turn the air up?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, it’s a little warm in here,” Derek added.

Dave fiddled with the dials. “Yeah, we can turn it up a little,” he said. “That better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Spencer frowned. “I’m cold,” he said.

“How can you be cold? You’re squished in between us?” Emily said.

“I’m always cold,” Spencer said. “And there’s a vent right above my head. Can we turn it down?”

“See, now you wish you had your blanket,” Derek grinned.

Spencer turned red. “I don’t need my blanket,” he grumbled.

“You can cuddle with me,” Emily said, throwing her arm around his shoulders.

He pushed her arm away. “I don’t want to cuddle!” he said. “I’ll just freeze to death and read my book, okay?”

“How does someone so little get so angry?” Emily said.

“I’m not angry! I am stressed!” Spencer said.

“Stressed about what?” Derek asked.

“I’m sitting in the middle of your dumpster pile, and Prentiss is trying to cuddle me, and I’m very tired and I just want to read my book in peace!” Spencer said. “And you guys are squishing me!”

“Prentiss, Morgan, stop pestering him,” Hotch said.

“If you guys don’t stop, I swear to god, I will turn this car around,” Dave said.

Penelope abruptly popped her seat back, leaning directly into Derek’s lap. “What are you doing?” he said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just got really carsick all of a sudden…”

“Okay, nobody is getting carsick in the new car,” Dave said. “Emily has to pee, Derek’s hungry, Penelope’s going to puke...Hotchner, text Alex and see if we can stop at a McDonalds or something.”

“Yeah!” Derek cheered.

“All right, all right, I’ll text her,” Hotch said. He glanced in the rearview mirror; Penelope’s eyes were closed but the rest of the kids seemed happy, except-

“Hey, Spence, what’s with the face?”

Spencer scowled. “I ran out of books,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“All of them?”

“Yeah, I miscalculated how long it would take to get through all of them,” he said.

“Well, maybe you can sleep the rest of the way,” Hotch said.

“Yeah, then maybe you won’t be so grumpy,” Emily said.

“I’m not grumpy!”

Hotch checked his phone. “Yeah, James and Alex said they’re good to stop,” he said. “There’s a McDonalds coming up at the next exit.”

“Thank god, I need to get out of this car,” Penelope said fervently. “I’d be fine if it just wasn’t moving.”

James and Alex were already parked and waiting beside the car when they caught up. “How’s it going?” James asked.

“You try shoving seven teenagers into an SUV,” Dave said. “Well, six teenagers and a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Spencer objected.

Alex laughed. “That bad, huh?” she said.

“Hotch used the dad voice on us,” JJ reported.

“Oh, so it’s really bad.”

“Okay, you guys, stop,” Hotch said. “Let’s just go eat so we can get back in the car, okay?”

He was being optimistic, but he should have bargained on them taking their time ordering, he knew what he was getting into. Penelope had to be talked into ordering a Sprite to settle her stomach, Derek had to be talked out of getting a third breakfast sandwich, JJ tried to order six hashbrowns and nothing else, and Alex stopped Spencer from buying coffee and got him a hot chocolate instead.

Hotch settled for a hot coffee and an egg McMuffin and ate mostly in tired silence. “We don’t have too much longer to go,” James said, gathering up wrappers and empty cups and piling them onto a tray. “Hour and a half, maybe?”

“Yeah, and then we get to set up a tent and stay outside for three days,” Dave said. “I may have overestimated this trip.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun,” Alex said. “You guys will like camping. And this isn’t even really roughing it, they have real bathrooms at the campground.”

“I draw the line at shitting in the woods,” Dave said dryly. He checked his watch. “All right, kids, we should get back on the road. Emily- you better pee again, because I’m not stopping anymore.”

“All right, all right, I heard you,” she said, getting up from the table. “Come on, Garcia, if you’re going to puke, now’s the time.”

“No, I’m okay,” Penelope said. “But I’m never drinking Red Bull in a car again. Ever.”

“Thank god,” Hotch said.

“Alex, do you have any books I could borrow?” Spencer asked. “I finished mine.”

“I’m afraid not, darling,” she said. “You really read all of yours already?” He nodded. “Ah, you miscalculated.”

James fished his phone out of his pocket. “Here, you can borrow this,” he said. “We’re using Alex’s phone for the GPS and music so I’m not using mine. Play games or something?”

“Games?” he repeated skeptically.

Penelope snatched it out of his hand. “Not to worry, I know just the one,” she said. “James, can I download him something? Don’t worry, it’s a free one.”

“Yeah, go for it,” he said.

Hotch picked Spencer up out of his chair and set him on his feet. “What was that for?” he complained.

“You weren’t moving, and we need to get back on the road,” he said. He brushed Spencer’s hair off his forehead. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “An hour and a half, two hours maybe?”

“Jesus, no wonder you’re in such a bad mood today,” Hotch said. He caught Derek’s eye; Derek shot him a thumbs up back. He propelled Spencer forward. “Come on, let’s go.”

They got back into the car slowly this time, everyone full and a little sleepy. Spencer climbed into his middle seat without an argument, James’s phone clutched in his hand. “You really need to try to take a nap,” Hotch told him. “You can’t function on two hours of sleep.” Spencer sighed and his lower lip dropped in a pout, but he didn’t say anything.

Derek tossed Spencer’s favorite blanket at him. “Since you said you were cold,” he said.

He brightened. “You packed it anyway?”

“Hell yeah I did,” Derek said. “I know you think it’s babyish, but seriously, kid, nobody cares. We care more about you being in a bad mood from not sleeping.”

Spencer hesitated, then accepted the soft ivory blanket, hugging it to his chest. Derek climbed up into the seat beside him and buckled his seatbelt.

Penelope leaned forward in her seat. “Dave, can we please play something a little more exciting?” she wheedled. “I made you a showtunes playlist.”

“Please, no,” Dave said as he navigated the car back onto the interstate.

“I worked so hard to make it!” she said.

“Let her listen to it at least for a while,” Hotch said. “I mean...she did work hard to make it.”

Dave sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you’re not allowed to sing along.”

She sang along, loudly and with great passion.

Luckily, the chaos in the car had begun to settle. Spencer played games on James’s phone, frowning in concentration, while Derek put on his headphones and Emily leaned her head back to take a nap. JJ just stared sleepily out the window, watching the hills roll by.

It was just past eleven when they pulled into the campsite behind James’s hatchback; the backseat occupations had begun to perk up, although Penelope was still singing along to the Hamilton cast recording. “All right, everybody, we’re here,” Hotch said. “Who’s ready to put up tents?”

“Not Spencer,” Derek said. The youngest of their group was fast asleep, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder, his blanket clutched his his chest and James’s phone threatening to slip from his grip. Derek gave him a gentle nudge and pried the phone from his hand. “Hey, pretty boy, we made it.”

“Don’t wake him up,” Hotch warned.

“Okay, but I have to get out of the car too,” Emily said.

Hotch beckoned Alex over. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Can you get him?”

Alex peeked into the backseat. “Oh, no,” she smiled. “Okay, Derek, you get out first. Try not to- oh, never mind.”

Derek jostled him on his way out of the car and Spencer raised his head, blinking sleepily. “Sorry, pretty boy,” he said.

Alex leaned towards him. “Hi, we made it,” she said softly. “Do you want to get out of the car? You can go right back to sleep.”

He nodded, unclicking the seatbelt and climbing over to her with a barely concealed yawn. Hotch helped him out and he wrapped his arms around Alex’s neck, allowing her to pick him up. “Oh, baby, it’s okay,” she said, rubbing his back as he mumbled sleepily into her shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m tired too, does this get me out of setting up the tent?” Emily asked.

“Absolutely not,” Hotch said. “Get out of the car.”

“I want someone to carry me and tell me I can take a nap.”

“Prentiss, I swear to god. Get out of the car.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #caitlin writes things #au: patron saint of lost causes #david rossi #aaron hotchner #james blake #alex blake #jj jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #spencer is just a grumpy baby who needs a nap

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fanficshiddles · 4 years ago

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Trust, Chapter 10

As the weeks went by, everyone was surprised that Loki was actually behaving himself. Well, in regards to not killing anyone anyway.

He was having plenty of fun causing mischief and playing pranks on everyone. Darcy joined in a few, actually enjoying her days for a change.

Sure, he could be annoying too, but she could be too. And she enjoyed his company. And everyone else didn’t fail to notice he seemed to like her more than anyone else. She was able to poke or whack him without getting more than a glare. But when someone else tried that, oh boy…

‘Move out the way, reindeer games.’ Stark shoved past Loki, but barely made it a few steps away from him before he was blasted into the nearest wall for daring to touch him.

It nearly caused a huge fight, but Steve managed to calm Tony down while Darcy was able to drag Loki away.

That same evening the team had managed to persuade Loki and Darcy to join them all to watch a film. Even if they had been reluctant to invite Darcy because she always spoke through films.

‘What the fuck is she doing? She can’t even run properly… There, I told you she was going to get killed from the start!’

‘Who the heck would walk into a dark room and NOT turn on the lights?’

‘Oh no, they better not hurt the dog! Anyone but the dog!’

‘Well of course that idiot was going to die. He was reckless and stupid!’

Loki found it amusing, especially because everyone else looked extremely pissed off whenever she opened her mouth.

Once it was over, Darcy stood up and stretched. ‘Right, I’m off for something to eat before bed. You coming, Loks? Or staying here?’ She asked, knowing he had to either go with her or stay with the team.

‘I’ll stay here for a bit.’ Loki said, not moving from the sofa.

‘Alright. Catch you in the morning. Night everyone!’ She ruffled Loki’s hair to annoy him before heading off, earning a scowl from him but nothing more.

Tony looked at Natasha and Clint with a what the fuck? look on his face. ‘Did she seriously just mess up his hair and actually not get murdered for it?’ He said, making them laugh.

‘Pssst, Darcy.’

Darcy groaned and whacked at the hand that was tapping her arm.

‘Darcy!’

She opened her eyes and glared up at the interruption of her sleep. It was Loki, looming over her.

‘Jesus, Loki. What do you want? Why are you in my room?’ She frowned and looked around confused.

‘I’m bored.’

‘So? What do you want me to do about it?’

‘You’re my supposed babysitter, so I don’t know.’ He shrugged and stood up straight.

Darcy ran her hand down her face and sat up. She looked at the clock and her eyes widened. ‘Loki, it’s five in the morning.’ She grumbled.

‘And?’

‘And, it’s still the middle of the night for me! If you want to go bug someone, go bug Jane. I’m sure she will be up by now.’ She went to lie down again but Loki wasn’t giving in so easily.

‘Last time I did, they weren’t too pleased with that. Come on. Besides, I want to show you something.’

‘If that is some euphemism for your dick, I don’t want to know.’

‘Darcy.’ Loki growled.

She knew she wasn’t going to get anymore sleep. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way.

‘Ugh. Fine! Give me ten minutes to get dressed, I’ll meet you outside.’ She grumbled, slowly dragging herself out of bed.

‘Excellent.’ Loki grinned and teleported outside her door.

She hung her head down and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up more.

When she eventually came out of her room, Loki was tapping his foot impatiently with his hands on his hips. ‘That was twelve minutes.’

‘You were actually timing me?’

‘No more chat, come on.’ He grabbed her wrist and started practically dragging her down the corridor.

The only time he initiated touching her was to either drag her somewhere or there was one time a spider landed on her shoulder so he had flicked it off her. But it was more than anyone else got, as he didn’t even like standing too closely to anyone else.

Though she couldn’t blame him. They still didn’t exactly treat him overly well. Not giving him much of a chance to redeem himself. And it pissed her off some of the things they said about him, she would stick up for him when she could, of course.

She was surprised when he took her to the lifts and right up to the top floor. He then led her to the fire exit that led out onto the roof.

‘Loki, where are we going?’ She asked when they went up the steps.

‘Just wait and see.’

Once outside on the roof, Darcy was rather surprised. It was still dark, and because it was frosty the night sky was clear. Showing all the stars.

Loki went over to the edge and sat down, Darcy followed and sat next to him. She looked up, following his gaze.

‘Wow. I didn’t realise how good of a view it is up here. It’s so clear.’ She said in slight awe.

‘See that bright star in the middle of a group of them, there? Almost a golden colour?’ Loki pointed at it.

‘Yeah?’

‘That’s Asgard. It can only be seen from Midgard once every one hundred years.’

‘Shit, really? That’s amazing!’ Darcy was surprised, she never even knew it was possible to see Asgard from Earth at any time. ‘Wow.’

Loki pointed out a few other planets and stars that she had no idea about. But she started shivering, it was the start of winter and she hadn’t exactly dressed for being outside.

‘Here.’ Loki conjured up his cape and he draped it around her.

‘Thanks. I’m honoured.’ She teased.

‘If you tell anyone I gave you my cape I will push you off here.’ He threatened, but had a smirk on his face.

‘Charming.’ Darcy scoffed.

They stayed out for a while, just looking at the stars.

‘I still have my doubts about being here.’ Loki said out of the blue. Darcy looked at him and smiled softly.

‘Look, I know the others are assholes. But just give them more time. You can’t really blame them for being overly cautious, not after what you did. When you get to go on a mission, you can prove yourself.’

‘What if I can’t.’

‘What do you mean?’ Darcy frowned.

‘What if I am exactly what they think I am. If I haven’t changed. I am perhaps the monster that everyone has told me I am these past few years, maybe I wasn’t brainwashed.’ He said in a clipped tone.

‘You’re not a monster, Loki. You’re really not.’ Darcy looked forward again. ‘If you were, you’d have killed me as soon as you abducted me. Heck, I know I’m not the easiest of people to get along with, but you seem to be the only one here who wants to be around me for longer than a minute. That says a lot.’

Loki frowned and turned to look at her. ‘Darcy.’ She looked at him. ‘You are the easiest person I’ve ever met to get along with. You’re real, there’s no bullshit with you, no illusions. Better than those that put up a façade. At risk of sounding cheesy, you’re the first person in a long time… actually… ever, where I’ve felt I’ve been able to be myself without feeling at risk of being hated or feared.’

Darcy smiled genuinely at him. ‘Likewise, actually. You are the first person to see me for me, not just a busy body who is good for fetching coffee. Just the apprentice.’

Loki and Darcy weren’t really sure what just came over them. But they felt a weird at peace and warm kind of feeling. Smiling at one another, they said no more and just looked at the stars again for a while.

But Darcy knew that the others had Loki all wrong, that was for sure. She just hoped they would see him for him soon, or that he would maybe let them in a little. It had to go both ways.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #tasertricks #darcy lewis #fan fiction #trust

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

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Trust, Chapter 10

TITLE: Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 10 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki kidnaps Darcy Lewis, in hopes of getting the tesseract in return for her. Imagine his surprise when he grows rather fond of the mortal, finding that she understands him better than anyone else ever has. RATING: M

As the weeks went by, everyone was surprised that Loki was actually behaving himself. Well, in regards to not killing anyone anyway.

He was having plenty of fun causing mischief and playing pranks on everyone. Darcy joined in a few, actually enjoying her days for a change.

‘Move out the way, reindeer games.’ Stark shoved past Loki, but barely made it a few steps away from him before he was blasted into the nearest wall for daring to touch him.

It nearly caused a huge fight, but Steve managed to calm Tony down while Darcy was able to drag Loki away.

That same evening the team had managed to persuade Loki and Darcy to join them all to watch a film. Even if they had been reluctant to invite Darcy because she always spoke through films.

‘What the fuck is she doing? She can’t even run properly… There, I told you she was going to get killed from the start!’

‘Who the heck would walk into a dark room and NOT turn on the lights?’

‘Oh no, they better not hurt the dog! Anyone but the dog!’

‘Well of course that idiot was going to die. He was reckless and stupid!’

Loki found it amusing, especially because everyone else looked extremely pissed off whenever she opened her mouth.

‘I’ll stay here for a bit.’ Loki said, not moving from the sofa.

‘Alright. Catch you in the morning. Night everyone!’ She ruffled Loki’s hair to annoy him before heading off, earning a scowl from him but nothing more.

Tony looked at Natasha and Clint with a what the fuck? look on his face. ‘Did she seriously just mess up his hair and actually not get murdered for it?’ He said, making them laugh.

‘Pssst, Darcy.’

Darcy groaned and whacked at the hand that was tapping her arm.

‘Darcy!’

She opened her eyes and glared up at the interruption of her sleep. It was Loki, looming over her.

‘Jesus, Loki. What do you want? Why are you in my room?’ She frowned and looked around confused.

‘I’m bored.’

‘So? What do you want me to do about it?’

‘You’re my supposed babysitter, so I don’t know.’ He shrugged and stood up straight.

Darcy ran her hand down her face and sat up. She looked at the clock and her eyes widened. ‘Loki, it’s five in the morning.’ She grumbled.

‘And?’

‘And, it’s still the middle of the night for me! If you want to go bug someone, go bug Jane. I’m sure she will be up by now.’ She went to lie down again but Loki wasn’t giving in so easily.

‘Last time I did, they weren’t too pleased with that. Come on. Besides, I want to show you something.’

‘If that is some euphemism for your dick, I don’t want to know.’

‘Darcy.’ Loki growled.

She knew she wasn’t going to get anymore sleep. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way.

‘Ugh. Fine! Give me ten minutes to get dressed, I’ll meet you outside.’ She grumbled, slowly dragging herself out of bed.

‘Excellent.’ Loki grinned and teleported outside her door.

She hung her head down and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up more.

When she eventually came out of her room, Loki was tapping his foot impatiently with his hands on his hips. ‘That was twelve minutes.’

‘You were actually timing me?’

‘No more chat, come on.’ He grabbed her wrist and started practically dragging her down the corridor.

She was surprised when he took her to the lifts and right up to the top floor. He then led her to the fire exit that led out onto the roof.

‘Loki, where are we going?’ She asked when they went up the steps.

‘Just wait and see.’

Once outside on the roof, Darcy was rather surprised. It was still dark, and because it was frosty the night sky was clear. Showing all the stars.

Loki went over to the edge and sat down, Darcy followed and sat next to him. She looked up, following his gaze.

‘Wow. I didn’t realise how good of a view it is up here. It’s so clear.’ She said in slight awe.

‘See that bright star in the middle of a group of them, there? Almost a golden colour?’ Loki pointed at it.

‘Yeah?’

‘That’s Asgard. It can only be seen from Midgard once every one hundred years.’

‘Shit, really? That’s amazing!’ Darcy was surprised, she never even knew it was possible to see Asgard from Earth at any time. ‘Wow.’

Loki pointed out a few other planets and stars that she had no idea about. But she started shivering, it was the start of winter and she hadn’t exactly dressed for being outside.

‘Here.’ Loki conjured up his cape and he draped it around her.

‘Thanks. I’m honoured.’ She teased.

‘If you tell anyone I gave you my cape I will push you off here.’ He threatened, but had a smirk on his face.

‘Charming.’ Darcy scoffed.

They stayed out for a while, just looking at the stars.

‘I still have my doubts about being here.’ Loki said out of the blue. Darcy looked at him and smiled softly.

‘What if I can’t.’

‘What do you mean?’ Darcy frowned.

Darcy smiled genuinely at him. ‘Likewise, actually. You are the first person to see me for me, not just a busy body who is good for fetching coffee. Just the apprentice.’

But Darcy knew that the others had Loki all wrong, that was for sure. She just hoped they would see him for him soon, or that he would maybe let them in a little. It had to go both ways.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #trust #chapter 10 #fanfichiddles

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vinylhazza · 5 years ago

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Timid Touching (E.D)

Summary: After a particularly rough day at work, y/n stumbles upon her bestfriend naked and tugging one out on the couch, he woos her into staying to enjoy the fun and maybe do something she never has before.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warning: just dirty ass smut

Dedication: @dolandolll thank you for being you! love you bubs xoxo

It was unexpected on such an annoying and brutal day of relentless complaining at work, spilling hot coffee all over her shirt, and getting stuck in endless traffic that she would walk in and she was she is seeing now.

She was pulling up to the house in a cursing rage, so fed up with the blabbering dumbfucks at her work that she wanted nothing more than to take a bath, put on a facemask, watch a movie, and go to sleep to start the weekend off right. It was an added bonus that she recently moved in with her two bestfriends Ethan and Grayson - after months and months of begging from both twins and the promise of smiles and amazing avocado toast daily.

It had been a dream so far, getting to wake up with relaxing vibes and getting to hang out with the men that made her the happiest (one already having her heart but she does her best to ignore that in fear of rejection). It’s your sappy teen movie, a bestfriend swooning over someone that she presumes sees her as only that: a friend.

She shook the thoughts from her head when she slammed the door to her car, making sure she heard the beep indicating it was in fact locked before she began to stomp up to the front door with her bag slung across her front. She had parked right behind Ethan’s Jeep, noticing for a split second that Grayson’s car was nowhere to be found. It was odd for the time of evening that it was, the sun sinking below the horizon, leaving California in a cool windy evening that was about to get even more interesting, even if she wasn't aware.

She wasn’t too concerned about Grayson being gone, simply a bit nervous that she would be left alone with Ethan for God knows how long, with his infectious beautiful smile and his sinfully sexy body that drove her insane. It was just a bad night for her to be both pissed off and horny and swooning over her bestfriend.

She huffs out an irritated breath when the keypad clicks the lock open and she swings the door wide with her hand, stepping into the dark entryway of the house and setting her purse onto the hook at the right side of her head. Grayson had kindly installed it for her convenience, laughing every time she would have to set it on the “dirty” floor. Out of the kindness of his heart he caved and ended his fun by giving her a hook to make her life easier. She liked being able to just grab it on her way out the door, and he knew that.

Y/n noticed Ethan’s shoes placed neatly on the mat, meaning he was relaxing somewhere and not planning on leaving.

“E?” she called out through the house, not loud enough to be considered a yell, just louder than her normal speaking voice. But nothing came after. Only the reverberation of her voice against the walls.

She nudged her shoes off her own feet, setting them next to her bestfriends, speaking once more in hopes he was actually close by and was just too distracted to answer, “work was absolute shit.” But still no answer followed.

She had been too caught up in her thoughts to actually notice the flashing of the tv coming from down the hall and the peculiar noise bouncing from the walls and to her curious ears. Her eyebrows are furrowed down into a pout as she shuffles down the hallway to the living room, her plan to pester Ethan about ignoring her for the TV cut short when she enters the spacious room.

You know what they say: curiosity killed the kitty. And she was pretty sure she was going to die of a heart attack when she entered the room - stopping dead in her tracks.

She realizes quickly what the sounds were, widening her eyes at the TV on a stand that Grayson built, bright as can be in the dim living room, a clip of two girls touching each other flashing across the screen while they moaned loudly into each others mouths. She nearly faints at the sight, so shocked what she thought was an innocent movie was actually lesbian porn.

“Y/n,” Ethan says casually, startling her just enough that her eyes are ripped from the TV to land right on his bare body on the couch, dick slapped hard against his stomach, leaking precum, “why so sad? work a little rough today?”

His voice is light and silky, a couple octaves lower than normal, making it even more difficult for her to look him in the eye.

Was he seriously trying to have a normal conversation right now? Was he teasing her? Was he mocking her for catching him in such a...interesting situation?

Her mouth is dry as sandpaper at this point, stuttering out a quick “yeah” sheepishly, not really sure where she should be looking, at Ethan? At the TV? The ground? So she settles for her bare feet, suddenly very interested in her purple nail polish covering them and the ankle bracelet that hangs around the ankle with a little turtle charm. She starts to wish she had stayed a little longer at work, not knowing in the slightest how to navigate this predicament she found herself in.

She’s seen both of the twins naked before yeah, on accident with each one of them. She wasn’t used to having to knock, so there had been a few times where she found herself walking in on one of them changing - quickly squeaking out an apology and slamming the door closed. But she’d never seen them with a hard on or anything remotely close, not that she could tell at least. This was completely out of the blue for her.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to not look at someone when they’re talking to you bubs?” His teasing voice cuts through the thickening air. He says it like he wasn't just vigorously jerking off only moments ago, like he isn’t sitting butt ass naked in front of his bestfriend watching two girls eat each other’s pussies sloppily.

She knows he’s challenging her to look. So look she does, shooting her head up from her feet to land right on his hazel eyes that stare back at her. She makes a mental note to not let her eyes wander anywhere else on his body, especially not down to where her eyes had been glued when she first walked into the room. That’s for sure a sight she won’t forget.

She decides that instead of standing there with her blushing cheeks and twiddling thumbs embarrassing herself, she was going to politely exit the room and just pretend like this never happened. Even though she would never be able to get the image of his massive leaking cock out of her mind even if she tried to. He was fucking gorgeous and she couldn’t deny it.

Yeah of course she wanted to fuck the shit out of him, she’s always wanted to, but now that she’s standing here totally off guard and caught watching him red handed she is embarrassed beyond belief. She always imagined that if they did take that step in their relationship it would be more...romantic and not dirty and sudden after a shitty day at work.

“I think I’m just gonna go take a bath-” She turns her back to the room, fully prepared to sprint down the hall if she had to, not wanting to embarrass herself any longer. She wanted to sink into a hot bath, ease her stress and sleep this horrendous day off. And she hoped to God he didn't bring this up again. But before she can walk back down the hallway Ethan’ talking again in that fucking tone that has her insides stirring.

“Sweet innocent little Y/n scared of a little porn huh?” he grins at her, quirking a dark defined eyebrow. Little shit knew he was getting to her.

“Not scared,” she mutters, “I just don't watch it that’s all.” She’s embarrassed to even be having this conversation with him. She wishes for a moment that the floor would just open up beneath her and swallow her whole to save her from having to answer anymore of his questions.

“Bullshit. Everyone does. How else do you get that little pussy of yours to cum the fastest?” he continues on, staring her down intensely. She couldn't believe how easily he was talking about her the way that he was and saying all of the things he was saying. He’d never been as open as he was being right now. Sure he flirted with her all the time, but he had never used that kind of language with her. I guess now was as good a time as ever to shoot his shot.

“I don't Ethan,” it's not an answer he’s expecting obviously because his eyes widen and his mouth open some more in mock horror, a shocked little scoff escaping his lips.

“No? You’re telling me you don't rub that little cunt in the middle of the night when you get all hot and bothered?” his presses on.

“Yep pretty much what I’m saying,” she mumbles out.

Please dear fuck Ethan let it go and let me take my damn bath, she pleaded to the heavens, her head falling back to stare at the ceiling with a sigh. She must be dreaming because there is no way in heaven or hell that Ethan Dolan, her best friend, was sitting her saying things to her right now. It seems the moans coming from the speakers only get louder to her ears.

It’s almost as if the small flame she had in her stomach when she was with him was spreading because she started to feel heat shoot from her middle and down all the way to her toes. She played it off as being anxious but she noticed that her panties were starting to get a bit wet. Rubbing her thighs together is what she settled on until she could take her bath and forget that this night happened unless he brought it up again.

“Look I’m just gonna go so you can finish whatever you need to,” she tries to dismiss herself once again, twisting on her heel to exit the room and let him get back to watching the two pretty brunettes on the screen scissor each other senseless. As she takes a step she’s stopped once again.

“Wimpass,” Ethan mutters slyly, deliberately looking away when she turns to stare at him with a raised eyebrow. Did he just call her a wimp? For what reason?

“E-excuse me?” she squeaks, not believing this is real life. She swears to God she must be asleep on her bed or something because Ethan would never be this bold in front of her. Or would he?

“You’re a wimpass,” he says once again, more clear. A sneaky little smile makes its way to his face, eyebrow still raised as the girls switch positions, one on top one on bottom while one sucks on the others pussy and fingers her at the same time. Her heart is pounding at this point.

“I’m not a wimp Ethan stop,” her cheeks are on fire because she knows he’s going to challenge her once more.

“If you don’t stay you're a wimpass,” he reiterates. He knows she hates to be bullied into something, but at this point he’s so eager and hungry to see her finally get herself off next to him he’s sputtering out whatever dirty thing he can to get her to stay.

He would always call her a wimp when she was scared of something, usually causing her to shoot him a glare and prove him wrong. He hopes this is the same. And with the scrunch of her eyebrows and firm line on her lips he can tell he got to her in the way he wanted.

“We aren't 4 Ethan,” she huffs out a shaky breath, frustrated that she looks so flustered in front of him. She always wanted to look sort of confident and strong for him, thought he liked that. But she has no clue that her cluelessness is making him want to bust a load untouched on their couch.

She stands still, fingers playing with the end of her shirt and tries hard to ignore the moans filling the room.

“Oh I know that, we are actually adults,” he pauses, looking at her with that same smirk, “so if you don’t stay I guess that means you’re a 4 year old wimpass right?”

He opens his arms in a challenging manner, daring her to take the bait and stay.

So with a heavy sigh and several scorching glares thrown in Ethan’s direction, she timidly makes her way over to the couch just a few steps away, her heart already thumping dangerously fast in her chest. She sits on the opposite side of him, trying not to look, keeping her eyes on the wall in front of her. She doesn’t know why she actually chose to stay because Ethan would never force her into something she didn’t want to do and they both know that. He might tease and mock her but it’s ultimately her decision.

“I’m not a wimp. And I’m only staying for a bit, my bath is calling my name. And I’m not touching myself so get that out of your head right now,” she’s talking fast and stern, not wanting to be interrupted. She decided she was only going to stay for 5 minutes...that’s long enough right? It’s long enough to her and that’s all she cares about.

Her cheeks are on fire when he starts to scooch his naked body across the couch and sit uncomfortably close to her considering all the empty space. Was there something wrong with his previous spot? No. Did he want her to see exactly what he was doing up close and personal? Yes.

“Suit yourself,” he sing songs to her with a dazzling smile, pausing the porn on the screen with the TV remote in between their bodies. It looked so natural and easy with him, his relaxed body that looked so content and comfortable doing this in front of her. It had her mind racing and her eyes following his every move hoping he wouldn't notice, “here let’s change this to something that,” he glances to her stiff frame, “you might enjoy,” he ends with a smirk - dropping a wink.

He flicks and scrolls through many titles, all ending in “XXX” , sending a shiver running down her spine. He finally lands on a video of a muscular man with many tattoos and a pretty brunette. The scene starts with the two in a bedroom, already naked and on the king sized bed, the mans lips trailing over her dewy skin. It started off slowly, just simple kissing and some whimpers here and there, nothing she hadn’t seen before. She wonders for a minute why he would pick something so vanilla, but she is mistaken when the scene speeds up.

Ethan palming and stroking his own dick catches her attention from the corner of her curious eyes. His own are fixed on the two on the screen as the anticipation grows. Her eyes widen and her legs cross over themselves when the tattooed mans lips travel down to the woman’s pussy, smacking loudly against her skin. Her cheeks are flushing crimson at the sight of his tongue flicking to collect her juices.

I’m not getting turned on, I’m not getting turned on, I’m not getting turned on she repeats to herself, trying to stop the already wet pooling that’s happening in her white lace panties. But it was so hard with Ethan’s fit body, knowing he’s sitting next to her stroking his massive dick, knowing he wanted her to stay, and the moans and actions from the two pornstars on the screen. This can’t be happening. She can’t get horny in front of her bestfriend. But that’s easier said than done when the mans lips finally latch onto the woman’s clit, swirling his tongue down to her entrance and back up, repeating the action over and over with labored breathing. She gulped hard, trying to keep herself in check.

The man proceeds to full on tongue fuck the girl, his tongue flicking inside her cunt over and over again, mouth fully resting on her. Jaw slack and sloshing against her folds.

She squeezes her legs together when she feels the warmth, thinking it was innocent enough that Ethan wouldn’t notice the small action. She hoped he was too focused on getting himself off to notice she was even there. She hoped.

“I see that yeknow,” Ethan comments casually, hand wrapped snug around his dick but not moving. Fuck. She was caught.

“See what...” her face is burning with embarrassment, hating this with everything she had in her. How does one get themselves in this kind of situation?

“I see you squeezing your thighs together, but I promise if you give up this little act and rub that pretty pussy of yours it’ll feel much better.”

He begins to move his hand up and down again, slowly stroking his aching cock in front of her, rubbing his thumb over the tip and jerking a little at how good it feels. He really can’t believe his own luck that she walked in right as he was just starting to think of her face he wishes he could fuck. There she came, stumbling in on him with those rosy cheeks and fidgeting fingers, so pretty.

But she’d never gotten herself off before, her posh mother always telling her it was shameful and taboo. So no matter how horny she got, she just wouldn’t let herself fix the situation. Of course she’d had sex before. Had it been great? No. Had it been what she’d expected? Nope. Was it only for the guys benefit and that’s it? Yep. It was the description of her sex life, her needs were tossed to the side and she was left hanging. She just figured that’s how things worked. That’s why she always excused herself when it came to sexual conversations with twins, she didn’t want to be awkward when they asked her questions and seem like she was an inexperienced snob.

But Ethan was making it seem so...normal, to touch yourself and like it. She was actually naïve enough to think that it wasn’t something everyone did? Fuck he wanted nothing more than the ram himself into that hot body sitting next to him. With that thought alone he grips himself harder to tug and tug and tug, throwing his head back some and looking at her through his eyelashes discretely.

She sees him watching her, but tries to keep her eyes on the TV, noticing how hard his breathing had become when he ran his fingers up and down his length repeatedly. She’s just staring at him jerking off now, eyes soft and curious. She’s immediately clenching around nothing, just wondering and daydreaming about what he would feel like up inside of her. His smirk grows when he eyes her watching his hand on himself, “like what you see mama?”

“No shut up,” she mumbles, shaking her head and looking away ashamed. She switches her attention back to the girl on the screen, moaning and writing against the bed at the mans touch. The man has now entered the girl, gripping her hips tightly. He’s ramming into her with an unbelievable force, face red and determined. Her mouth is in a large O shape, eyes squeezed shut, entire body jolting forward with every harsh thrust into her pussy. She couldn’t help but imagine Ethan doing the same to her, absolutely wrecking her with speed and uncontrollable moans and grunts. She couldn’t help but imagine his eyes looking at her like he hates her, but showing her much different. Shit she wanted it. Bad.

She nearly jumps off the dark grey couch when her legs are ripped apart and opened wide by none other than Ethan. He has stopped stroking himself completely to reach for her hand and place it right over the crotch of her pants, feeling how hot she was beneath and loving it.

“Fucking rub already Y/n,” his tone his dominant and frustrated, clearly done with watching her suffer in her own head right next to him and doing nothing to help relieve the built up pressure in her stomach. She stares at him, shocked and frozen. She wasn't expecting that at all, more shocked at the electric flare she felt in her entire body when he had her hand in his own. She’s never been this worked up over anyone in her entire life and she almost blanks on what to do.

“You are obviously sexually frustrated. I can feel it so fucking much and it’s driving me crazy so rub.” His stare is near cold, wanting to fix your situation himself but waiting for the right moment.

It’s in this moment that she gets a strange feeling to make him...proud? And prove to him she’s not a total inexperienced prude that’s useless. She wants to say something anything in return but he’s already looked away from her and continued to rub himself like nothing happened. It takes her about three seconds to obey his order and turn back to watch the screen and start to gently rub herself over her pants. This continues for a few moments, slowly increasing the pressure until it finally becomes too much and she starts to wiggle next to him, needing something more than a little touching over fabric.

With a shaky breath she makes a bold move and slips her hand inside her pants, beginning to rub herself over her underwear, the lace causing extra friction. She lets out a quiet whimper at her movements, slipping the underwear aside to rub against her clit in slow motions, finally deciding to dip a finger inside. But that’s where she gets stuck, finger just resting inside of her and not moving. She’s never done this before so how was she supposed to know? She hears a chuckle next to her and turns her head to the side to see her best friend gazing at her with dark eyes, “stuck kitten?” amused and not even bothering to hide it. This is the hottest shit he’s ever seen.

All of these pet names are driving her mad, slipping out so easily that she doesn't even question it. Kitten had really done her in, cheeks set ablaze while she mutters a soft “I don’t...” not even getting to finish her sentence when he lets out a sigh, yanking her onto his lap and tugging her pants and underwear off quickly. It was so fast she didn’t even have a chance to think or react to what he was doing, just resting against him with wide eyes and a hammering heart. She thinks about just getting up and walking out because she’s mortifyingly turned on and she knows he can feel it right now considering her soaked cunt is sitting right against his tattooed thigh. He smirks at the yelp she lets out when he places his warm palm right on her pussy, rubbing it up and down between her folds, agonizingly slow. His fingers are warm from being wrapped around himself for a good period of time, feeling like fire against her.

“Relax baby I promise it will feel good,” he whispers huskily in her ear, sucking her lobe for a second only to kiss at her neck a second after. Baby. Fuck she’s gonna die. She wants him to call her that always. She’d gladly be his baby.

“Keep those pretty eyes on the screen,” he urges, noticing with a rapid heartrate that she had been looking down at his hand that rubbed against her. He adds more pressure to her clit, circling it and pressing on it in figure eight motions to get her wiggling on him again. Feeling her sliding against his fingers is almost too much to handle.

“Look at how he’s pumping in and out of her,” his voice sends waves of electric arousal crashing through her all at once, “think of all of that pressure...all that pleasure.” His touch is gentle and his voice is quiet, speaking right into her ear, eyes latched onto the side of her face to notice her every expression, notice every quiver of her lip and eyeroll. Loved that it was all because of him.

She is overwhelmed, moaning and squirming on his lap. She could feel his dick pressed into her back and felt unholy at the thoughts that were racing through her head about the man she never thought she had a chance with. It’s all so mind boggling. Her eyes threaten to flutter shut, body falling back further to rest fully against his chest, but she keeps them open, keeps watching the man ram himself into the petite girl underneath him. She’s already come twice in the video and that alone has her walls clenching around nothing, seeing all of the pleasure and receiving pleasure all at once. And then she finally hears that beautiful moan from the beautiful man she secretly adores and it’s all because her legs are shaking and vibrating lightly from the fire threatening to rip through her.

“You are unreal mama,” he rasps when his dick twitches again the smooth skin of her back, “you have no idea how sexy this is...touching you like this,” he pauses to kiss her neck once more and suck a love bite into the skin, “while we watch these strangers fuck each other senseless...looks fun doesn’t it baby? Does that look fun?” He pinches her clit lightly, rolling it between his fingers for a moment and grinning at the response she gives him. For someone so seemingly shy and innocent she is more responsive than he thought. He feels high on her, getting everything he can get until he can’t stand it anymore. He almost cums untouched when he sees her answer his question with a nod.

When he pinches her clit again, her hand shoots down to rest against his own, sensitive and not expecting such a feeling just from him pinching her down there. With the previous boys there had never been any of this foreplay, but just using her as a hole and ditching her.

“My sensitive girl,” he hums with a proud smile, smacking her hand away and moving his fingers down to circle at your entrance, dipping a finger in and then shortly adding another, moaning, “fuck you’re dripping,” he breathes out. She grabs his hand once more when he curls his fingers in her up to that spot that has her seeing stars.

“That feels so good e,” she whines, finally becoming more vocal. It had him humming into her neck with a nod, he knows what he’s doing to her - but it’s still nice to hear from her. She has both hands down holding the top of his that fucks into her, adding that extra pressure herself. It gives her some sense of control and lets him know that she’s loving it and she wants him to keep going.

“Can you play with those beautiful tits for me baby?” never stopping his movements with his fingers, he just wants her to feel as good as she possibly can, plus wants to see her pleasing herself, “just play with your nipples...wanna see you play with yourself,” he continues, fully expecting her to shrink into him with heated cheeks. But she merely raises her shirt above her head and un clips her bra to squeeze and massage her breasts together, following his order and squeezing on her own nipples, rolling and pinching them. She lets out the loudest moan yet when he rubs over the side of her leg lovingly, still fingering her to the heavens. It was such a...soft touch that had her turning to look at him, noticing how close she was to his lips and if she really wanted to she could lean in to kiss him. She’s simply observing the way his eyes watch her, dark and beautiful just skimming over her glorious body like he adores her...which he does. He wishes she knew.

But then she decides to be bold, taking her hands away from her body to cup his scruffy cheeks, eyes flicking up to meet hers before she plants a kiss right upon his mouth. His breath hitches in his throat at the feeling he’s longed to feel for so long. Her hands are cradling his face, kissing him with a passionate force, sighing when he finally starts to kiss her back with the same urgency. Of course they are being intimate right now, but somehow this has a different meaning to both of them - they put all of their feelings and thoughts into this kiss, floating on clouds together.

“I’d like to fuck you like that,” he breathes when they break apart to catch their breath. His fingers dip into her faster and harder than before, trying to convince her. Little does he know she doesn’t need convincing, “you want that mama? Wanna feel me all up in your guts? Fuck I’d ruin this little pussy..” She’s watching the man on the screen plunge his dick into the woman aggressively, the moans echoing around the living room.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, anything for you kitten,” and you can tell he means it, turning her head to plant another soft kiss on her lips.

“E-ethan do something - I need more” breath being knocked from her chest as the pleasure increased.

“What do you want?” he urges. When he doesn’t get any other answer other than a whiny “please” he rams his fingers into her harder than ever, making her cry out. “Fucking answer me Y/n or I’ll stop,” he threatens.

“Fuck me please e,” she moans out, grinding into his hand, hips swiveling against him.

“Beg for it,” he growls, just waiting for the word so he can flip her on her back to slam himself into her tight fuckhole, he just knows it’s worth the wait.

“Please Ethan fuck me please I promise I’ll be good please just wanna be good for you please!” Oh my God he wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting it to have such an effect on her, but she’s totally gone, euphoria fueling her.

That’s it. That’s all he needed to tug her off of his lap and slam her onto the couch, hovering over her, admiring the way her hair fans out like a halo...beautiful, breathtaking, ethereal, ravishing, lovely...fuck he’s really whipped. It’s like he’s seeing her in a new light, like he has refused to accept the feelings he’s always had and now that she’s here he wants to. It almost makes him panic that the way she’s grinning up at him right now is making his heart flip and flutter. But he merely takes a deep breath before leaning down and kissing her again slowly, nibbling on her bottom lip.

“You’re about to feel so fucking good baby,” he is so damn cocky and it makes her even more soaked if that’s possible. He rubs his reddened tip between her slick folds before entering the tip into her, even with just the tip in he can feel how tight she really is. He can tell it's been a while, and that makes it feel all the more special.

When he sinks further into her he leans down to rest his head against her chest, overwhelmed.

“Thought you were an angel, turns out you're a dirty little slut,” he whispers when he takes one of her nipples between his lips. On the word “slut” he bottoms out, balls deep inside of his babygirl. He promises that after this things will change between them, he has to make her his officially. But right in this moment his top priority is getting her to cum the hardest she ever has (judging by the fact she’s only cum once before it shouldn’t be too hard but he doesn’t know that).

Her fingertips push against the curve of his back, pulling him closer to her. She can feel him pulsing inside of her, so so deep. With every thrust, every push and pull her boobs are bouncing against his chest. He raises himself on one steady arm, muscles bulging, looking like fucking work of art above her while he continues to speed up, slamming into her over and over again, one hand squeezing her hip. She knows she’s probably going to be sore after this but she doesn't mind. It will just be a reminder of this amazing moment that she hopes will happen again.

“Faster yes yes yes just like that right there keep - fuuuuu” her voice is hoarse at this point, moaning loud and occasionally screaming out when he hits a spot so deep she thinks she might pass out. She can’t believe all of his length could actually fit inside of her. None of the men she’s ever been with have been this big. He has every right to have that cocky look he’s giving her.

“So pretty kitten gonna make me cum,” he groans while looking down to where he disappears inside her, plunging deeper and deeper. Her legs are shaking once more, warm ball growing in her tummy, threatening to explode at any moment if he keeps thrusting so hard and fast. He’s panting, red in the face, light blanket of sweat covering his sun-kissed skin.

“Wait wait I can’t- fuck it’s too - ohhhh” she’s threatening to let go, grinding her hips up to meet his thrusts, fucking herself up on him. Such a dirty girl in disguise.

He gritted his teeth, feeling it coming like a freight train.

“Cum for me e, come on give me that cum,” she whispers seductively in his ear, rubbing a manicured fingernail down the side of his neck, twirling a little piece of hair in the back. That did it for him.

He lets go at the same time she does, screaming her name and stilling in her to spill all that he has into her pussy, grinding slowly to milk himself dry, spurts of warm thick cum seeping out of him and into her cunt that just keeps quivering around him. Wave after wave of pleasure washes through them both, the unexpected situation making everything even more arousing. She’s so warm he almost doesn’t want to move. He likes the feeling of being buried inside of her. She obviously feels the same way by the look on her face because she is reaching up and tugging him down, hugging him while he peppers sweet tender kisses into her neck, nails scratching over his back. His chest rises and falls at a steady pace now, so tired after their previous actions that sleep threatens to take over.

He doesn’t think he’s every came that hard in his life, and he was happy about the fucked out look on Y/n’s face, and her limp body. He did his job well.

His beautiful hazel eyes are fluttering closed, eyelashes tickling her neck. He loves this feeling and never wants to let it go.

“Thank you,” she whispers to him shakily, legs entangled with his on the soft plush couch.

She knows they should move to the bedroom in case Grayson comes home, but she is so unbelievably comfortable right now and the feeling of him loving on her feels so good she can’t bring it in herself to force him to move his exhausted body across the house.

“For what sweetness?” he mumbles with a mumbled voice, making a dreamy smile appear on her face.

“For helping me...” she’s shy and he can tell, but he’s never letting her go after this. He will make it his personal goal to make her feel as beautiful as he knows and sees that she is. She feels like something has changed between them, something has finally been unlocked, like it was just a matter of time before they ended up together.

“Anything for my girl,” he assures her with another peck to her skin, meaning it with his entire person, “let’s get some sleep and maybe we can...take a shower yeah? If you don’t want to it’s okay I just think maybe the modesty thing between us is practically diminished but if you’re not comfo-” he blabbers on in his sleepy voice, anxiousness creeping in.

“That sounds great e, quit your blubbering and go to sleep,” she assures him, kissing the top of his head and receiving a chuckle in response. Her nails still scratch at his scalp, lazily trailing through his hair. She’s still not fully convinced it’s real, but prays when she wakes up he’s still going to be smushing her with his heavy ass body. She knows she won’t be sleeping in her own bed, she’s already addicted to the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

They don’t realize it in this moment, but this is the start of an incredible journey that they both deserve, and to think all it took was a little bit of timid touching.

1K notes · View notes

dunsbar · 4 years ago

Text

do you see no further than this façade?

Word Count: approx. 2500

Notes: Happy Holidays, Jany (@hehimbo)! I was your @ambitionsource Secret Santa and it was such an honour! Please accept this short and sweet little canon divergent fic about AAA’s most ridiculous couple. I don’t know you as well as I’d like to, but I hope I wrote something that you’ll enjoy.

Summary: Riley finds a silver lining in her broken locker when someone starts leaving her thoughtful gifts. Secret admirer trope, canon divergent during Season 1.

—

The first time it happens, she doesn’t even realize it’s started.

Riley’s locker is not a place she usually lingers. It’s loved, yes, filled with photos— her and the techie crew, the cast photo for this year’s musical, a clumsy shot of her and Zay voguing. One of her and Isadora, the other girl staring dead into the camera, unamused, while Riley flashes her biggest grin.

Yet, it’s purpose is still mainly functional. Or it was functional, because unfortunately for Riley, two days ago she realized her locker was broken.

She’d been fumbling with it, the bell ringing loudly as students rushed past, singing, chattering, stomping through the hall. She was jostled a couple times, which is always annoying considering how small the student body is here— yet there are still people who find the space (or lack of) to bump into her. Her fingernails smacked painfully against the cold metal of the lock.

Finally, with the bell petering out, Riley just… made the decision to deal with it later. Nothing of monetary value in her locker, aside from the photo of Zay which will be worth hundreds when he inevitably makes it big.

Timing seems to have aligned itself with her enemies, seeing that in her next class, Angela informs the students that there is currently a stomach virus circling the sacred halls of AAA. It’s something Riley should have seen coming, as it’s winter, and Clarissa and Jeff were both noticeably absent that morning. Riley, not new to the concept of virus outbreaks in the school system calculates this in her head— Janitor Harley is going to be busy wiping up puke for… well, probably at least a week and a half. What’s the point of bothering the poor man about a broken locker storing nothing of value while he singlehandedly cleans up after stomach flu?

No, Riley thinks to herself. I’ll just wait it out.

Back in the present, Riley smooths out the corner of her picture with the techies and tucks away her copy of Leaves of Grass (her choice reading for an English project, and actually likes it) on the shelf up top, before pausing and putting it back into her bag, with the idea to read it at lunch— none of the techies mind if she doesn’t talk at the table, and she could probably get into a good discussion on it with Isadora. She makes a mental note to ask Charlie if he’s read it— he’s an English genius, and his insights are always thoughtful and well-detailed.

It’s only when she’s got one hand on the door, about to close the locker, that she notices a flash of violet, out of focus. Glancing over, she sees a purple pen, tucked into the vents by the clip. It’s simple, not fancy or even particularly good quality. But it’s… purple. Her favourite color.

Riley has never seen this particular pen before. She thinks. Well, she’s sort of sure. When your school’s primary dedication is to performing arts, you tend to not need as many “normal” school supplies as “normal” schools, so Riley has a pretty good idea of her catalogue of writing utensils. Still, she could be wrong. It’s not exactly like her pens take high priority in her mind. But this one is… nice.

Pocketing it with a beam, she decides to chalk this one up to fate.

Performance lab has just begun when Riley scurries into the auditorium, Angela pointedly raising an eyebrow from her spot on stage but thankfully saying nothing. Riley opts to sit with the techies— less attention drawn to herself. It’s kind of a moot point considering she caught the twin eyebrow raises Maya and Farkle turned around in their seats to send her, but she slides into a seat beside Isadora, Dylan and Asher on Isa’s other side. Normally Lucas would be there, but a glance around tells her he seems to have skipped out on the afternoon. She can’t stop herself from feeling a twinge of disappointment.

—

It’s the second day when she realizes that the pen was probably not a gift from fate.

Riley is just dropping off her coat and boots that morning, a quick stop before first bell to tuck her wet boots on the crimson metal of her locker floor. There’s a couple wet floor signs down the hall several feet, and Riley winces. According to the grumpy text she got from Isadora that morning, Dylan caught the bug last night. This means Asher’ll likely get it too, and the techies will be seriously understaffed, especially with Jeff gone.

Riley hopes briefly, selfishly, that it’ll mean no more skip days for Lucas.

Glancing up at the top shelf, Riley does a double take.

A white paper bag is perched delicately up there, the bag instantly recognizable as the kind that her favourite bakery uses. She grabs it down, pries it open, and her jaw drops.

It’s her favourite kind of pastry. It smells heavenly, and it’s not exactly still warm but that doesn’t matter, what matters is that someone knew about Riley’s tastes in pastry and went all the way to her favourite bakery to get her one.

She knows she’s prone to gushing about (and recommending) the bakery, but she can only really remember mentioning it one time recently— oh. Oh.

Oh no.

—

Riley picks her way nervously through the cafeteria, echoes of the lunch bell still ringing in her ears. She prays to… something… that Zay is sitting alone.

He is, his lunch in front of him, tapping his fingers on the smooth tabletop. Riley sends a grateful thank you to this ambiguous higher power.

“Zay,” she greets him, her question tumbling out before any common courtesies can be exchanged. “Can I get your advice?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says, raising an eyebrow inquisitively as Riley plops down next to him. “With what?”

Riley chews her lip, pulling an orange out of her lunch bag so she can do something with her hands. “Someone’s leaving me gifts in my locker.”

Zay blinks. “Like… a secret admirer thing?”

“Um.” Riley pauses. “I didn’t really think about it like that, I mean. Maybe?”

“What did they leave you?” Zay asks, in between bites of salad.

“A pen— my favourite color. And my favourite kind of pastry. It’s from this place in Greenwich.”

Zay looks at her. “Riley,” he deadpans, “That’s a secret admirer.”

“Fine,” Riley admits. “Maybe it’s a secret admirer.”

Riley is immensely grateful for Zay Babineaux when he does not laugh at her. Still, the reason why she came to talk to him hangs over her head, and she starts chewing on her lip again.

“What is it?”

“Okay, it’s just,” Riley says. “The last person I remember mentioning the bakery to was Charlie.”

Zay starts coughing through a mouthful of chewed greens.

Riley quickly places a hand on his arm, but he waves her off, even as his eyes water. Once his throat is clearer, he takes a long gulp from her water bottle. She lets him.

“Charlie,” Zay says. “Gardner.”

“Yes,” Riley says, wincing. It kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?— Charlie was kind of flirty earlier in the year, there was that weird comment about the idea of them not being “the worst thing in the world”, oh, it’s all falling into place and Riley’s inner monologue is starting to derail. If it is Charlie, she—

“Are you sure it’s Charlie?” Zay asks, his eyes flicking to somewhere on the other side of the cafeteria.

Riley shakes her head. “Just a…suspicion. He’s a suspect. I suspect him.”

Zay’s mouth twitches. “So. What are you asking me for?”

“Well, you’re better friends with him than I am,” Riley says. “You’re always hanging out in class. And I’m not brave enough to ask Haley if Charlie likes me. That’s a storm I can’t weather.”

That gets a laugh out of Zay, but the look in his eyes is almost wistful. He shakes his head, smiling, all Babineaux charm. “So you want my opinion?”

“I want— Would… would you maybe ask—”

“No,” Zay says emphatically, pointing a finger at her. “No, I am not asking Charlie if he likes you. Do it yourself.”

I have before, Riley thinks. But she just sighs in defeat as Zay mumbles ‘white nonsense’, and finally sets about unwrapping her sandwich.

—

The third gift is a new copy of Leaves of Grass— not a school copy. Her own edition.

She really needs to talk to Charlie.

—

She catches him at the end of the day, out of the dressing rooms and in the middle of the main aisle of the auditorium.

“Charlie, um,” Riley says, and he slows to a stop, turning to face her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he replies, adjusting the strap of his dance bag on his shoulder. Someone’s bumps Riley’s back with an elbow as they walk past— probably Sarah. “What is it?”

“No, not here,” Riley says quickly. “Somewhere more private?”

Charlie’s eyes widen, almost imperceptibly. “Uh, I… um…”

Riley’s stomach sinks like a stone. Oh God, it is Charlie, she thinks, disappointment washing over her like the sea weathering a stone. She hadn’t— well, she’d allowed herself just the slightest hope… of hunched shoulders, sandy hair…

“Please,” she says. “Just one minute.” She catches his arm, gentle. Charlie won’t meet her eyes, but he nods.

Lucas stomps past in his big black boots. Riley turns her head instinctively to offer a smile, but he doesn’t even glance at her. She sighs, turning back to Charlie.

By the time they step into the empty classroom, Charlie seems close to hyperventilating. Riley feels so, so bad for what she’s about to do, but considering she’s already shut him down once this year, it seems like she has to really get him to take the hint. Gently.

“Charlie,” she begins, while he stares at the floor, “I just… I figured it out, okay? And... I don’t know what to say.”

Seemingly, neither does Charlie, because he continues to stare down at his feet in silence. He almost folds in on himself, as if he’s willing himself to not be seen. Riley plows on.

“Well, okay. So, thank you. For everything. The book and the pastry and the—”

Charlie looks up, lightning fast. His brow is furrowed in confusion. “What?”

Riley blinks. “The secret admirer thing.”

“What secret admirer thing?” He sounds genuinely bewildered.

This is not how Riley pictured this going.

“The gifts in my locker,” she says, carefully. “I thought maybe it was you.”

Charlie’s whole shoulders slump, like his body is exhaling. When he speaks, he sounds relieved and honest. “It wasn’t me, I promise.” There’s a tentative, awkward pause. “Um. Sorry?”

Riley laughs, feeling as relieved as he sounds. “No, no, I’m so glad it wasn’t you. I mean— no offense! You know I think you’re great. But just… not like that. So it’s... I’m glad.”

Charlie smiles too, and it looks so earnest. “So we’re good?”

Riley nods, feeling ten pounds lighter. “Yeah. We’re good.”

—

The dam breaks on day four.

Riley is speed-walking through the halls, almost late. The bell will ring literally any minute from now, but damned if she’s going to track city slush all over the auditorium’s nice flooring. With any luck, she’ll have just enough time to shove them in her locker and bolt for the auditorium. Riley rounds the corner.

Her feet and her heart stop in their tracks.

There, down the hall, unmistakably stands Lucas James Friar, attempting to hurriedly slip something in her locker.

Lucas.

Lucas closes her locker, and before she can do anything, turns in her direction.

Their eyes lock.

Lucas looks as frozen as Riley feels, an electric current between their stares. In that moment, as other students brush past her, she’s suspended in time, the only sound her heartbeat, thumping loudly in her ears. Neither of them can move. She’s pretty sure neither of them can breathe.

And then Lucas turns and takes off down the hall, disappearing in the crowd.

Riley takes a deep breath, feeling the air shake as it leaves her mouth. Go after him. Go after him. Go—

The bell rings.

—

Riley finds him the next morning, hanging— hiding?— in the booth. Lucas rather spectacularly managed to avoid her the rest of the day, by virtue of skipping again.

With Dylan and, yes, now Asher, off sick, Riley didn’t have a way to get a hold of Lucas. She had asked Isadora, faux-casual, but Isa had just shrugged and gone back to storyboarding her latest idea.

“Lucas James Friar,” Riley says now, determinedly. “I just want to talk. And honestly, I think you owe me that much.”

Lucas is quiet for a long moment. Then he nods, once, jerkily. He won’t meet her eyes.

“How did you know about the pastry?” she asks, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, feeling suddenly shy.

Lucas pushes the toe of his boot into the ground. “Overheard you telling Charlie about it. I, um, I saw that your locker was broken that morning, too. I just wanted to—”

He cuts himself off. Riley waits patiently.

“Fuck,” Lucas hisses. “You— you weren’t supposed to find out it was me. I didn’t want… to be weird. I just wanted you to have… you weren’t supposed to find out it was me.”

Riley’s chest is fluttering. She coughs, trying to dispel the tension in the air. “Well,” she says, “I’m glad I did.”

Lucas looks up sharply, finally meeting her eyes. It’s a soft jolt of electricity— down her spine, in her fingertips. They’re a lot closer then she realized. Less than a foot of space between their chests— between their mouths.

“Can I kiss you?” she murmurs. Lucas blinks, like his brain is catching up with his ears, and splutters, taking an instinctive step back. His legs bump the booth’s equipment.

A rush of regret courses through her. “Sorry! I just…” she trails off. Not really any possible excuses to save her on that one— she made her intentions pretty clear.

“No, no—” Lucas blurts out. He kicks at the dirt with the toes of one scuffed boot, like he’s regaining his cool. “I mean. Um. Yeah. You can.”

Riley beams, and Lucas looks kind of dazed again, all of a sudden, and she tentatively leans in, feels his hands take hers, links their fingers together, and catches his mouth in a sweet, gentle kiss.

It’s really nice. Tentative— she’s pretty sure Lucas doesn’t exactly have any experience with this, and Riley’s own experience is limited to close-mouthed spin-the-bottle in middle school. But it’s nice.

When they break away, they don’t let go of each other’s hands. She can’t help but smile even wider.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Thanks for the pen.”

#happy secret santa i rlly hope u like it jany!#ambitionsource #ambition #riley x lucas #riley matthews #lucas friar

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nothesc · 4 years ago

Text

I’m dating someone. A Damira fic.

Alright so, It’s been so long since I’ve written a fic but Damira is making me do it again. And since today’s clips sucked I decide to write my take on how Dani and Amira telling the truth to Cris should’ve gone.

I’ve written it in English and in Spanish so this one will be in English and I’ll post the Spanish one next. Since I’m Spanish and the show is Spanish it just felt right.

Hope you enjoy it and please don’t be too hars on me ‘cause I don’t know if it’ll be good.

You can also read it on Ao3

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

Dani checks the time on his phone for the fifth time in the last minute. He’s not as nervous as he was on Saturday with the list in his pocket, or yesterday when Amira touched his hand, but that doesn’t mean he’s not scared about his heart being about to get out of his chest right now. He knows he can’t wait much longer or he’ll be late so he finally decides to get out of his room.

Cris is on the sofa, she’s been there since they had lunch. Dani is not stupid, he knows that his sister is not okay. Something is going on with Joana and their relationship, but he also knows that Cris only tells stuff when she’s ready to do so and that if you pressure her, in the end you won’t get anything from her so he decides not to ask her about it, thought he won’t stop looking out for her.

“Are you going to stand there the whole afternoon or are you going somewhere?” It’s not until Cris speaks that Dani realizes that, in fact, he’s been staring at her for a while now, not saying anything.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…I want to talk to you”

“I can’t now, I’m studying “ Cris says not looking up from the book. She actually has spent more time looking at her phone than studying but she’s trying.

“It has to be now, Cris” her brother insists.

“Dani, we’ll talk later, alright? I have to study”

“Cris, please”

Cris notices something in Dani’s voice that makes her realize that her brother really wants to tell her something important.

“You’re scaring me, what happened? Is it Joana? Did the hospital call? Is she worse? Why haven’t they call me instead?”

Cris is talking so fast that Dani is finding it difficult to understand her, but he does. He watches his sister standing up from the sofa ready to run but he stops her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Relax, it’s not Joana, nothing��s happened, nothing bad”

“You asshole! You scared me” Cris goes back to sit on the sofa, calmer this time. When she looks up at her brother who’s still standing in front of her she frowns at his face’s expression. “Dani, what’s wrong? What do you want to tell me? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this serious.

“It’s just…I don’t know where to start.”

“Start from the beginning”

Dani smiles shyly. From the beginning, that’s how his speech through the door to Amira began just a week ago, and the truth is it didn’t go bad at all, so he decides to obey his sister and start with the basics.

“I’m dating someone”

Cris has always been known for having big and expressive eyes but Dani can swear he’s never seen them as wide as they’re now.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Cris sits on her feet to be a little taller so she can almost reach Dani’s eyes since he’s still standing “When you say you’re dating someone, what do you mean exactly? You’re hooking up with someone or…”

“I mean I have a girlfriend”

Dani can’t see himself right now but he’s sure that he’s blushing as if they were at 45 degrees in the room. It’s the first time he’s used the word girlfriend to refer to Amira and he’d be lying if he said he’s feeling a kind of happiness he can’t even explain.

“Girlfriend? You?” Cris can’t help but laughing a bit, this is the last thing she expected from her brother.

“Yes, girlfriend, me, so what?”

“Nothing, fuck, nothing, it’s just that…I’m surprised. You’ve never had a girlfriend before”

“Well, you neither until Joana and now look at you”

“I mean, I know, but my relationship with Joana is super serious”

“So is mine”

“But…how serious?” Cris doesn’t want to look like she doesn’t believe him but she didn’t even know her brother liked a girl and now he has a serious girlfriend.

“The most serious a relationship can be”.

“Fuck, Dani, it’s not like you’re getting married” Cris says laughing at her brother’s seriousness when talking. When he doesn’t say anything Cris looks at him and sees him biting his lip. For a moment Cris panics. “Dani, tell me you’re not going to get married”

“No, shit, Cris, no, I’m not getting married” Dani sees how his sister relaxes but decides to add: “for now”.

Dani was wrong, Cris’ eyes could, in fact, get wider, like they’re right now.

“What the fuck, Dani? How long have you been dating this chick that you’re already thinking about marrying her in the future?”

Dani doesn’t get to answer the question because suddenly someone’s knocking at the door. When Dani doesn’t move to answer the door Cris stands up and goes to the door, stopping to warn her brother that he’s going to answer her question when she gets back.

“Amira? What are you doing here? Were we meeting today?” For a moment Cris panics when she sees her friend at her door thinking that maybe she screwed up again and forgot that they were meeting.

“No, no, don’t worry, we didn’t agree to meet” Amira assures her, hiding her hands behind her back so Cris doesn’t see that she’s shaking.

“Well, don’t stay there, come in” Cris turns around and leads the way to the living room where Dani is. “You’ve come just in time, Dani was telling me about his girlfriend. And hear this, he’s planning on marrying her and all. I can’t believe this”

“Fuck, Cris, I didn’t say I’m going to get married” Dani says quickly, more to calm Amira who looks like she’s about to have a heart attack, than to make Cris understand. “I’ve just said that my relationship with this girl is serious and that, well yeah, in the future I’d like to marry her, if she wants to”

“Do you understand any of this? Because I swear I don’t get it” Cris asks Amira who all she can do is shrug, not knowing what do say. “Well, then, when am I meeting this wonderful girlfriend my brother is in love with?”

“Well, you’ll see…” Dani looks at Amira waiting for her to say something but she looks as lost as he is so he decides to keep talking himself. “The thing is…you already know her”

“Really?” Cris frowns thinking for a second about who her brother might be talking about when suddenly something hits her and she almost jumps in surprise. “Tell me it’s not Eva, please”

“What? No, no, no, no, no. I mean, no. Eva and I, we’re nothing. We never were. What happened at Lucas’ party was a mistake. I thought the girl I liked didn’t like me back and when Eva kissed me I just went along with it but I realized instantly that I was screwing up and stopped her. It didn’t mean anything. I even texted her to tell her that and apologizing. It didn’t mean anything” Now Dani is the one talking too fast and, looking at Amira, he repeats, “anything”.

Amira bites her lip trying not to laugh at Dani’s panic. She’d be lying if she said that what happened with Eva didn’t hurt but, in the end, they weren’t together so she can’t blame Dani.

“Alright, alright, relax. Well, Eva is a very nice girl, just so you know” Cris says defending her friend. “Well then, who is it?”

Both Dani and Amira know they can’t keep running in circles for much longer, it’s the moment to tell the truth. Still, neither of them dare to say anything and all they can do is looking at each other, not realizing that’s a big mistake since, once they lock eyes ,they just can’t look away.

It takes Cris a few seconds to put two and two together and, when she does, all she can do is scream:

“No fucking way! Amira? You’re dating Amira?” Cris, who now has both Amira and Dani’s attention, looks from one to another without stopping, trying to understand what’s going on. “Are you dating my brother? What the fuck? I mean, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. I mean yeah, I’ve spent my whole life saying that you guys are goals and that you’re getting married but fuck I didn’t think it would become true. I’m just…what?”

At this point, Cris is more talking to herself than to Amira and Dani, who can only look at her waiting for the end of her monologue.

“What the fuck? I mean, since when? I mean, wait, wait, wait, because now I’m realizing some stuff. That’s why you wanted to leave the party so fast?” She’s asking this question to Amira who tries to answer but Cris doesn’t let her, she keeps on going with her rant. “Because you saw my brother hooking up with Eva and it bothered you. Of course, fuck, now everything makes sense. Oh god and I was an asshole to you and left you alone and you were robbed. Fuck, what a night you had, Ami. And you…” She turns to Dani who’s not sure if he should be concerned or amused by her sister’s reaction, he’s never heard her saying so many words in a row “That’s why you were so annoying with the damn rugby, right? ‘Cris I want to do something good, Cris I want to help’ Fuck you, you wanted to have an excuse to see Amira. Oh my god, but, how did I know realize sooner? Well…since when are you two together?”

Dani and Amira look at each other, not knowing if they should answer or not.

“Well, are you going to say something or…?”

“Fuck, sis, you started ranting and it’s not like you let us add anyting” Dani says laughing.

“Well, I just found out that my brother and my best friend want to marry each other, I’m sorry if I let myself be shocked for a while”.

“Oh my god, we’re not getting married. I mean, we are. Or I don’t know. That’s not the thing”. Dani takes a deep breath and looks at Amira, instantly he feels like he can deal with this. “The thing is that Amira and I like each other, and we’re dating, and it’s not a hookup and that’s it. No. We’re serious about each other. Very serious. And well…we want to have your support.”

Now Cris is the one that takes a deep breath. She looks at her brother, then at Amira and then back at her brother.

“Do you even know what you’re getting yourselves into?

“That’s what I asked your brother before we started dating” Amira says for the first time since they entered the living room. “And the truth is we probably don’t know what we’re really getting into but…” Amira looks at Dani and what she feels in that instant is enough to make her finish the sentence. “we’re willing to try”

“We’ve talked about this, we know what we want and we need. And we know that together we can handle anything” Dani adds, repeating what it seems like it’s his favorite sentence.

“But we want you to support us Cris, because you’re one of the most important person in our lives.” Amira takes a step forward and takes Cris’ hand. “Please tell us what you think”.

“Are you happy?” Cris asks Amira who nods with a smile. Looking at her brother she repeats the question. “And you?”

“More than ever” Dani affirms.

“Then I don’t have anything else to say. I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t think this is going to be easy. I think that…you’re going to have to work a lot in this relationship. But every relationship needs work and, if you guys love each other, that’s what matters.

Amira can stop herself and hugs Cris as tightly as she can. Cris’ hugs her back and when they pull apart she goes and hugs her brother who kisses her forehead.

“One thing though”, Cris says warningly pointing at them with her finger. “Damira might be real but I’m still Amira’s favorite”

Amira can’t help but laugh and hug her friend again. “Of course, Amiris is the realest thing ever”.

“Hey, hey, hey, what about Crisani?” Dani says trying to look offending, but the truth is that seeing his sister and his girlfriend hugging he feels like his heart is about to explode with happiness.

“Crisani?” Amira scrunches her nose in disgust.

“My god, bro, thank god you’re not in charge of names”

Dani rolls his eyes and messes with Cri’s hair.

“Hey! Stop doing that” Cris fixes her hair and after a few seconds of looking at her brother and Amira she can’t stop herself from saying. “OH MY GOD! My brother and my best friend. We’re sisters in law Ami! Oh my god!”

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

Thanks for reading!!!

#Skam España #Damira #Amiris

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waywardodysseys · 5 years ago

Text

Victory - Oneshot

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Warnings: cussing, teasing

Requested?: Yes from this ask by @bloggerchic14 - I was hoping if you can do one where reader is nominated for best director at the Oscars and she didn’t expect to win but when she does ends up in shock and Pedro ends up walking up stage with her. They then end up at the Vanity fair party and reader parties hard and teases Pedro. Thank you ☺️

Author’s note: none

~ ~ ~

You’re jittery as you sit in the limo. You breathe in and out trying to calm your nerves. Your hands running over the simple black strapless gown you are wearing.

The man sitting next to you places his hand on your arm, trying to calm you.

“We haven’t even walked the red carpet,” your dad whispers.

You swallow, “you aren’t the one nominated for an award. Talk is I could win. I won at the Golden Globes, the BAFTAs – which was still surprising, the Critics’ Choice Awards. An Oscar would complete the shelf of the other awards.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, “they aren’t on a shelf. You use them as bookends or paperweights.”

You shrug and laugh, “you know what I mean.”

You had taken a family member or a close friend as your date to each awards show. You took your mother to the Golden Globes (your mom nearly fainted when she met Tom Hanks), your best friend to the BAFTAs (this included a well-deserved girls trip), your sibling to the Critics’ Choice Awards (which they found dull, but they got to meet their celebrity crush), and your father’s now going with you to the Oscars.

Your father and mother had bickered about what awards show they would attend with you. You had picked the Golden Globes and the Oscars for them because those award shows meant the most to you.

They eventually drew straws. Your mother getting the Golden Globes, and your father getting the Oscars.

You knew they couldn’t be more prouder of you when you had told them you had been nominated for directing your first movie.

“We’re ecstatic for you honey!”

“Over the moon!”

“Proud of our baby girl!”

“We knew you could do it!”

They both had exclaimed when you called them to tell them the news of each nomination.

Now with three awards under your belt you were ready to claim the fourth but also feared you weren’t going to get it. You’re up against some big names – Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, and David Lynch. You are the newcomer, the first timer. It would be a rarity for the Academy to award you when they could easily go with an oldie tried and true person who has been directing nearly their entire life.

The door opens and your father looks at you, “ready?”

You smile weakly, “I guess. Let’s do this.”

-------

Inside the Dolby Theatre celebrities are mingling as you and your father are escorted down one of the many aisles towards your seats. The usher pauses at the fifth row up from the stage.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the usher smiles, “here are your two seats. Enjoy!”

“Thank you kindly,” your father remarks as the usher disappears.

You breathe a sigh of relief at being on the aisle. You didn’t want to parade down an entire row of people in case your name was called when they announced the winner.

Several people were familiar to you as you looked around, most of them your cast. They all greeted you with smiles and hugs.

Sarah Paulson pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I’m betting big on you tonight,” Sarah whispers as she pulls away.

“Please don’t tell me that!” You laugh.

“They’d be wrong not to give you the damn award. You’re the first female director to be nominated in a few years and your first nomination ever!” Sarah retorts.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply as the lights begin to dim and brighten which indicated five minutes to show time, “no Holland?”

“She’s working. I brought Pedro,” Sarah looks around the theatre, “he’s here somewhere. Hopefully he’s here before the show begins.”

Right before the orchestra begins playing you hear a light “excuse me” from beside your father, who took the aisle seat.

Your father stands then you do.

The man nods at your father, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” your father whispers as he sits.

The man then looks at you and smiles, “thank you.”

You nod your head and smile in return. You hadn’t met Pedro Pascal prior to this evening. He was someone you were wanting to work with because of seeing him in Narcos. Sarah had even praised him when you two were discussing your next movie one day.

“Pedro would be fantastic!” Sarah had exclaimed.

“I’ve seen his work in Narcos, nothing else.” You had remarked.

“He’s versatile. Done plenty of stage work, movies, T.V. shows. If you are wanting to do a modern reimagining of The Lady Eve, I think you should reach out to Pedro’s people. You won’t regret it.” She had leaned in and whispered, “he loves that movie. One of his faves.”

Now you glance at Sarah as you take a seat. She gives you a sly smile. You know she remembers your conversation as well. She wants you to meet Pedro and show you he deserves to be directed by you.

“Pedro this is Y/N,” Sarah remarks a couple of hours into the show.

Pedro smiles at you and holds out his hand, “I know who she is Sarah. Yet I haven’t met her.”

You take his hand and shake it. “Nice to meet you Pedro.”

“She wants to direct a modern reimagining of The Lady Eve,” Sarah implies with a smile towards you.

Pedro turns his dark brown eyes to you. Their opened wide and his face is a look of seriousness. “Really?”

You blush and smile, “yes.”

“How would you tell it?”

“I’m thinking of having the man play the con artist,” you reply.

“Are you working on a script? Or have someone working on one?” Pedro asks eagerly.

You laugh, “Phoebe Waller-Bridge and I are working on a script together.”

“I’d love to read it! Even audition!” Pedro smiles widely.

You glance at him, “I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Oh, come on!” Pedro laughs.

“Y/N,” your father whispers, “your category is up next.”

Right, you think as your heart begins pounding loudly inside of your chest.

Pedro squeezes your hand and whispers, “good luck.”

You smile in return then move your eyes to the stage.

Natalie Portman smiles brightly for the camera as she reads the teleprompter, “the nominees for best director are: David Lynch, Y/F/N Y/L/N, Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg and Quentin Tarantino.”

Your eyes are on the screen as small clips from each of the movies are played. You shrink in your seat as you watch a cameraman kneel beside your row and place the lens on you.

“You’re okay,” your father whispers as he leans over, “breathe.”

You try but you know one of the men will get it. They’ll go with the tried and true who have won before. Not the debut director, not the newcomer.

“The Oscar goes to,” a pause as the envelope is opened, “wow! The Oscar goes to Y/F/N Y/L/N!”

Natalie Portman said my name, you think as tears flood your eyes. My name? My name!

Everyone around you stands and applauds. The whole theatre stands to their feet and applauds.

Your father leans down and touches your shoulder.

“You have to go get it,” he says with a smirk.

You nod as you stand.

Sarah’s right there and embraces you tightly, “told you!”

Pedro’s pushed back against his folded seat as he lets Sarah hug you. He winks at you as you pull away from Sarah and turn towards the aisle.

The thundering applause fills your ears as you begin to take a step up the stairs towards Natalie and the Oscar. You’re focused on making sure you don’t trip yet you do.

You laugh as you sit up and smile. Pedro’s right there with a hand to help you up.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers in return.

He tries to let your hand go but you’re gripping it tightly. Your nerves are getting the best of you.

Pedro smiles as he hooks your hand in the crook of his arm. He guides you up the remaining stairs, escorting you towards Natalie and the microphone. The Oscar statue you are about to claim as yours.

Once Natalie embraces you and hands you the award, Pedro takes a step back and lets you have the spotlight. The applause dies down as people take their seats and you wring your hands around the Oscar you now have in your possession.

You wipe at your tears, “Um, there’s so many to thank. I apologize beforehand if I forget anyone,” you pause, “I’d like to thank the Academy. Paramount Studios for taking a chance on me and this movie I love. Plan B productions for a chance as well. The amazing crew I was placed with, thank you. My wonderful cast – Hugh Laurie, Katie Holmes, Emily Blunt, Sterling K. Brown, and Sarah Paulson. Thank you. As well as to the other amazing cast members I appreciate you all. To my close friends and my dear family I can never thank you enough for loving me for me, and supporting me for when I wanted to come out here and start directing. From T.V. shows to the big screen, directing will always be my passion. To all the girls out there wanting to direct, take a chance and follow your dreams, follow your heart. I will be your biggest supporter.” You smile widely and raise the Oscar in the air, “thank you again!”

The entire theatre erupts in applause as you walk off the stage with Natalie and Pedro.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as Natalie releases you from the hug she gave you once you were in line to make your way to the media room.

“Congrats again!” She smiles.

“Thanks,” you smile in return.

Your eyes watch her walk away then land on Pedro who was stopped by Kit Harrington. You had hoped you’d be able to talk to him more. You wanted to talk to him more. You wanted to thank him properly for being there to help you up the stairs.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Someone with a headset on their head draws your face back around.

You hum and raise a brow.

“The press is ready.”

You smile, “thanks.”

The person opens the curtain and the cameras start flashing as you walk in. You take one glance back at Pedro hoping he’s going to the same after party as you are.

-------

The Vanity Fair after party is in full swing after the limo driver took your father home. He didn’t want to spend all night out on the town, which you preferred because you were going to party hard for as long as you could before returning in the wee hours of the night. And there was someone you needed to cross paths with again – Pedro.

Inside you are swarmed by actors and actresses congratulating you, wanting to know what you’re doing next, wondering if they could give you a call about auditioning for anything you do in the future. They give you glasses of champagne. Toasting you over abundantly, making you sip on the frothy and bubbly liquid. It’s all overwhelming until you feel a hand grasp yours and pull you away.

“Give her a chance to breathe!” Sarah nearly shouts as she drags you away from the horde of people.

You giggle as Sarah pulls you away and into a corner. She swipes two glasses of champagne off a tray from a passing by waiter.

Sarah clinks her glass to yours, “congrats!”

“Thanks,” you smile not bothering to take a sip. “I’ve had too much of this.”

“Understandable,” Sarah pauses as she gulps down her glass then takes yours, “so, Academy Award winner director Y/F/N Y/L/N directing a remake of The Lady Eve starring Pedro Pascal…”

You giggle, “where is he by the way?”

“Oh, your rescuer?” Sarah giggles loudly. She’s had a little too much alcohol already. “He’s here somewhere. He saw you trip, and zoom did he go to rescue you. When he got back to the seat I whispered, ‘her dad’s right there Pedro.’”

“What was his reaction?”

“’Well at least I scored brownie points with him.’” Sarah laughs.

You giggle as the alcohol courses through your veins. You place a hand on your stomach when it growls. You realize it’s empty, and you’re starving.

“Is there food here?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Yeah but it’s mostly finger foods,” Sarah smiles, “here he is!”

Pedro smiles as he hands Sarah a napkin, “food.”

“Share with the lady,” Sarah points at you as she swallows a couple of cheese cubes.

Pedro smiles at you and holds out another napkin. It’s filled with cheese cubes, crackers, even a chocolate covered strawberry.

“Hey,” Pedro pouts, “the strawberry was mine!”

You smile as you bite a small piece, “have the rest.”

“You may the whole thing. It’s not like I fought a swarm of people to get just one!”

You finish the decadent dessert. Not sure if it’s the alcohol or not, you lean over and brush your lips across his.

Pedro inwardly moans as he tastes the chocolate strawberry on your lips. He swipes his tongue across your lips. He tastes the champagne once you let him in.

You pull back breathlessly and look into Pedro’s deep brown eyes. “I, uh, I…”

Pedro smiles, reaches out, and runs a finger down your cheek, “it’s okay.”

Sarah is able to tell she’s no longer needed. “I’m gonna leave you two to it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” you and Pedro say in unison. His eyes and your eyes are one another.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” you say after seconds of silence.

Pedro grins lopsidedly, “you’re welcome. I do hope at least it scored me some brownie points.”

“Why?”

“I want to be a part of The Lady Eve.”

“Script’s not done. And I’m currently working with Netflix on a series.”

“I’d like to be forefront and center when you go to producers. Tell them Pedro Pascal needs to be in this movie, will be in this movie,” he remarks with a laugh.

“Are you desperate for a role where one sees your face?” You ask.

Pedro raises an eyebrow, “I was informed you’ve only seen Narcos from my long resume.”

“I see you and Sarah have talked.”

Pedro shrugs, “I inquired about you on the way here. She’s the one who worked with you. She even raved about you while you were filming. Said you were extremely kind and knew what you were doing, what you wanted and needed from the cast and crew.”

“Glad to know at least one person likes me,” you jokingly laugh.

“Everyone likes you Y/N,” Pedro remarks. “You’re kind, sweet. A great kisser.”

You inwardly laugh then run your hand up Pedro’s arm. “You’re too kind Pedro, too sweet.”

Pedro holds in his moan as your hand runs up his arm then over his chest and down his stomach.

You lean forward and brush your mouth against his. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull you close, deepening the kiss. You moan as his hands travel up and down your back, occasionally touching your bare skin.

Heat rises in your body as you move your hands across his shoulders down his chest. You finally loop them around his neck and run your fingers through his hair.

Pedro pulls faintly away. He looks into your Y/E/C eyes. He leans down and nuzzles your neck. Your skin is delicate and warm.

“Pedro,” you moan lowly as his mustache tickles your skin.

You snake a hand down his chest. You run it teasingly over his crotch and find him hard.

Fuck, your mind screams as pleasure intensifies inside of you.

Pedro hisses as he pulls back, “you’re a tease too. A wicked tease.”

“You are too Pedro,” you remark as you press your body against his.

You want Pedro, need Pedro. Your body is aching to have his mouth and hands all over it.

You would never have the courage to be this blunt, but with the alcohol pumping through your veins you do. You look at Pedro in seriousness, “please get me out of here Pedro. I need you in more ways than one. If you know—”

Pedro kisses you soundly and grabs your hand as he pulls you towards the exit, “I know what you mean Y/N. I want to get us both out of here so we’re able to enjoy each other fully especially with our clothes off.”

You knew this was going to be a night you’d never forget – you won your Oscar, and you had the ultimate lap of victory when you and Pedro finally made it into his bed - sans clothes.

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest, @cosmo-bear, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @knight-of-heart44, @caitlincat-95, @random066, @readsalot73, @arrowswithwifi, @halefirewarrior, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @stardust-and-starlight, @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead, @longitud-de-onda, @jokersdoll, @earl-01, @ezraslittlebirdie, @bonkybaaarnes

#victory oneshot #request #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #oneshot #sarah paulson #oscars

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tellywoodtrash · 4 years ago

Text

immj2 08 + 09.11.20 lbs

08.11.20

lmaoooooooo i really love the ice cold way siya operates in. truly a raisinghania sib!

“siya chal sakti hai!!!” behen, iss ghar mein tumhare dimaag ki alaava sab kuch chalta hai.

dadi trying to cheer raja band baja hua beta up with his favt. chole bhature. he doesn't seem like the kind who'd eat that kinda food, but ok.

CHOLE BHATURE ARE NOT CHEERING HIM UP. MATLAB MAAMLA SERIOUS HAIIIIII.

lmao he's literally twisting and turning in place like kids do when they have a tantrum. i mean, i like it. it shows a more human side to the character, ki just how much anguish and helplessness he's feeling.

dadi like babe, you can't control everything in life, stop being such a bloody control freak ki things not going your way turn you like this.

blah blah anguished rant on how he lost something so important to him.

dadi giving cliche ~~~if it's meant to be yours, it'll come back to you~~~ advice. which is kinda working on him. huh. all kindsa out of sorts behaviour.

“jab tuney kisi ke saath galat nahi kiya hai, toh tere saath galat kyun hoga?” uh okkkkkkkkkkk, that's not how life works. bad shit happens to good ppl all the time. also, he's done lotsa galat shit ok. what did riddhima do for this fucker to paralyse her huh?????? YEH SAB USSI KA NATEEJA HAI. BHUGAT AB.

carbs therapy. BEST HAI. ALWAYS WORKS. IT'S SCIENCE, BITCHES.

dadi saying why don't you talk to riddhima about your issues, and lol he's whining about she dgaf about him coz she left him alone last night when he asked her not to.

dadi left praying ki hey bhagwaan these two fucks’ relationship is in your hands now, this is beyond human interference.

kabir being informed of new developments and accusation of kidnapping ragini is being heaped on siya. BASED ON WHAT EVIDENCE YOU STUPID TWIT??????? THAT SHE CAN WALK??????? SO CAN EVERYONE ELSE YOU KNOW!!!!!!!!!!

“mujhe usse vansh ke aage expose karna hoga.” LMAO BITCH EXPOSE YOURSELF FIRSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

“tum kya mujhe expose karogi? expose toh main tumhe karungi!” YES SIYAAAAAAAAA FUCK HER UPPPPPPPPPP

NOICE. WE LOVE A FIERCEASS SISTER WHO’S READY TO KILL FOR HER SIBLINGS. ESP. WHEN IT’S THE SCARY BIG BROTHER WHO’S EVERYONE’S PROTECTOR.

siya saying she just miraculously got cured a few days ago, and was waiting to surprise everyone. sounds sus, but whatever.

but also what kinda terrribleasssssss physiotherapist is riddhima that she didn’t even identify her patient’s progress?????

LMAO SIYA POL KHOLING OF VANSH BHAIYYA SAYING HE MADE HER DO ALL THE SHADY MASK SHIT. “TO KEEP RIDDHIMA SAFE”. haaaan behen, khooooob safe rakha tumne, baar baar behosh karke. pehle se hi iska dimaag nahi chalta, now you’ve managed to give her some kinda degenerative brain disease.

i love how vansh didn’t bother to ask siya how she stopped riddhima’s plans and knocked her out multiple times if she’s in a wheelchair. there’s literally only one person in a wheelchair in this house?!?!?!!!!!! wouldn’t riddhima KNOW who the person in the mask is???? god vansh. you’re such a dumbass.

lellllllllllllllllllllllllll i am livingggggggggg for siya reading riddhima to filth with a knife in her hand THIS IS THE BEST SCENE OF THIS SHOW YET. esp in her small, child-like voice, it’s fucking amazing.

riddhima admitted to being a spy, AND SIYA RECORDED IT ALSO. OMFG SHE’S MY NEW FAVE CHARACTER I LOVE HER THE MOST.

i wish vansh was the person he is to siya, instead of the fucker he actually is. she literally thinks the worldddddddddddd of him. ugh, i am so soft for this relationshippppppp.

but i also wanna know what the ishani/siya relationship is like? we hardlyyyyyy see them interact. like, we even see aryan push her wheelchair around sometimes, but ishani neverrrrrrr interacts with siya. why????

ugh riddhima managed to convince her that she really cares for vansh and is trying to do the right thing. she’s literally asking her to kill her rn if she doesn’t trust her. baby sis you’re farrrrrrrrr too trusting.

“mera dimaag tumpe trust karne se rok raha hai, riddhima, par jiss dil ne tumhe bhaabi bola haina, woh tumhe ek mauka dena chahta hai. ek aakhri mauka. iss baar mera bharosa mat todna. 24 ghante hai tumhare paas. apni taqdeer badal sako toh badal lo warna yeh audio main vansh bhaiyya ko suna doongi.” SERIOUSLY, WHERE WERE THEY HIDING THIS MOST SAYAANI CHARACTER OF THE SHOW TILLLLLL NOW????????!

riddhima has a condition for siya too. i think i know what it is.

omg vansh IS COLLAR PAKADKE YELLING AT ANGRE IN THE WORST WAYYYYYYY POSSIBLE. god vansh, you’re honestly the fucking worstttttttttttttttttttt. angre you need to take up work with someone else, istg, you don’t deserve this shit. kabir treats his sidekick so much better. yet another point in the kitty for kabir >>>>>> vansh.

seriously, why would you wanna blindfold this dude when he’s in THIS mood????? save it for the bedroom, sis.

empty wheelchair dekh ke he’s yelling at everrrrrrrryone ki how could they leave siya alone somewhere. god. i can’t imagine having to live with such a toxic personality.

everyone in the house is soooooo happy for siya. like, aryan’s not beaming as much as the others, but he does look kinda pleased. BECAUSE SIYA IS BEST CHARACTERRRRRRR OF THIS SHOW EVERYONE LOVESSSS HERRRRR.

oh my heart, i am so softttttttt for sibling shit like this. he’s hugging her with suchhhhhhhhhhhh fierceeee affection, i’m crying happy tearsssssss.

heart eyes for riddhima who supposedly cured her. pls. she did nothing. jo bhi karna tha, siya ne khud kiya hai. iss ridhimma manhoos ko jasoosi se kab fursat mili to do PT with siya and cure her???

siya being gracious and giving credit though. ugh, honestly, this show and this family don’t deserve siya.

lmao she’s saying vansh brought riddhima in though, so actually allll the credit goes to bhaiyya for intimidating this poor woman into treating his sister against her will.

THE AFFECTION. THE SHEER MAGNITUDE OF HIS LOVE FOR HERRRR. I CRIEEE. THIS IS THE ONLY RELATIONSHIP THAT MATTERS TO ME IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHOW.

anupriya giving some fakeass congrats. i hope siya tells vansh that she was the one who pushed her down the stairs a while back. aur kuch nahi toh just for that vansh is gonna kill her dead.

riddhima and vansh still all tense and sad about the ragini thing. OUFF JUST LIVE IN THE MOMENT YOU FUCKS.

I LOVE HER. I FUCKING LOVE HER. BEST RAISINGHANIA HAI YEH.

———————————————————————

09.11.20

riddhima back at kabir’s to try and find ragini. ughhhhhhhhh i’m just so done with this nonsense. we already KNOW that kabir and anupriya still have her based on the precap from like 2, 3 days ago.

lol kabir is so pissed at riddhima and her dimaag chalaana. a mood we ALL share.

kabir trying to turn riddhima against siya and riddhima’s like NOOOO SHE COULD NEVER, “USKI AANKHEIN USKI AWAAAZ SAAF SAAF KEH RAHI THI KI WOH SACH BOL RAHI HAI!” uh huh, yeah, like kabir’s are rn????? and vansh’s were before he paralysed you? just a suggestion i’m throwing out there: is it possible that perhaps, just maybe, you’re just very fucking stupid, riddhima, and tend to trust people too easily????

OUFF I’M SO BORED WITH THIS SCENE. we already know from the precap that ragini will knock down a vase but riddhima will never find out what caused it and kabir will make some lame excuse she’ll believe. FWDING TO NEXT.

JESUS CHRISTTTTTTTT, SIYA IS JUST WALKING AROUND THE HOUSE RANDOMLY LISTENING TO THAT AUDIO CLIP OF RIDDHIMA’S CONFESSION. AND SHE WALKS RIGHT INTO VANSH, WHO’S LIKE HUH, WHAT’S THAT RIDDHIMA IS SAYING?????

siya brushes it off saying its exercise stuff for her PT. sure. uh huh.

OH MY HEART HE GOT HER HEEEEEEELS, WHICH SHE’S ALWAYSSSSSSS WANTED. THIS BHAIYYA-BABY RELATIONSHIP IS GONNA TAKE ME DOWN GODDAMNITTTT. ITNE DIN BAAAAAAAAAAAD ITNI ACHCHI SIBLING FEELS MILI HAI ITV SEEEEEEE.

bhaiyya knows baby enough ki she’s hiding something from himmm. oh noeeeeeeeeeee.

damn, siya a real one. didn’t give out riddhima’s secret coz she wants to give her a fair chance. again, this show does not deserve this character. she’s too good for it.

she says she just believes in him and knows he’ll find whoever murdered mom.

SOFT. SO SOFT. MY HEART IS SO FULL WHENEVER THESE TWO SHOW LOVE TO EACH OTHERRRRR.

idhar ragini ki marammat shuru. y’all are just exhausting me with this bs. isse maarna hai toh maaro already. ainvayi mein time waste.

oh dangggggggg, ragini batting for riddhima. saying i know she’ll fuck y’all up. dang, we love the sisterhood feels of this episode!

“aap ke liye SPECIAL INTEZAAM kiya hai maine.” said with the most polite customer service obsequiousness. I LOVE THIS PSYCHOPATH THE MOSTTTTTTTTTT.

ragini warning them that once vansh finds out everything, they’re as good as dead. wow, spunky!!!! dude i like her as a female lead better than stupid fucking riddhima.

“hmmmmmm, you’re right. lekin usse batayega kaun???” honestly, why do i love his deranged ass so much????

anyway mishra has been delegated the task of stashing her somewhere else i guess. so it’s settled that mishra knows he’s not working for the CBI or whatever and is just a hired goon.

dadi is organizing YET ANOTHER POOJA. lordddddd.

this riddhima and her dumbass mandir jaana excuse that she uses constantly.

“bhagwaan tum jaisi bahu sab ko de!” OMFG DADI PLS, GOD FORBID. ISSE ACHCHA AAPKE BETE KUNWAARE MARR JAAYE!

ugh dadi your bloody pota needs a fucking therapist, it isn’t in riddhima’s hands to fix his 1001 mental issues.

great, mangalsutra almost broke. foreshadowing.

ughhhhh mummy managed to steal the memory card from aryan. FUCKING IDIOT I THOUGHT YOU HAD PUT IT IN THE BLOODY BANK ALREADY, BUT NO. HE WAS STILL HOLDING ON TO IT AND TALKING ABOUT IT LOUDDDDDDDDLY ON THE PHONE. jesusssss, why he so fuckinggggg stupid????

oh now vansh is exclaiming GREATTTTTTT JOB ANGREEEE as if he didn’t tell him to GTFO, THE VERY SIGHT OF YOU DISGUSTS ME yesterday. fuck, i really hate vansh as anything but a brother to siya.

aaaaaaand riddhima was standing behind him and he turned around and in a veryyyyyyy contrived move got his watch caught in her mangalsutra and broke it.

sis freaking about THE APSHAGUN!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s like arre nahi achcha shagun hai, angre got the cctv footage now i’ll know who kidnapped ragini! and sis is like OH GOD NO THE BAD LUCK IS STARTING ALREADY I’M SO DEADDDDDDD

“toh main tumhe kho dungi.”

lmao his face. literally the white guy blinking meme.

god she’s having a freakout about how their shaadi and rishta is in khatra. BITCH THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MS AND INSTEAD THE MOUNTAIN OF LIES YOU ARE SITTING ON AND YOUR EK DARJAN KE INCOMPATIBILITY ISSUES AS INDIVIDUALS.

”tum jaanti ho riddhima, tumahra ek ek aansoon mere liye kitna keemti hain? aisa lagta hai jaise mere dil ke ek tukde ko tod ke alag kar diya ho.”

OH YEAH????? DIDN’T FEEL ANYTHINGGGGG WHEN YOU PARALYSED HER HUH????????? IT’S GONNA BE A LONGASSSSS TIME BEFORE I GET OVER THAT, BITCH BOY.

yeah yeah ok this is a nice moment and all. WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THIS DUDE, HUH?????? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO RUIN ALLLLLLLLLL THE GOOD WILL YOU BUILT UP BY KARWA CHAUTH IN ONEEEEEEE MOMENTTTTTTT?????? fuck, i hate you tellywood men and the shit they put my stupid heart through.

only bappa ki aarti shall fix things now. based on the promo and BTS i’ve seen, things about to get reallllllly realllllllly bad but............ lol let’s wait and watch.

ragini managed to sneak mishra’s phone outta his pocket. SEE????? SO ENTERPRISING!!!!!! I LIKE HER SO MUCH MORE THAN RIDDHIMA. GOD VANSH, THIS IS THE GIRL YOU SHOULD HAVE MARRIED. SHE’S REALLY THE ONE WHO GOT AWAY.

she’s callllllllllling vanshhhh. BUT AARTI KI WAJAAH SE HE CAN’T HEAR THE PHONEEEEEE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

here, have some dhaarmik #couple goals to take the edge off the anxiety till the next episode.

———————————————————————

precap: omfg ragini got through to riddhima and she almost told her that kabir is behind kidnapping her, but kabir got to her and attacked her from the back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DOUBLE OMFG SIYA OVERHEARD MUMMY ON THE PHONE BRAGGING ABOUT KILLING THEIR MOM AND CALLS VANSH TO TELL HIM ABOUT IT!!!!! LIKE SHE TOLD HIM THE NAME ALL CLEARLY AND THAT SHE HEARD IT FIRSTHAND!!!!!!!! VANSH SEEMS TO BE GIVING NO REACTION THO????????????

TELL ME THAT BOTH THESE PHONE CALLS WERE NOT MADE ON SOME FUCKING GHATIYA NETWORK LIKE IDEA AND THE REQUIRED PPL HEAR EVERYTHING THEY NEED TO!!!!!!!! (high hopes, i know. 😔😔😔)

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years ago

Text

Witches, Chapter 29: something of an overdue talk, in a long overdue chapter.

Hey everyone! We’re back at it, hopefully, with a few orders of business.

First things first: I’d like to issue a small warning for a short discussion of past suicidal ideation that pops up during this chapter. Since this series is a retelling, generally most of you do know what’s coming up next and what we’ll run into and to brace ourselves for that. You know about the characters’ past traumas and future choices and know where that pops up, or if it becomes unexpectedly relevant or makes a new parallel, you did at least know in advance that it happened. Phoenix’s occasional oblique allusion to Edgeworth’s “choosing death”, for instance.

As this is not something quite like that and comes up more out of nowhere than usual, I just wanted to make sure that no one is uncomfortably caught off-guard. It felt like something different to me personally as I was writing - whether it’s going to strike any of you as different than other heavier material we’ve had in the past, I can’t say, but I’m erring on the side of caution today. If you’ve got any questions or concerns or anything you want done for content warnings in the future, please do come talk to me and let me know!

On two lighter notes: thank you all for bearing with me through the “oops all Fire Emblem only Fire Emblem” hiatus. It’s been a weird year, obviously. I’m hoping that I can carry on with room in my brain for both.

And finally: Happy UR-1 day! Today is, yes indeed, the exact day that Simon Blackquill is arrested for murder, and in honor of that, have a chapter where I mention him one (1) entire time.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches of Los Angeles Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

Golden Saturday-morning sunlight streams in through the blinds, lighting up the dust particles swirling through the air. The office is colder than Apollo expects for the end of October - colder than it was last year this time - and Phoenix is even wearing a sweater, the shining locket that Apollo hasn’t seen in a while hanging around the outside of the tall collar. “Morning,” Phoenix says, without raising his eyes from what appears to be a manila folder full of newspaper clippings he is perusing. “What’s up?”

Straight to business, then. Apollo is fine with that. He grabs the chair from his desk and drags it around, not directly in front of Phoenix’s desk, but near enough that it will be harder for Phoenix to ignore him.

“Is there any way to break a curse?” he asks, shoving his hands deep in the pocket of his hoodie. If it were this cold in a regular office on a Saturday, that would make sense; save money on heating bills when no clients are coming in. This is just - fae bullshit. The beginning of their seasonal tantrums. Winter only properly begins on the solstice, and Apollo really wishes that the fae of Kurain would respect the astronomical seasons. Stave off the snow until the end of December and end it in March. Don’t allow it to span from October to April.

Phoenix sweeps the scraps of paper all back within the folder and ducks down to set it inside a drawer. “If I knew a way,” he says, rising back up with the magatama in hand and setting it down on his desk with a hard clack, “do you think I would go around looking like I do? You don’t think I would’ve gotten this mess cleaned up a long time ago?”

He doesn’t offer Apollo the magatama for a refresher on what that mess looks like. Maybe he was just making a dramatic point with it. “Oh,” Apollo says, scratching the back of his head, faintly embarrassed by how obvious the answer is if he’d given it a modicum of thought from that perspective. “I guess not.”

“Right,” Phoenix says. “As my understanding goes, you can theoretically maybe mitigate a curse, if you layer another opposing blessing on. I am ‘lucky’” - he makes sarcastic quotation marks to ensure that the bitterness dripping from the word doesn’t go unnoticed, as if Apollo could possibly not notice - “to have known enough fae that I’m saddled with both Fortune and Misfortune, and Life and Death. But I’m also not certain that when you drop those on each other they don’t just each take their own separate niches. I’m not dead, but god knows when I try to go somewhere for a vacation or a day off, I still stumble across crime scenes like nothing else. Stunningly lucky in some aspects, and wildly unfortunate in others. You know me. I don’t need to elaborate too much, do I?”

Apollo nods.

“So that’s the theory, but I don’t think that helps anyway for your purposes, which - this is about Prosecutor Gavin?”

Apollo nods again. Phoenix sighs and rubs his eyes. “Shit,” he says, folding his hands together in front of his face and leaning his head against them. “I - believe me, Apollo, I wish I had some - I wish I had any way to help him.”

And Apollo does believe him. Apollo has to believe him, and believe that Phoenix means well, because he’d go crazier if he wasn’t reminding himself that Phoenix’s most frustrating decisions are born out of good intent. That Phoenix thinks he knows what’s best, but there’s still that old saying about good intentions.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Apollo asks. “You knew before this. You knew before he asked you.”

Phoenix raises his head. “And what does telling him get him? Secure in the knowledge that his brother - who is already in jail by the way, don’t need any more proof of his crimes, he’s already never getting out to be able to hurt anyone ever again - hates him enough to have wished him dead?”

Basically the same reasoning that Klavier had, but Apollo has a counterargument now. “Gives him time to come to terms with it before someone dies!”

“You don’t!” Phoenix slams his palms on the desk. Apollo flinches. Of course everyone is volatile and heated over this topic, but that doesn’t make it easier in the moment that it first gets directed at him from people who are usually frustratingly calm and casual. But Phoenix winces, lifting one of his hands and dragging his fingers through his hair, and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says, and repeats, much quieter, “You - you don’t. Or I never didn’t. I knew from right when it happened that I was cursed; I had three years between then and when Mia died - it - I could’ve had a decade, or two, and it - it wouldn’t have helped. I wouldn’t have felt any differently. Any more come to terms with it. With the thought that I - helped cause—”

His tongue heavy in his mouth, Apollo nods. “But - but wouldn’t it have been worse to find out right after she died?”

“Of course it would have,” Phoenix says blithely. “Of course that - this - is the worst possible alternative. Of course I would’ve said something if I’d known that this was what would happen instead.”

“But you have to have expected that someone would—”

“No, I didn’t,” Phoenix interrupts. “That’s not how this works. You know Klavier. You know how much he doesn’t say, don’t you? How much I don’t - you know what people like us are like. Who’s going to tell him? Sebastian forgets half the time that he even has the Sight. Kay only acts like she knows things. Prosecutor Blackquill spent until two days ago acting like magic isn’t real even when he knew we knew otherwise. Someone who means ill isn going to keep that information to use it, and not to just plainly say something.” He frowns. “Well, usually not. Unless they’re a clumsy interloper stumbling in somewhere they don’t belong and getting themselves fucked over for it too.”

“So other than Means just walking all over everything” - because he wasn’t immersed in this kind of fae etiquette, didn’t grow up in it, learned just enough to spot what he thought were opportunities and ruined himself by it - “you think every other random stranger is just going to respect all these - these weird little rules about what you don’t say?”

“Rules of engagement, basically,” Phoenix says. “Yeah, I do.”

“Prosecutor Gavin told me that you’re cursed,” Apollo says. “Don’t just tell me that’s - that’s the exception that proves the rule, or whatever.”

Phoenix’s expression, smug and trying to dampen that smugness back into something that respects the seriousness of the conversation, tells Apollo that yes, yes that is absolutely what his retort was going to be. Apollo considers screaming. “I’ve been tangled up in this for far too long,” Phoenix says. “I can promise you, I know the patterns. I know the way these things go.”

“And because you’re so much smarter than the rest of us, that makes it okay?” Apollo demands. “To take a gamble and just hope that it won’t go wildly wrong?”

And he wants to, really wants to add, I guess that’s what you do, just gamble with people’s fates, and he doesn’t, and Phoenix’s face still darkens like he knows, like he can read Apollo’s mind. Because every time Apollo ends up arguing with him, that’s always at the core. This playing card that haunts them both, burnt a bridge barely built, and they keep trying to balance on the ashen skeleton of it. “Just because Prosecutor Gavin is too fucked up about everything else to be mad at you for hiding this—”

“I did,” Phoenix says, voice low, eyes narrowed and dark as an evening’s storm clouds, “what I thought would be best, based on my prior experiences of both how curses don’t get talked about, and knowing exactly what it is like to personally live with knowing that I’m cursed. This is not something I want anyone to have to know how it feels.”

“So you think ignorance is bliss,” Apollo says. Klavier said that. Apollo wants to know how Phoenix takes that statement.

“I wouldn’t call it ignorance,” Phoenix says. “It’s not like he, or you, didn’t know what Kristoph was like until you found this out. You know the crime, the verdict, the sentencing - and everything else that Kristoph tried but failed to do. That Kristoph also wanted Klavier dead is only another small piece in the grand scheme of it all.”

Still the same argument that Klavier made; Apollo can’t imagine they discussed it. What brought them to the same conclusion? That they both have lived this strange specific kind of grief? This common ground that they share that is foreign to Apollo.

“Come to terms with - Klavier’s already got to come to terms with the rest of that,” Phoenix continues. “It was obvious during that trial how much Kristoph despised him. He knew that too. He knows that Kristoph ruined more lives than just the people he murdered - that he tried to kill more people than he actually succeeded at - cursed and tried to kill children because he couldn’t have - didn’t want anyone remaining who - who could - could… say…”

If Phoenix hadn’t faltered like that - fumbling and failing to continue, words petering out as he went back over what he just said, his eyes going wide and welling up with horror - then Apollo would have simply assumed that his thoughts were moving too fast for his mouth and he couldn’t keep them straight. It would have been easy to talk right through it, and Apollo wouldn’t think twice. If Phoenix hadn’t showed his own hand, gave the game away. Something too terrible for even seven years of professional poker to hide.

“Mr Wright?” Apollo asks, and Phoenix turns his head, glancing away away, no longer meeting his eyes when less than a minute ago he was staring him down with a cold confident glare. “What - what are you talking about? Vera, and - not someone else? Who else?”

Phoenix makes a tiny shake of his head, and even that little motion is a bright, distinct liar’s red. It lights up his eyes, too, when they dart down to the floor. “Mr Wright?” Apollo repeats. When would this have been? He casts his mind over everything he learned, just a little over a year ago, Phoenix sitting him down to explain seven years of information collected about Kristoph, what he’d done and how he’d tried to cover it up. He tried to kill Drew Misham to tie up that loose end; he cursed and poisoned Vera, two precautions because he wasn’t confident enough in the former, hoping that if she ever left the house she wouldn’t be able to speak to his identity and the forgery he requested. He killed Zak Gramarye seven years later to hide the same. He wanted to eliminate every link in the chain that connected the diary page to him. Its makers Vera and Drew, and Zak who knew he was the first attorney on the case, and then the page got to Phoenix via—

Via—

“Mr Wright,” Apollo says. His voice shakes. “He didn’t—”

“Promise me something, Apollo,” Phoenix says firmly. His mouth is drawn in a tight line but he doesn’t look stern. He looks more like he’s going to cry and is desperately trying to stop himself. “Promise me.”

“Wh - what? I can’t—”

“Promise me, Apollo.”

Not until you tell me what I’m promising, Apollo thinks, Apollo knows is what he should say. He’s been told this enough times; he’s aware of this on his own. Don’t agree to a deal before all the terms are set. Don’t sign the contract before it’s read thoroughly. Rules for lawyers and fae are the same. Just because Phoenix means well doesn’t mean that Apollo agrees with those decisions he makes; certainly not the one they have been discussing, and likely not whatever Phoenix is asking him to agree to.

“Please.”

The air in the office is so cold. Even the sunlight seems cold now. Apollo shivers, hunches himself up further. What does Mia think? Is this secret-keeping so natural to her, easy as breathing once was, because she’s fae and that’s what they are, liars by trick and by trade?

“Just promise me you won’t tell her until I do.”

His mouth dry, Apollo nods and croaks out, “All right. I won’t.”

He almost regrets pushing the issue,regrets ever asking Phoenix why he faltered. Phoenix sits slumped, his hands in his hair, and when he glances back up at Apollo, he looks so exhausted that it reminds him of Klavier last night. Burnt-out and broken, when it’s so rare for either of their masks to break. Rarer for Phoenix not to be positioning himself as the one with all the cards in hand; for him to fall apart, for Apollo to actually see him upset. “Yeah,” he whispers, soft enough that Apollo sits forward to make sure he can hear him. “Everyone involved in getting the diary page from him to me, Kristoph wanted dead, or to make sure he could silence them. Everyone who knew, even if she was - eleven years old, or eight. The girl who made it, and the girl who gave it to me. He fucking hated the Gramaryes. You think he didn’t jump at the opportunity to try and get rid of all of them that he could? That he wouldn’t cast a curse on each one who ever entered his sight?”

“And she” - Apollo’s voice cracks - “she doesn’t know? You didn’t tell her?”

“Shit, no,” Phoenix says. He sounds close to cracking, too, and when he drops his hands to his desk he starts shaking his head, his eyes scrunched closed. “Being a Gramarye has been goddamn enough of a curse for her. She lost all her family and then found out that her grandfather buried her mother’s soul in the woods because he was a monstrous son-of-a-bitch who deserved worse than getting to go out on his own terms by shooting himself in the fucking head—”

Apollo shudders. Phoenix had never before directly stated his opinion on Magnifi, but Apollo could definitely tell he held only disdain for the man. This, though, is more than disdain. This is positively venomous, and more than a bit frightening. Did he always feel like this, and hid it, or is this hatred something that has only come about since last year Trucy came back to the office with her mother’s soul in her hands?

“—so yeah, on top of that, I’m definitely going to tell her that the same man who killed her father cursed her just because of the accident of who her family is.”

“B-but—” Apollo doesn’t quite know what he’s arguing. He also doesn’t know where all of his prior conviction went. Of course Klavier should have been told - because he found out in the worst way possible - and Trucy - to take a gamble with her too - that’s got to be just as wrong— “Nine-Tails Vale,” he says suddenly. “We went there, and then there was a murder - that - that’s - is that like—”

“Like what happens to me?” Phoenix asks. “What happens with a curse? Yes. That’s how it goes.”

“And you - you’re not going to - to tell her? Ever? In case - in case something happens to her like with Klavier, or—” Too many thoughts are playing in his head, and the next one grabs hold of him and pivots him away from the point he was going to make about maybe why Trucy should know. “The concert,” he says. “When we went to the concert, Trucy and I, and Klavier was there too of course but that’s - Romaine LeTousse was murdered. They’re both cursed and they - wait, was Klavier cursed then? That was before…”

Did Klavier know when it happened? Did he tell Apollo? He’d said that Phoenix had seen him twice since the trial last October. Presume then that Kristoph cursed him then. The last time the brothers saw each other, and that doesn’t make one bit of sense.

“How could Kristoph have cursed him?” Apollo asks, and he doesn’t miss a momentary flash of panic that passes over Phoenix, his eyes popping wide for half a second and a loud, sharp intake of breath. “Klavier always has iron on him. He gave me—” He looks down at his hand, and then back up, to Phoenix’s lifted eyebrows. Apollo sticks his hand back in his pocket. “What’s the point in iron if it doesn’t actually save you from being cursed?”

Phoenix is obviously trying not to move. He knows Apollo is watching him, waiting for a twitch, anything to pounce on and draw an answer out of him. Staring steadily back at Apollo, he barely blinks; he rests his folded arms on his desk and his fingers curl just a little tighter into where he’s gripping his arm. Apollo is right to be asking these questions. He’s getting closer to something that Phoenix is hiding.

“Or it does,” Apollo says. The veins on the back of Phoenix’s hand flex from his grip. Apollo thinks about someone else with a tense hand and secrets. “And he couldn’t have been cursed then, at Vera’s trial, if it does. So then Mr Gavin hated him that much before then.” Phoenix blinks placidly, but he doesn’t adopt his lazy-eyed gaze. Too serious even for that. “And you lied,” Apollo adds. “You lied about when.”

Phoenix flinches. It’s just a tiny one, pulling his head back, the muscles in his jaw and neck tightening, but Apollo can’t miss the light show. Can’t miss that the lie is bleeding out of him.

He finds himself on his feet, not stepping any closer to Phoenix’s desk, just needing the height, just needing to move a little to stop the shaking in his hands and in his chest, a trembling that goes right down to his heart. “He knew already that he’s cursed! Why did you keep lying to him!”

“I didn’t lie to him,” Phoenix says evenly, but very quietly, and Apollo wants to go over and slam his fists on the desk and make him stop with these hollow justifications, make him face what he’s done couched in none of his winding words. “I just didn’t correct his assumption.”

“That’s lying!” Apollo shouts. “That’s still lying! That’s what happened in Mayor Tenma’s trial! Do you remember that? Do you care!”

“Don’t accuse me of not caring.” Phoenix’s voice is low, his eyes dark, staring up at Apollo. “I do care. I—”

“You don’t care about lying! But you do care about - what, about us? Doing this because you care, because you always know what’s best for everyone not to know!” Apollo throws his hands in the air. Phoenix’s brow furrows further, his jaw set tightly. “Never mind that Athena had a breakdown during the trial because Means hit her exactly where you were worried she would be! And you didn’t prepare her! Never mind that Klavier’s having a breakdown now because he found out at the worst possible time! When you could have told him! You know—”

“And if what he knows already hurt him this badly, then what do you think would be happening if he knew Kristoph cursed him years ago?” Phoenix slams his hands on his desk like he’s at the defense’s bench, pushing himself up out of the chair and onto his feet. “That his brother’s wanted him dead for that long? You think that’ll help anything, for him to find that out right now on top of all this? You want him to have that to come to terms with right now, too? I didn’t lie to him! He made an assumption that I didn’t correct because I’m not in the business of salting anyone’s wounds!”

He makes - a point. Apollo sees where he’s coming from. Why he’d do that. An additional piece of truth, yesterday the same as a salting of the wound. “But you don’t think he’s ever wondered if - if Mr Gavin resented him for that long? If he - if you would be setting something to rest, if you told him that. You can’t decide for someone else what they’re capable of handling.”

“Fair point,” Phoenix says. He sinks back down into his chair, and then motions to Apollo’s, suggesting he sit back down. “If he’d asked, I’d have told him. If he ever asks, I’ll tell him. I just wasn’t about to drop that on his head with him unprepared. Or if he asks you - I’m not asking you to swear silence to that. Shit, if you ever think that it’ll help him to know, then tell him - tell him you just found out from me, throw me under the bus and lie to make me look worse, that’s fine.”

Apollo returns to his chair, still not feeling any less like he wants to take a swing and see if he’s gotten any better at punching since last April. “You want me to lie now too?” he asks.

“I want you to use your best judgment about what he might want to know or be able to handle,” Phoenix says. “To not pile on more if he didn’t ask, if you don’t think he’s prepared. Like I said, when it comes to being cursed, I didn’t ever not know, and I know what the knowing is like. Yeah, I took a gamble that if I didn’t tell them then no one else ever would. That they’d never know, I hoped.”

He shakes his head and then leans it back against his chair, his eyes closing. “See, it’s not just grief, not at all. The woman who cursed me was someone I thought I knew. Though I’d known for a while. She had actually wanted me dead since we first met.” His eyes pop back open. “Eventually she tried to poison me, and when that didn’t work she tried to frame me for murder, and when that plan fell apart she just tried to kill me with a curse because she was pissed about it. She was a lot stronger than Kristoph, I’ll tell you that much. But Mia stepped in, and now I’m still alive and other people just drop dead all around me instead.”

He sounds almost like he is making a recitation, like he’s rehearsed it, scripted it. Apollo wonders if he’s ever told anyone else all these details, if anyone else lacking the Sight knows that Phoenix is cursed, and if he used this same script then too. He’s speaking about himself, something so personal, in a way so curt and crisp, so much more detached than he’s been speaking about Klavier, or Trucy.

Apollo nods numbly, unable to force his tongue to ask any of the questions he has.

“I could have come to grips with her hating me that long and that much - I could’ve come to terms with it and moved on. I was - well, I eventually became glad to know what she was. I could’ve been okay with all that. Eventually. If I hadn’t known about the curse. But I did and the - the knowing, the - Mia was murdered. Three years after she saved me. That long, thinking I could accept that I was cursed, and as soon as something really happened - I couldn’t.”

He presses his hands together and rests them against his chin. “And I couldn’t ever even just grieve her, because I had this guilt. That her death was my fault - I know, I know, some other man murdered her. He got to rot in jail for the rest of his life for his crimes, and he would’ve hated her whether or not I was cursed. For the things she did and because of what he was, and I had no part in any of that, but I was still - thinking, if maybe if she hadn’t ever taken me under her wing. If I hadn’t been around, maybe it would’ve been different somehow. Maybe she would have survived.”

The lights flicker gently and return dimmer and softer than they were before. Everything that gets talked about in this office, Mia hears; Apollo wonders if Phoenix doesn’t get sick of it sometimes, just want to say something without her offering input. Even if this is presumably well-meant, some attempt at comfort, the most a dead woman who can’t speak can give. Apollo exhales and can see his breath. He shivers again. “Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks.

“I want you to understand.” Phoenix rubs his hands together, a vacant look in his eyes, like he hasn’t quite realized why he’s so suddenly cold. “What it felt like, and what I’m worried about. If I’d told Klavier, or I tell Trucy - once I say something, I can’t take it back. That’s it, and they know, forever, just like I do. So I want to be sure that this won’t - I want—” He drops his hands and reaches over and picks up the magatama, idly spinning it around between his fingers. Apollo can’t remember ever seeing him this uneasy, this fidgety. “Klavier, especially, reminds me of myself when I was his age, and of a prosecutor I knew then, too. And that - recognition” - he gestures with the magatama clutched in his hand - “is not good, because we were not - okay.”

Apollo wishes he could remember with clarity all that Phoenix said to him about this time a year ago, about Klavier, about Phoenix being concerned for him. He does remember that Phoenix said something about some other prosecutor then, too, that Klavier reminded him of. Or that he was worried Klavier was going to end up like.

Phoenix inhales slowly, and says, “Six months after Mia was murdered - which was three, three and a half years after I was cursed, mind you - I lost someone else. I didn’t realize how badly he was doing - he did a good job at hiding it, and I didn’t know how to reach out. I was wrapped up in my own loneliness and depression, and then he was gone.”

He stops turning the magatama between his fingers, staring down at it for a few seconds, and then he resumes fidgeting with it. “I felt like I’d caused both of those. Couldn’t convince myself otherwise. Every other factor I knew there was, every single thing I couldn’t prevent or control, all these other things that other people did - I still thought that if I wasn’t cursed, then it could have been - just different enough that they would still be here.” He reaches up, brushing his fingertips across his temple. “Wouldn’t have been a fatal wound. Or wouldn’t have—”

He falters, staring past Apollo now, over at the window. This is the same thing he said about Mia earlier, about that sense of guilt, even knowing someone else murdered her. That he held some kind of responsibility, for a curse that seems to manifest itself as coincidence. Just coincidence, a little too often.

“They could’ve been okay, somehow, in the end, I thought,” he continues. “And instead, I was - I was there, I was still around, and they weren’t. And all I could think was that if I didn’t do something, then I would just lose the other few friends I still had - they would be around me, and they would die for it.”

“Didn’t you say that there’s no way you know to break a curse?” Apollo asks. From Phoenix’s solemn expression, he’s not going to suddenly say that there is a method, but Apollo has no idea what he is going to say. What that something he thought to do was.

“Right,” Phoenix says. “So I thought - only way to take the curse out of the equation is by taking myself out of the equation. I thought - as long as I’m not around - if I go and die, then anyone else who I love won’t. The curse will be gone, right, if death finally takes me. But the curse only seemed to hit other people, not me, so if dying was what I needed to do, then I…”

Klavier lying on the stage, wondering why it had to be Courte who died instead of himself. Phoenix’s dark, pained eyes, as he speaks again, finishes the thought in a voice barely above a murmur. “It made - made far too much sense to me, then. Was far too appealing a prospect.”

The question of what Phoenix won’t quite spell out catches sideways in Apollo’s throat, and when he tries to force it he just makes a soft croaking sound. Phoenix presses his lips together and glances away. “It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” he adds softly. “Klavier’s - he’s what, twenty-whatever? I was twenty-five when I—”

When Mia died, Apollo thinks, but that Phoenix doesn’t finish the thought, swallows hard and stares at his desk and says something else, makes Apollo think there was something even worse he could have said, with that implication he didn’t say. “And Trucy - she’s my daughter. I’m supposed to protect her. I took her in because I couldn’t live with the thought of anything else happening to her when I could bring her here, hope that Mia could somehow bless and protect her as much as she did me. But I can’t imagine just - I can’t let that happen to her. To suffer the way I did, to - to spend her life wondering if wherever she goes, someone’s going to die - the concert, Nine-Tails Vale, to ever - to think she can blame herself. Or that everyone she loves is better off without her. Or to—”

He blinks, fiercely, his eyes watering, and Apollo hopes he’ll never have to see Phoenix this close to tears again. Phoenix, cursed and trying - and in the case of Klavier, now failing - to shelter others from that same pain. Klavier, and Trucy, and—

“What about Vera?” he asks. “You explained to me, but did you ever tell her that she’s—” Phoenix stares at him, blinks slowly. Apollo squeezes his own eyes shut. “You didn’t tell her.” He’s unable to muster the same indignation he was before. He can’t really even bring himself to feel manipulated. Phoenix told him exactly that he was saying all this to make Apollo understand. Phoenix sought this reaction. But Phoenix’s chessmaster act has never superceded his desire to keep secrets before; there’s no way that Apollo can convince himself that this emotional vulnerability is all entirely a ploy to get Apollo to shut up. How many times has he refused to explain something and just left Apollo to stay angry about being in the dark? He has never been reluctant to do that. To just sit silent and lock Apollo out. To let Apollo hate him for his secrets.

He wanted Apollo to understand, intimately, whatever it took. So that Apollo would agree keep these secrets. So that Apollo would go along with him. And it might be concern that drives him - he cares, of course he does - but it’s still manifesting in the most infuriating ways possible. In well-meant silence.

“Would you want to know?” Phoenix asks, and that question at this time is an answer and confirmation in itself. “I know the truth is important to you, Apollo - I know it is to all of us.”

For once, Apollo believes he means it. He’d know it’s the truth because he can see when Phoenix is lying, but he’s actually convinced, this time.

“But,” Phoenix continues, “if you already know that the person who cast the curse hates you and is in jail for committing murder - already got to come to terms with that, or grieve that, or for someone else dead - you already know that truth. Would you really, honestly want to live with also knowing that you’re cursed?”

To possibly want to die because of it, like Phoenix did? Apollo opens his mouth. He wants to say yes, yes he would like to know, because that’s the truth of it and he wants to always know the truth, all of its facets no matter how ugly.

Doesn’t he?

He thinks about Nahyuta, about Dhurke, about trying to forget they ever were anyone, because that’s easier than facing the fact that Dhurke abandoned him, and they might both be dead by now. Easier than wondering whether they were human or fae or something else. He doesn’t want to know what they were. He wants to deny the dreams, to convince himself they’re nothing but the weird subconscious mash-up of memory and the fae horrors Clay has spent all these years warning him about. He doesn’t want the truth about his childhood. He doesn’t want to remember his childhood at all.

(Is it well-meant silence when he doesn’t tell Clay, or Trucy, or Klavier, about them? To not worry them about his life and his past? Or is it just cowardice on his part? Blissful ignorance.)

He closes his mouth. Thinks about the smile Trucy forced onto her face as she realized that Apollo was about to reveal to the court that her father Zak Gramarye was murdered six months before then. Thinks about how she couldn’t keep that smile forced when she found out that her dead grandfather took her mother’s soul for his own personal gain. Thinks about Klavier lying on the stage wishing that he had been the corpse there, not Courte. All the pains that truth has caused them. Is that better or worse than that alternative? Does it depend on what truth it is being hidden?

(He thinks about how long it’s been since he’s said Nahyuta’s name out loud. What color were his eyes in real life, and not Apollo’s haunted dreams? He doesn’t remember.)

“I - I don’t really know,” he admits.

The smug, victorious expression he expects never arrives on Phoenix’s face. There’s no satisfaction in winning this argument. “I’m sorry,” he says, closing his hand around the magatama. “I told you about Vera because it mattered directly for that case, but the rest of this - I wanted to shoulder it myself. So the rest of you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t want you to have to keep secrets from anyone. But I don’t know what else to do.” He forces a smile onto his face with visible effort that makes Apollo wince. Nothing masks the exhaustion written into the lines on his face. “Maybe we put our heads and together we figure out some better way to talk about it. If I ever figure that I should tell…”

He trails off, touching a finger to his locket. Tell Trucy. If he ever gains reason to think that he should tell Trucy. Would he actually run it by Apollo first, ask for his advice? The possibility of being in Phoenix’s confidence for something that isn’t a case doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.

“I still don’t think you should try and keep it secret forever,” Apollo says, “but I - I guess I see what you mean. And why you don’t just…”

Why he doesn’t just tell her. More reason that just because Phoenix doesn’t “just tell” anyone anything. For once, he’s not being a cryptic bastard.

“Believe me, Apollo,” Phoenix says darkly, “I’m always thinking ahead and trying to plan for the worst. I’m not naive enough to just hope that anything will stay one way ‘forever’. But I have to be sure I don’t make it worse, either.”

It isn’t the lack of a visual cue that makes Apollo believe him. It’s knowing him that makes Apollo believe him. Phoenix always has his eye on something down the line, playing out the plan a few steps ahead to find the complications. Even - especially - while he wasn’t a lawyer. A gambler’s steady hand holding the cards, chancing on an outcome, because the cost of doing nothing at all is even more unthinkable.

Apollo nods, more times than necessary, lacking anything else to say. Phoenix cocks his head. “Apollo, you all right?” he asks.

What the hell is he supposed to say - how the hell is he supposed to be? Fine? In what world is he possibly fine? At the end of this, he’s learned more than he ever dreamed he would from his sole initial question, but in it all, that first answer has never changed.

This is all there is. A rabbit hole of pain so unfathomably deep and winding, and in its darkest depths, the same as the answer given to him on the surface: there’s no way to break a curse. Their lives aren’t the kind of fairy tale where true love’s kiss can wake a sleeping beauty or transform a beast back to a prince - it’s grimmer than that, colder than that, crueler than that. Curses not so concretely visible but more like haunting coincidence, a ghost whispering at the shoulder with reminders of guilt. How could a man who wasn’t even there when the crime happened blame himself for his mentor’s murder? And yet, even after the killer’s confession, how could he not? How can even the curse’s caster be blamed when someone else wielded the murder weapon? And yet, how could they not share in it?

Apollo would rather someone have been turned into a frog, honestly. Wouldn’t that be easier to grapple with, a simple chain of cause and effect, and no ambiguity in who to blame.

“No,” Apollo finally says. “Not really, no.”

“I guess that was a bit of a stupid question, huh.”

Apollo nods. No kidding. What’s a better question at this point, anyway? Not what he says. “How - how can there really not be any way? For a curse to be broken, I mean.”

Phoenix spins his chair around, resting his head back against it, eyes turned up to the ceiling. Once he slows to a stop, facing the windows, he says, “I mean, maybe it’s possible there was, once, but it was forgotten. There’s a lot of magic that’s gone that way.”

He gives Apollo a moment to digest that, and then continues, “The Court’s heyday was thousands of years ago. They’re living ruins of what they used to be, and a fraction of what they used to know. Maya - you haven’t met her, she’s Pearl’s cousin - Maya’s helping me out with some matters by trying to dig up more about some kinds of magic they’ve forgotten the nuance of. But even that’s something we’ve got a hint that they knew, once. Not like—” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry. Don’t hold your breath waiting for a way to break a curse.”

“Oh,” Apollo says, somewhat surprised, but pleasantly so, that Phoenix said that much. It would be typical of him just to reiterate that no, there just isn’t any way he knows, that’s all, and to skip the explanation for fear of giving Apollo false hope. But thinking about the prospect of false hope is still easier than really, truly considering the meaning of what Phoenix just said - that this, that everything they’ve ever had to deal with in regards to the fae, could have be so much worse. They could do so much worse than all this pain they’ve ever wrought - they were once so much more dangerous than this, and now their Court is only ruins. This is what they are when they are weak.

“If I do find anything out, I’ll—”

Phoenix breaks off, rising up slowly from his chair, staring at something past Apollo, over his shoulder. Apollo twists around to look, not sure what he expects to see, but it certainly isn’t Vongole standing in the doorway, her head held high, her body much more solid than it usually appears, and stiller. The wispy fur at the back of her legs and off of her tail does not stir as though she is made of mist and surrounded by a breeze that affects only her; she could almost, in this moment, be a normal dog, but for her glowing eyes and her ears so bright red as though they were dipped straight in paint.

All the color drains from Phoenix’s face. He snatches up the magatama and springs to his feet, hurrying past Vongole to peer into the other half of the office. Apollo rises to his feet; if Klavier was here - if he heard what Phoenix was hiding - how Apollo promised to keep it a secret—

Vongole stares at Apollo. She doesn’t move. Phoenix reappears in the doorway, curling a hand in his hair, but his face has fallen slack with obvious relief. The claws curled into Apollo’s heart unclenches. “So then what are you doing here?” Phoenix asks the hound, whose ears fold back flat against her head, though her snout does not turn to shift her attention to Phoenix. She stares Apollo down like she will pounce. “Does he send you places or did you just wander here yourself?”

“You don’t know?” Apollo asks.

“You think I’ve ever had the chance to ask either Kristoph or Klavier about the logistics of their spectral hellhound?” Phoenix asks. Apollo tries to remember when he first started seeing Vongole. Whose ownership she would have been under. How soon after Kristoph’s arrest did Klavier come back to Los Angeles?

Despite her weirdly lanky proportions, like a regular dog was put on a rack and stretched out, Vongole always moves with grace, a predator’s prowl and elegance. A monster, but a beautiful one. She circles Apollo like she intends to herd him somewhere, like she is a shark smelling blood waiting for the moment to strike. “What—” Apollo spins too, trying always to keep her in his sight. She moves just slowly enough that he can keep up, but just quickly enough that he becomes slightly dizzy in his efforts. “What do you want?”

She stops. Apollo steps forward, trying to escape her circle, but she swings suddenly to the side, throwing her body up against Apollo’s hip. He expects her to fade through him, as she does walls and doors, but when she hits him he staggers with the force of her weight. And the cold - her body is cold and it reaches straight through his clothes, cold enough to burn, ice on bare skin type of burning, and Apollo doesn’t understand. He’s touched Vongole before, without problem, hasn’t he? Surely he has. What’s wrong with her? Or is something wrong with Klavier?

She trots over to the door, standing on the threshold, staring back at Apollo with her head aloft. He can’t bring himself to move, can’t unfreeze his feet from where they are riveted into the ground. Vongole presses her ears back against her head, lowering it so that her neck is level with her shoulders, prowling again, and she makes another circle of Apollo before again stopping in the doorway.

“I think she wants you to go with her,” Phoenix says.

She wags her tail, much faster than the usual low, wide swishing path that it takes. Apollo wrenches his foot from the floor and takes one step forward. Vongole bounds through the front room of the office, weaving between magic props tossed carelessly on the floor as though she couldn’t pass through them. And she stops and waits at the door, glancing expectantly back at Apollo. He fumbles his phone free from his pocket, finding no messages waiting for him; why would Klavier do something as cryptic as sending his faery dog to collect Apollo, rather than just calling or texting him?

Unless it isn’t Klavier instructing Vongole. Unless she’s acting on her own. Or unless Klavier is in trouble.

“You’d better go,” Phoenix says. “I can lend you the—”

“It’s fine,” Apollo says. He’s pretty sure that Klavier hates the magatama, and he found him fine without it last night. And he didn’t have Vongole guiding him then.

“Let me know that everything’s all right,” Phoenix says quietly. Apollo opens his mouth to ask what Phoenix knows, why he’s so sure that this means something is wrong - remembers what Phoenix said about himself and how Klavier reminds him of himself, long ago. Closes his mouth. Knows why Phoenix worries.

Phoenix always worries. He means well. His road is paved in well-intended worry.

“Yeah,” Apollo says. “I’ll - I’ll let you know.”

Vongole waits for him only to reach the door, diving through it as his hand reaches for the doorknob. He next finds her waiting beside the bike rack, her smoky fur drifting independently of the chill breeze, and as soon as he mounts his bicycle she lopes off down the sidewalk. She never looks back at him but is obviously monitoring him in some way, her pace changing depending on obstacles and traffic so that she always remains in his sight. He follows her through the quieter (relatively, anyway) city of weekend mornings, through his usual stomping grounds, to end up on the stoop of an apartment building that is - quite frankly, not as grandiose as Apollo would expect. He presumes this is where Klavier lives.

(If it’s not, then he’s far too deep into something that it’s also far too late to back out of.)

Vongole noses one of the buttons on the buzzer at the entryway and disappears through the door. Only seconds later, too quickly for her to have physically covered the necessary amount of ground, the door clicks to unlock. Apollo enters the lobby and before he has time to take in his surroundings, she appears in front of him. Literally appears - not bounding up to him out of a wall, but materializing out of the air, white fog swirling in circles around her ankles. She directs him to the elevator, pressing her nose into the button for the fourth floor and then several times in quick succession slamming her nose into the close doors button. “So were you always like that, or did you pick up your impatience from him?” Apollo asks.

She sits down and fixes her eyes on him. He doesn’t know what that means. He’s not sure why he bothered talking to her. She can’t respond - can she understand? Does she have some way to communicate information she hears to Klavier? Surely not - hopefully not, depending how long she was in the office.

She does not move until the elevator halts at their destination, and she springs to her feet and slips through the doors before they have opened wide enough for a fully-corporeal dog of her size to pass through. But when he makes it through, she meets him right at the other side, her impatience not taking her any further down the hall until Apollo can follow right at her tail. The walls are not cracked and peeling as in Apollo’s building, but they are certainly plain - again, very much not the kind of place he would imagine Klavier to live.

Vongole throws herself through the door of Apartment 404, and Apollo waits in front of it. A moment passes, and then another. Right. Even a faery dog doesn’t have opposable thumbs to grip a doorknob. He fails to swallow his apprehension but knocks anyway. There has to be a reason Vongole brought him here. He can’t just run away from it.

The seconds crawl past. Apollo reaches up to knock again, but the door swings suddenly open, and he flinches back.

Klavier’s hair is barely held together in a ponytail, strands falling loose around his face, and he looks even more like he hasn’t slept, going by the shadows under his eyes. And Apollo never thought there would come the day that he sees Klavier in sweatpants, but - he’s still alive. He’s still intact in one mobile piece, and he’s lucid enough to look annoyed. Apollo fumbles for words, any at all, but none arrive on his tongue. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He starts to raise his arm to point at Vongole, to blame her, and before he can, Klavier sighs, shaking his head, his apparent annoyance sliding into exhaustion, and he steps out of the doorway, pulling the door open wider, and gesturing for Apollo to come in.

[notes on the chapter]

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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ahumansvoid · 5 years ago

Text

The unofficial Follow up

Tumblr is a fucking nightmare. It deleted this entire thing when I edited the fucking tags.

Anywho. This is a follow up to Commander Fox Deal With A lot which itself is a follow up to my Interviews fic.

I call it unofficial because a) I’m not sure if this is really how it’ll go within the Interviews Universe and b) If this happens in the Interviews Universe, it’d be after the Anakin follow up (That I am still writing, Anakin doesn’t like me okay? He’s a dama bitch whenever I try) Hence I’m not putting it up on AO3 right now.

But I still want to share it because idk how long the Anakin follow up is gonna take and I like what I wrote. And am rewriting this verbatim because someone reblogged this so thank you because I didn’t want to figure out what the fuck I wrote up here.

Also, if you don’t want to read those two fics but want to try this one out, all you really need to know is that the Coruscant Guard has become a Daycare. Other than that, this is a pretty independent work.

Now Idk what I wrote down here so bear with me if you’re rereading this after April 4th because this has some slight changes I’m sure. Also. I edited the thing here so, let’s hope I remember my edits.

Characters: Commander Fox, Clone OCs

Words: 870 (or somewhere around there)

Warnings: Mentioned Character Death.

Mando’a translations:

Vod -> Brother

Di’kut -> idiot (lit. someone who forgets to put on their pants)

Utreekov -> idiot, fool, emptyheaded

Gar mirsh solus* -> your brain cell is lonely

Jorbe** -> Reason

Ade -> child

*The one on Mandoa.org is actually Kaysh mirsh solus (His brain cell is lonely) but Gar means your and I figured it’d work. Let me know if it doesn’t.

**Yes I named a clone ‘Reason’ in Mandoa. Take a guess at what’s notable about him.

Now the story

“Explain. Now.” Fox really wanted to know what Ink and Hive were thinking.

Both troopers shuffle a bit, glancing at each other, before Hive starts talking, “So, the safety lady came by to check if our base was safe for kids because the Chancellor wanted to be certain. We knew it would be so we didn’t care, but it wasn’t. The lady gave us a day to clean up before she came back to ascertain it was safe. It is now. But there were dangerous things in reach of the kids that no vod would leave out. So, Ink and I went through the security footage to see what di’kut was leaving dangerous shit around.”

Ink takes over the story, “It was one of the Chancellors aids. She had come down and put dangerous stuff in easily accessible areas for children. It was deliberate. So,” Ink shrugs, “we bugged the Chancellors office and set up hidden cameras. We needed to know if he was telling her to or if she just really hated kids.”

Hive cuts in, “While we recorded everything, we set it up so it only triggered our comms when she went into his office. And when she did, we got this recording,” Hive holds out a holorecorder and turns it on. An image of the Chancellor and one of his aids came to life, paused for a second before Hive played it.

”And?” The Chancellor prompts.

“I set up everything you told me to. Their daycare will be shut down before the days out.” The aid states.

“Good. Leave.” With that, the aid leaves the office.

And the recording stops.

This still does not explain the actions those two had taken. Fox looked at both for more of an explanation.

Hive speaks up first, “We went through the recordings later and found him in an upset over the daycare not being shut down. I don’t have it on me but he was talking about maybe sending a bounty hunter to attack the base. Make it unfit for kids. We couldn’t let that stand, vod.”

Fox sighs heavily, “Let me make this clear. You two assassinated the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic because he threatened our base and daycare?” Fox really wanted to make sure he was hearing this correctly.

“He debated to himself on whether to attack the base when the kids were here!” Ink protests.

Which, while a good point, changes little.

Fox groans, “You two are true utreekov. Seriously, gar mirsh solus.”

Both troopers were silent, but were clearly upset with the insults. But not fighting them.

First smart action from both of them.

Would it of killed them to go through more of their recordings from the Chancellors office?

Fox and Jorbe had gone through it and found some rather damning footage.

Fox pulls out his own holorecorder and played a clip that Ink and Hive’s bugs and cameras had picked up.

Chancellors Palpatine stands up from his desk and goes over to a holocaller, pulling on a robe and pulling the hood up to hide his face. After pressing the call button, Count Yan Dooku appears.

“Lord Sidious how might I be of service?” Count Dooku asks.

The Chancellor answers, “There will be a Jedi battalion lead by Master Gallia at Bo’lim. Win the system, she will not be able to call in reinforcements.”

Count Dooku bows, “Of course, Master.” with that, the holocall cuts out.

Fox shuts off the holorecorder and levels the pair of troopers with a Look.

“Did General Gallia-”

“I requisitioned reinforcements and changed certain travel plans for other battalions so she’d have backup.” Fox states, it had been one of the first things he’d done upon hearing that, “Now, please explain why you assassinated our Chancellor who was a Sith Lord and working with the enemy?” Fox’s voice was hard. He wanted these two to get with the program. They weren’t. He was not happy.

He rarely was. But that was beside the point.

“We assassinated him because he threatened our ade.” Ink states.

Fox sighs again. Seriously?

“You two are fucking morons.”

“Are we in trouble?” Hive asks.

“Yes you two are in deep trouble for assassinating our Supreme Chancellor who was committing treason against the Galactic Republic.” Fox was pretty sure his sarcasm wasn’t coming through his anger, but he really didn’t care. “The fuck do you think?”

Hive’s answer was hesitant, “No?”

Fox sighs heavily, “You’re both on latrine duty. Get out of my office.”

It wasn’t really a punishment. Not the one they should have gotten for assasinating the Supreme Chancellor.

But Palpatine had been a traitor to the republic. Jorbe was leaking the illegal footage, making sure it had no connection to the Guard.

Soon everyone would know the Chancellor was a traitor.

And a Sith Lord.

Fox probably should of punished Ink and Hive harder.

If anyone found out it had been them and all they got was latrine duty?

Fox would be decommissioned with them.

But he couldn’t bring himself to punish them more.

The Chancellor was a Traitor to the Republic Fox was sworn to protect.

Also.

Fox really hated the man.

#Commander Fox #CC 1010 #Clone Ocs #Star Wars Fanfiction #My writing #Star wars fanfic #Star Wars #Star Wars the Clone Wars #boderline crack #Interviews AU

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

ACITW AU one-shot “Hidden Talents” (Rated PG13)

Summary: After the stress and pressure of wedding planning drives them out of the city, Kurt and Sebastian hide out in Sebastian's old room. Kurt starts cleaning Sebastian's closet while Sebastian flips through old yearbooks, being of no help whatsoever. While weeding through Sebastian's collection of clothes and shoes, Kurt stumbles upon something he'd never thought he'd find in a million years - Sebastian's long lost violin. (4613 words)

Notes: So, we all remember that in ACITW Sebastian plays the violin, that Julian claimed he was really good at it, and could have probably done something with it? Then it just never gets mentioned, not even once by Sebastian's parents, which leads me to believe there's a reason. This one-shot explores that reason, and whether or not Sebastian is really as proficient as his brother claims.

Part of ACITW AU

Read on AO3

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, holding up a fitted Marc Jacobs polo, fashionable despite its age. Then again, polo shirts are the standard, and designer never goes out of style. Like a fine wine, it matures, even if the shirt’s owner - sitting cross-legged on his bed, chuckling over photos in an old yearbook - has managed to remain perpetually sixteen.

His sense of humor pinging at a solid age twelve.

“Jeff, you bastard!” Sebastian snorts, flipping off a photo that Kurt can’t see from where he’s standing. Sebastian finds a block of sloppy text at the bottom right corner and runs a fingertip over it. He reads the slanted script, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, gatekeeper of another undignified snort. “Fuck, I miss you, man! See you at the wedding.”

Kurt clears his throat, aggravated by the amount he keeps losing Sebastian’s attention, but he can’t help smiling either. They don’t reminisce about high school often - too many mines left undetonated in those fields. But it’s nice to see Sebastian like this, especially considering the current stress they’re both under - a stress that’s driven them from their penthouse in the city back home to Westerville for the next few weeks.

Unfortunately, retreating to this sanctuary of family and nostalgia has caused that stress to amplify tenfold.

“Sebastian,” Kurt sings when even his most dramatic throat clearing doesn’t do the trick. “Oh, Sebastian. Eyes up here, please.”

Sebastian’s head snaps Kurt’s way, his brow pinched as if he only now remembered that Kurt is in the room with him, and that they have a job to do. “What?”

“Donate,” Kurt repeats in a syrupy tone (more like pine tar as opposed to maple - thicker, darker, more bitter), shaking the navy blue shirt on its hanger for emphasis, “or keep?”

“Keep,” Sebastian decides in an instant, then returns to his yearbook, snickering at another picture on the same page.

“Good,” Kurt murmurs, setting the polo aside. I intend on borrowing that one, he thinks, finding the silver lining since he’s the only one of the two of them taking this task seriously. He rifles through the closet and pulls out another shirt, one less style-savvy than the polo. That’s okay. At this point, it can be deemed retro. Regardless, Kurt has no intention of borrowing it. “How about this one? Donate or keep?”

Sebastian’s eyes flutter up from the page, barely focusing on the shirt before returning to the book in his lap. “Keep.”

Kurt rolls his eyes as he lays this shirt over the polo. He’d really hoped this one would end up in the donate box. If they hold on to it, there’s a chance Sebastian might actually decide to wear it, which puts the burden on Kurt to come up with something for himself that matches (provided they don’t want to run the risk of blinding anyone).

Kurt didn’t fall in love with Sebastian for his taste in clothes, which, to be fair, is decent - long lines; primary colors; simple, clean-cut elegance that pairs well with Kurt’s bolder, more adventurous choices. Sebastian can be quite the fashion plate himself when he has a mind to, one rogue t-shirt notwithstanding.

He lets Kurt style him more times than not so Kurt can’t complain.

Kurt goes back to the closet and selects a pair of shorts he knows don’t fit Sebastian anymore. They’re from Sebastian’s lacrosse days, when his thighs were bulkier, his glutes rounder. Not that Sebastian doesn’t have a gorgeous body now. His fitness regimen is impressive, even by Kurt’s standards. But spending hours on end running up and down a grass field does wonders for the buns and thighs.

Kurt doesn’t want to banish everything from Sebastian’s Dalton days. Sebastian’s lacrosse uniforms were the first things Kurt slipped into the keep box without asking his say so. But these tan shorts are atrocious! He’s glad that after an hour of this, they’ll finally have a submission to the donate box, which has collected only dust so far along with one lonely copy of Mein Kampf - a relic from senior year AP European History.

“Donate or keep?” Kurt asks, dangling the garment presumptively over the donation box.

Sebastian glances at it, tilting his head and giving the matter a soupcon of thought. “Donate.”

Kurt removes the shorts from their clips with a sigh of relief. Finally! he thinks. Now we’re getting somewhere! But before he has the chance to drop them in, Sebastian recants (without looking up). “No, keep. Keep.”

“What!” Kurt stares at Sebastian, mouth agape. “Why? These don’t even fit you!”

“Are they too big or too small?”

“Too big! Plus, they’re cargo shorts, Sebastian! Cargo shorts!”

“They’ll be good for layering.”

Kurt’s eyes go buggy and wide. Sebastian hasn’t peeked, but he grins knowing what Kurt must look like right now, that vein in his head that throbs when he gets upset ready to burst. “When in the world would you need to layer shorts!?”

“I dunno,” Sebastian mumbles, eyes glued to a new page.

Kurt growls, slamming the offensive item into the overflowing keep box, which might as well be labeled the Why are we wasting our time here? box. “Are you planning on getting rid of anything?”

“Uh …” Sebastian looks up and around. “Yes. That burrito wrapper over there.” He points to the corner of his desk where the trash from their lunch had been unceremoniously abandoned in favor of this. “That definitely needs to go.”

“Ha ha,” Kurt says, reluctantly cleaning up the mess. He objects to playing maid in his fiance’s old bedroom, but since he’s not currently doing anything of value, he grabs the stiff paper wrapper and crumples it in his hands - no, strangles it, using it as a stand-in for Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian turns to the next page, but looks up when he hears the wrapper succumb to Kurt’s crushing fingers.

“Oh, wait! I don’t think I finished …” Sebastian gestures repeatedly at the wadded wrapper, unable to think of a suitable end to his sentence, his brain sandwiched between curbing Kurt’s annoyance and processing the sentiments on the page without them bringing a tear to his eye. People say that if high school was one of the best times in your life, you were probably a privileged asshole. Well, he was. And it was … mostly. “I may want to hold on to that a little while longer.”

“Why!?”

“Dunno.”

“What the---!?” Kurt slams the balled up wrapper down with an irritated yawp. “Cleaning out your closet was your idea you know!”

“Oh contraire,” Sebastian retorts with maddening superiority. “All I said was that I may want to siphon out a few things while I’m here. You’re the one who came up with the brilliant idea of paring down my things and donating them to charity.”

“And why not? What good does any of this stuff do just sitting here in this closet? It’s not like you’re planning on moving any of it to our place and wearing it!”

“True, but if I get rid of it, what would my mother have in her later years to rummage through sentimentally, hold to her cheek and sigh when she misses me?”

Kurt shakes his head slowly, unamused on Charlotte’s behalf. “That’s just … horrible. Like the plot of a bad Hallmark Christmas movie.”

“There are good Hallmark Christmas movies? I sure as hell never seen one.”

“Hmph. And you say I watch too many cheesy chick flicks.”

“You do, but that’s entirely beside the point.”

“You’ve got tons of clothes here you don’t use,” Kurt presses with renewed vigor. “It wouldn’t hurt to get rid of some of it, make someone else’s day brighter by giving them the opportunity to purchase name brands for a bargain. I know that always cheers me up.”

“Weren’t you the one telling me that as much as you love Marie Kondo, closet purging is overwhelming the charity industry, and that most of the stuff we donate ends up on barges traveling the world, bouncing from port to port until they inevitably sink into the sea and devastate the aquatic ecosystem?”

“Yes, but at the time you were trying to get me to trim down my Jimmy Choo collection.”

“Because no one in their right mind needs eighty-six pairs of the same patent leather loafer, Kurt!”

Kurt tuts sharply. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“I do know you! That’s how I knew that if I came out against your plan, you’d get loud and yell-y! That’s what I was trying to avoid! I only went along with it because …“ Sebastian’s sentence cuts off when he clamps his jaw shut with a clack that shoots straight up Kurt’s spine. If Sebastian’s tongue had been anywhere near his teeth, part of it would have been chomped clean off.

“Because what?” Kurt asks, sore at being accused of acting ‘yell-y’ - a stone’s throw too close to ‘groomzilla’, which they’ve both accused one another of too many times in the last three months to count.

Sebastian sighs, rearranges his legs on the bed so that they’re spread and not twisted like a pretzel. “Asking you up here was an excuse to get you alone for five frickin’ minutes. We’ve been swamped since the second we got here! We left the city to escape your friends and my friends and the wedding planner’s incessant phone calls. But my mom and Olivia took over where everyone else left off.”

“They’re just excited for us,” Kurt says soothingly, not admitting yet that he knows exactly how Sebastian feels.

“I realize that. And I’m glad they’re excited but …” Sebastian thumbs the edges of the pages he has yet to read, watches them fall beneath his hand one by one “… who knew that deciding to get married would mean never getting a moment’s peace?”

“I guess they figure we’ll get enough of that after we’re married.”

“Then they don’t know us very well, do they?” Sebastian scoffs, venom lacing his words, so palpable it gives Kurt a rash.

Ever since Kurt moved up the ranks from Flying Monkey in the cast of Wicked to the more coveted role of Fiyero, he’s been in higher demand, and thus, less available. Even to Sebastian.

Kurt has dreamed of planning his own wedding for years. He’d started an idea book along the way, cutting out photographs from bridal magazines and gluing them into the pages, creating palettes and themes depending on current trends, potential venues, and time of year. But with both Kurt’s and Sebastian’s schedules so hectic, they had to weigh the importance of Kurt planning their wedding against the probability of them marrying before the turn of the century.

Getting married won, but only by a slim margin.

They hired the best wedding planner in the city, recommended by everyone in their tax bracket, whose artistic vision matched Kurt’s nearly beat by beat (according to the pictures on her website of ceremonies she’d helped bring to fruition). To Sebastian’s naive mind, that meant they would leave everything in her capable hands while they went on with their lives, drop in for the occasional consultation to check that the roses she chose suit Kurt’s vision or that the place settings have the right number of candles in them.

But Kurt literally hated everything their planner came up with.

So they’ve had to be present for every second of their wedding’s creation to ensure they’ll get the chance to celebrate the way they want.

They’re paying someone else thousands of dollars for Kurt to plan their wedding anyway.

The irony is staggering.

To that end, they’re having two weddings - one for their New York friends and associates, and a second intimate ceremony for their Ohio family.

Sebastian knew from go that Kurt’s pack of female friends from high school would descend upon them and monopolize Kurt’s time with the obligatory brunches and showers, which was understandable and therefore forgivable. What Sebastian didn’t factor in was the amount in which the theater company would use Kurt’s engagement as a PR instrument, slipping it into every interview, at every opportunity how one of their leading male cast members is months away from wedding his wealthy boyfriend, playing the whole thing up as some sort of fairy tale (with the term ‘fairy’ vaguely but constantly applied).

Broadway’s full of gays, remember! And this one’s gettin’ hitched!

Sebastian thought the whole thing vulgar but he didn’t sweat it … not until the side-effects of that exploitation began to bleed in to their every day lives.

Namely the celebrity.

Sebastian is accustomed to having eyes on him. He’s a handsome man and he knows it. He’s used his charm and his checkbook to open doors that weren’t already propped for his arrival his entire life. What he wasn’t used to was the sheer amount of eyes that would follow him everywhere. Letters addressed to Kurt showed up at his office. Paparazzi camped out on their doorstep. Admirers stopped him on the street to ask him every manner of question.

And Kurt’s fans knew no shame.

An unsolicited tide of attention chased them back home, along with an utter lack of privacy because everybody knows.

Everybody.

Even out here in backwater Ohio.

Checkers at the supermarket, cashiers at Target, the guy filling up the tanks at the gas station down the block, pretty much every single person they’ve come in contact with has congratulated them on their wedding.

How people found out Kurt and Sebastian had gone to Ohio, Sebastian has no idea. They left in the middle of the night and drove so they wouldn’t have to fuss with tickets. No one needed to be informed because time off for both of them had been arranged ahead of time. But someone found out they’d left early, and that person told because they’ve received everything from gift baskets to magnums of champagne at both the Smythe estate and Kurt’s father’s home.

The (now mildly - because that’s considered progress) homophobic country club that refused to let Kurt and Sebastian take dance lessons as a couple had the nerve to call and congratulate Greg and Charlotte on their son’s upcoming nuptials, offering them use of their main ballroom for the wedding, the reception, any accompanying shindigs they had planned - the same ballroom that hosted both Presidents Reagan and Carter during their administrations (they mentioned more than twice).

Olivia happened to be at the house the day they called, so Charlotte gave her the honor of the telling them where they could shove their offer.

It made Olivia’s day.

“If you’d told me from the beginning that you wanted to get me alone,” Kurt says, arching a suggestive eyebrow, “we’d be on your bed making out instead of doing mindless busywork on opposite ends of the room.”

“Ooo. Sounds like a plan,” Sebastian says, throwing Kurt a wink … then goes back to his yearbook, finger raised in a pause gesture. “Just … give me … one second.”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Wow. That’s just … that’s just … wow. Thanks a lump.” Ego bruised, he turns back to the closet. He pushes the clothes aside, giving up on that front for a while, and tackles the floor. He smirks when he sees Sebastian’s shoes, stored in their boxes, lined up in rows and stacked three deep. If he knows his fiance, the majority of them are boat shoes, each in the exact same style but different colors.

Make fun of me for my eighty-six pairs of loafers, will you?

He reaches for the topmost box but gets distracted when his hand brushes something hard and canvas leaning against the wall. Kurt steps aside to let more light in since the object blends in with the shadows. Kurt gets a good look at it, realizes what it is, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Oh my …” He grabs hold of the handle and tugs it out gently. “So here it is. The fabled violin.”

That succeeds in getting Sebastian’s attention. His eyes light up when he sees Kurt approach carrying the case in his arms. Kurt hands the violin case over and Sebastian takes it, bringing it to him like a sacred artifact from his own past - one he thought he’d never lay eyes on again.

“It’s been forever,” Sebastian gasps. “I forgot I put it in this closet. I thought my mother had it.”

“Why did you give it up?” Kurt asks, watching Sebastian open the case to reveal the sublime instrument, wood polished and gleaming, appearing deceptively brand new with the exception of a few tells that speak to how much Sebastian played it - light-colored wear on the fretboard, a cloudiness to the finish on the chin rest, scratches here and there on the veneer.

“It’s just one of those things that faded from my life, stopped bringing me joy … about the same time everything else did.”

“Do you think you’d ever play it again?”

“Possibly.” Sebastian removes the violin from its case and holds it lengthwise in front of his eyes, examining it from end to end. “I mean, it’s been a dog’s age. I’m not sure I’d be any good at it.”

“Any chance it’s like riding a bike and you never forget?”

“Only one way to find out.” Sebastian plucks the strings in succession and smiles. It doesn’t sound too far off pitch to Kurt. Sebastian adjusts the strings, checking them against one another to make sure they’re in tune. Then he removes the bow from its resting place and tightens it. “Don’t rag on me too hard if I completely suck at this.”

“I won’t,” Kurt says. “I promise. I’ll just, you know, bring it up subtly at special occasions and bank holidays, maybe find a way to fit it into my toast at the wedding.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Sebastian rosins up his bow. He fits the violin underneath his chin. From the second it touches his skin, his attitude changes. He simultaneously tenses and relaxes, reminiscent of the way he behaved during their first sushi date, when he dropped eel and flecked soy sauce all over Kurt’s clothes. Kurt refrains from laughing at the memory. He doesn’t want Sebastian to think he’s laughing at him. But he can’t help smiling. Yes, their past is riddled with landmines, but the memories hidden in the flat, stable ground between never cease to make him glad.

Glad that he and Sebastian got together in the end.

Sebastian runs the bow experimentally over the strings, the sound it produces warm and rich, like hot Godiva cocoa on a cold, rainy day. Sebastian leans into that tone as he runs through scales, drawing end notes out a full four beats before launching into the next set. The quickness in which he picks it up takes Kurt’s breath away.

If Kurt was thinking of making fun of Sebastian for anything, he surely isn’t now.

“Why don’t we start with a classic, hmm?” Sebastian suggests, cheeks starting to pink from the look of open and unabashed awe on Kurt’s face.

“Where do you want to start? Bach? Beethoven?”

“I think …” Sebastian sits up taller, corrects his posture “… Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

“Are you sure?” Kurt teases, but with less snark than usual. “I wouldn’t want you to set yourself up to fail or anything.”

“It’s good to go back to the basics. Limber up the old chops, so to speak.”

“Are they still chops if you’re talking about your fingers?”

“Don’t know,” Sebastian says with a shrug. “I didn’t invent it.”

Kurt settles in comfortably on the bed as he waits for Sebastian to pull something mid-range from his bag of tricks, like Minuet in G, a piece that millions of children have hammered out on innocent instruments since learning the recorder in middle school became mandatory. But true to his word, Sebastian starts with Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, picking the notes on the strings with his forefinger. But one verse in, he puts the bow to the strings, and starts a whole other story.

Kurt had expected Sebastian to be rusty, suffer a few false starts before he got into the swing of things. Scales are one thing. They follow a predictable pattern. It’s fairly simple to keep them smooth. But Sebastian sounds like he put his violin down for the last time yesterday. Kurt almost stops him to accuse him of having a secret violin hidden somewhere that he’s been practicing on this entire time, probably at his office where Kurt wouldn’t see. He considers pulling out his phone and texting Sebastian’s secretary, interrogating her to see if she’ll spill about any mid-afternoon practice sessions when the partners were out at lunch.

Though, in this particular instance, Kurt doesn’t know if Sebastian is more likely to hide his tremendous talent or rub it in his face.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star ends and Sebastian melds it into a classical melody, one Kurt can’t name off-hand though he knows he’s heard it before. It’s slow, romantic - the kind of piece a director would use to cap off the credits on a bittersweet rom-com, one where the tragic heroine, diagnosed with a withering variety of late-stage cancer, dies after the love of her life proposes.

It’s sad.

So incredibly sad.

That sadness lingers in the air after the notes dissolve, becomes stronger, more powerful with every sway of Sebastian’s body. He’d closed his eyelids when this piece started and he’s fallen into the sadness, let it envelope him.

It’s become a part of him. Maybe it’s always been a part of him and he’s just now letting it out for Kurt to see.

Or he never intended on Kurt seeing it, and this is simply an accident.

Whatever it is, Sebastian finally notices it because he switches, keeps the same key but changes the song, seamlessly transforming into something more contemporary, slightly more upbeat.

Kurt’s heart stops when he realizes the song Sebastian is playing is from Wicked. Not only that, it’s a song Kurt sings as Fiyero.

As Long as You’re Mine.

Sebastian has never, to Kurt’s knowledge, played that song on the violin or any instrument, has never sung that song himself, hasn’t seen the sheet music. He’s heard Kurt sing it over and over, practicing it in their bathroom until the tile could sing it back to him. But now he’s playing it on an instrument he hasn’t picked up in decades.

Kurt swallows hard, heart swollen with pride but his chest hollow with jealousy.

That’s talent. True talent.

Even Blaine might not be that talented.

Kurt would kill for that kind of talent.

Years they’ve been together, they’re about to get married, and Kurt thought he knew everything there is to know about this man. But Sebastian is still such an enigma. What is Kurt going to learn in another ten years? After twenty?

On the one hand, it’s daunting the way these secrets pop up out of nowhere.

But more than that, Kurt is excited to find out.

Sebastian plays through the first verse again when the song ends, a twinkle in his eyes trying to coax Kurt into singing it while he plays. Sebastian plays with such emotion that, even though Kurt would love to duet with him, he can’t bring himself to - too transfixed to make his mouth move, or even hum the tune. But he hears the words in his head, hears their meaning ring in his ears. He’s never paid too much attention to the words outside of what they mean in the musical. Now he’s hearing them, understanding them, for a different reason all together:

Kiss me too fiercely Hold me too tight I need help believing You're with me tonight My wildest dreamings Could not foresee Lying beside you With you wanting me

Sebastian ends not on a note of completion, but open-ended, with the promise of more.

Longing for more.

“Julian was right,” Kurt says, clearing his heart from his throat.

“He’ll be ecstatic to hear that,” Sebastian teases, casually shelving the emotions his violin brought to the surface.

“You do play beautifully. You should have gone to NYADA.”

“That’s … that’s very kind of you, babe,” Sebastian says, flashing a rare shy smile, knowing how great a compliment that is coming from Kurt, how much NYADA has meant to him. “But being good at the violin and being a musician are two completely different things. And I’m not a musician. Or a performer. Not like you. I enjoy it … I definitely enjoy that you enjoy it … but it’s not in my blood. I mean, obviously, seeing as I could put this violin down for so long and not even think about it, hmm?”

Kurt wonders about that after Sebastian says it. It’s easy to believe considering Kurt found out about Sebastian’s playing not from Sebastian but from Julian (the night he devised a plan to break the two of them out of dance lessons no less). Other than that, he can’t remember for the life of him either brother bringing it up again. Even Charlotte, who praises in excess everything her children have accomplished, has never brought it up, not even to say that she misses it. The way Sebastian holds the violin to his chest reminds Kurt of the way Blaine held his favorite guitar - as if it, and not Kurt, were his soulmate. As with so many things in Sebastian’s past, Kurt suspects there’s a bigger story surrounding this violin and why he stopped playing it than he’s putting on.

It had faded from his life, he’d said. Stop bringing him joy about the same time everything else did.

The same time things went south with Julian and Sebastian moved away, which would explain why it seems to have been erased from family history.

“So what do you think? Donate?” Sebastian asks with a surreptitious sniffle. He doesn’t let go of the violin, doesn’t return it to its case. On the contrary, he seems to hug it tighter. “Maybe to one of those inner city performing arts programs you love to volunteer for so much?”

“No! Keep! A definite keep!” Kurt gushes. “Maybe you can put it down and never play it again, but now that I’ve heard you, I don’t think I can exist without your playing in my life!”

“But I thought you said I was keeping too much stuff.”

“Meh,” Kurt dismisses with a wave, done with the whole concept of cleaning Sebastian’s closet anyhow. “What’s too much stuff when you can fit half of Central Park in your penthouse? Plus, I have to think of your mother, right? Wasting away in this run-down, rickety shack with nothing at all to remind her of her youngest son? Especially not the thousands of photos and videos she’s taken over the years.”

Sebastian looks at Kurt through long eyelashes, a wicked streak creeping into his smile, turning it into a full-fledged smirk. “I guess we could always switch out some of my old lacrosse uniforms for it.”

“What?” Kurt sits up straight, the color draining from his face. He knew Sebastian would find out about that eventually (on their honeymoon, if not sooner), but he didn’t think he’d caught him when he did it. “No! No, no, no reason to do that. Who says I even … uh … weren’t we going to make out?”

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #Kurt Hummel #Sebastian Smythe

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