#she prefers those ball towers on that table.
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huntinghags · 2 years ago
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12. Dappled Green
[A flashback to Adder's training days]
Song pairings [1][2]
A day’s travel north of Kelias had already shown Adder the truth in Bakar’s teachings. The closer they got to Meravon, the more the trees towered over them, and the deeper the woods became. Dappled shades of green Adder had never seen before decorated a darker and older wood that had once been steeped in magic. Stumps of larger giants dwarfed even Aroden’s Table in Kelias and made Adder wonder what the forest had looked like before the loggers had started their work all those years ago. Everything was denser, from the noise to the underbrush, to feeling of magic.
“North of Meravon, does it continue?” Adder could hardly articulate her question, her mouth still agape in wonder.
“It does. The Aeon tower, now absent of magic, is surrounded by the largest trees you’ll ever see. It’s otherworldly.” Bakar answered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I’d like to see them someday.” There was a wistfulness full of longing in her tone.
“I’m sure you shall, but not today; our travels stop here.” Bakar halted at the edge of a clearing. Adder looked for a moment as if she was about to protest but held her tongue. This was the farthest she’d ever traveled from Kelias, and worried Bakar would change his mind and take them home if she caused a fuss.
“The deep woods hold different flora and fauna than the kinds you are familiar with back home. Each part of the world is like this, holding its own treasures, each with its own purpose. To the common man, it is simply a change in scenery, but to a magus it is an everchanging trove of resources.” Bakar explained, gesturing to the area around them. Adder responded with an attentive nod, rocking slightly back and forth on the balls of her feet.
“It is one thing to study books
 to memorize descriptions and illustrations. It is another entirely to find specimens out in the wild; to truly learn the secrets of the woods. You are well practiced at making draughts from prepared materials, but now you must practice gathering them. Supplies will not always be fruitful in town, and at times a journey will go on for longer than you intended. A magus is always prepared.” The hunter finished, then produced a folded piece of parchment from his pocket.
“A list of what you will need to procure before sundown. It can all be found within half a mile of this clearing. Do not stray farther.” Bakar gave Adder a pointed look with his last instruction.
“I will be searching alone?” Adder asked, and wished she hadn’t, in case Bakar would suddenly think better of it.
“Yes, call out if you have need of me. These woods are well traveled and relatively safe. I will wait here for you. You must learn what it is like to have to work alone, where there is no one to ask questions of when you are stumped.” Bakar took a seat against one of the large trunks and waved her off.
“Of course. It should be an easy task.” The student replied with a confident grin that made Bakar frown. She turned on her heels and was nearly out of the clearing.  
“Adder.” She slid to a stop.
“Yes?”
“Be back before sundown, I will be less than pleased if I have to go find you. And be careful.”
“I promise, mother hen.” She was gone before he could roll his eyes.
---
            Bakar had been right, as much as Adder always rued to admit it: it was quite difficult to identify plants out in the wild. They weren’t as distinct as they were made out to be in the pages of tomes, and the lighting made telling subtle differences in coloration challenging. She knew approximately where to look for the items on her list: which preferred shade, which were found near water, and so on
 but without a map finding such conditions proved tedious. By the time she had found half of them she had burned a good amount of daylight and energy. Adder wondered if Bakar had memorized the location of every plant on the Isle of Kortos with the speed at which he gathered supplies for his journeys, she wouldn’t put it past him.
            Stooping low to check beneath the roots of an upturned and rotting tree for fungus, Adder suddenly felt a sharp tug on her hair.
            “Ah! Fuck!” She cursed, standing up too quickly and slamming her head on the wood above it, she heard a peel of melodic laughter.
            “Busy, busy, busy! She has watched this one toil for hours.” A high-pitched voice rang out, still punctuated with chuckles. Adder found the source of it. A small faerie, dressed in leathers, hovered above her, a strand of her hair stretched between her dexterous fingers. It was a stunningly beautiful creature, long and delicate limbs, clear butterfly-like wings, dainty facial features and shining raven-black hair
 yet there was an uncanniness to it as well. Large sharklike obsidian eyes stared down at her, and there was something cruel in them, Adder thought. She tried to remember all that Bakar had taught her of the folk, but couldn’t place this particular one. It was small, and likely not too much of a threat, but Adder was still cautious. The folk enjoyed trickery.
            “I am busy, and I need to keep working, if you wouldn’t mind leaving my hair alone.” Adder huffed impatiently.
            “No fun, no fun! Why does one of the fair travel with that one with the biting iron? She thinks that one is a poor traveling companion indeed!” The faerie whined, twisting the piece of hair into a series of patterns like a child playing with yarn. It took Adder a moment to understand her meaning, but the faerie was surely referring to Bakar and his longsword of cold iron, a substance that was deadly to the folk. It unsettled her that the faerie could tell her changeling heritage just by looking at her.
              “He may be grumpy, but he’s a good teacher. He’ll be even grumpier if I don’t come back before sundown because a faerie wasted my time.” Adder turned and began rummaging beneath the roots once more.
            “Rude! Rude this one is. When she was only offering help. I suppose this one will spend all the rest of the daylight looking for one patch of caterpillar fungus!” The faerie chided shrilly. Adder stopped for a moment and squinted at the faerie. On one hand, Bakar had warned that the fey enjoyed tricks and deception, on the other he had told her to use all that she could in her surroundings. Perhaps she could outsmart the faerie and finish her work in a timelier manner.
            “You know where the caterpillar fungus is?” Adder questioned.
“She does. But will not tell this one. She thought to help one of the fair, but this one is rude.” The faerie crossed her arms and gave a dramatic sigh.
            “I apologize for my rudeness. I will give you a spool of silver thread if you help me find it?” Adder offered, knowing the folk fond of trades and human craftsmanship. The faerie squinted for a moment, before giving a short nod.
            “This way.” The faerie zoomed off almost too fast to follow, Adder sprinted to catch up. It was mercifully a short distance; Adder had been looking in nearly the right spot. She gathered what she needed and crossed it off of her list. The faerie loomed over her shoulder. Adder produced the spool of thread and handed it to her. The faerie inspected it, and tucked it into her leathers, before tapping her small chin thoughtfully.
            “She will help with one more item, for so nice a gift. Wait here.” With that the faerie fluttered off.
            Adder had found all but the last of her items when the faerie returned, something clasped in her tiny hands. Adder dusted herself off and raised her brow.
            “She has it, the last thing. Open this one’s hands.” The faerie gave a wide smile. Adder held her hand out, grateful to be done with her task more than an hour before sundown. Bakar would be pleased.
What dropped into her hand was not a flower, but a gemstone, the size of a small grape and ruby red. As soon as it touched her skin it was clear something was off, it felt wrong, slippery. Adder’s head began to swim, voice after voice filled it in a maddening cacophony. She felt as if she should run, and her muscles quickened, yet her teachings made her think better of it. This was the Call, though far stronger than it had ever manifested. She begged her legs to stay still, but each step she didn’t take wracked her body with a horrible pain. Adder let out a wail of despair and tried to reach out for anything to anchor her.
Adder had been gone for quite some time, but Bakar had expected that. He schooled the worry away the best he could, for he had surveyed these woods countless times. They were safe, Adder could handle anything that came her way, and she was not far. He had repeated that to himself constantly over the past hours, believing it a little more with each utterance, until he heard her scream. Bakar was to his feet in an instant. Accompanying the scream was something worse, a chill that went up his spine and the taste of copper in his mouth. His hand jumped to the hilt of his sword, to find it trembling slightly. Hag magic, and it was close. He had been a fool to think her safe. He only hoped his feet would carry him fast enough to save her.
The faerie was gone before Bakar made it to the clearing, Adder was there, her arms wrapped around the trunk of one of the trees, nails bleeding from where she desperately held on, one hand gripped in a fist. He ran to her, gathering her up in his arms, and prying the gem from her hand, crushing it in his grasp and casting it aside. Adder thrashed wildly in his arms, throwing him off balance and sending them tumbling to the ground. She babbled incoherently and clawing against his arms. Weaving a sign with one hand the best he could, he placed his thumb on her forehead, and directed his own thoughts towards her mind. Gradually, her flailing slowed, and stopped, as calm familiar thoughts replaced the screeching in her head. Her babbling turned to soft sobs.
“Shh. Shhh. It’s gone. It’s gone. You’re here, you’re here with me, Adder. You don’t have to listen to it, you don’t have to follow it.” Bakar spoke to her softly, his voice low. He stroked her hair, willing any feeling to come back that wasn’t the pain what she had been locked into.
How long had she been confined to darkness? It had felt like an eternity, each moment she hadn’t followed the path that had been asked of her felt like an hour of agony. Then all of the sudden, something had pushed it away. The taste of ale, the feeling of rain, the smell of a campfire, and the soreness of a long day’s work, familiar feelings, ones that replaced the all-consuming desire to run. One by one they pushed the Call from her mind, until the darkness and the pain, the whispers and screams, were gone. In their place were soothing assurances, and a strong embrace.
“Bakar?” Adder croaked out weakly, she could feel her hands shaking.
            “I’m here, Adder.”
            “I didn’t
 I couldn’t find the rest of—”
            “You did enough. What happened to you, Adder?” There was no anger in his voice.
Adder told him of the faerie, and of the gem, and with each detail his frown deepened.
            “A hag’s eye, hand delivered by a faerie. Direct contact with a piece of your mother’s magic strengthened the Call.  A nasty trick. No doubt the hag promised the creature a handsome reward for giving that to you.” Bakar sighed deeply. “I’m sorry Adder, I should have been more careful, I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”
Adder was astonished, she had expected a lecture on her carelessness
 not whatever this was. Bakar grasped her still shaking hands in his own, and gave them a small steadying squeeze, before releasing them and standing to help her to her feet.
“Let’s go home.” He said quietly, and for once, Adder didn’t argue.  
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amusementofaprincess · 4 years ago
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Khoshekh meets Khoshekh!
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ajvocals43 · 3 years ago
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Dress Up
Paring: Loki x Plus size!reader
Word Count: 2716 words
Warnings: Fluff, body image issues
Summary: Loki picks what the reader wears to a party. 
“You are such a cheater!” I shouted.
“You have no evidence.” He was calm. We both knew he cheated but he was right, I couldn't prove it. 
“I know that there is no way you could have beat me at that!” “Well you did play with the god of mischief darling.” He said and to be honest, I kind of wanted to punch him. I hated when he was right, our relationship might have been new but I should've known better than to play games with him. Especially with something on the line. It wasn't a big thing but something I seriously regretted now that he’d won. 
For context, Tony was throwing a ball tonight after we’d defeated our most recent villain. Loki had joined the team a while ago after he and Thor explained what had happened to Asgard. Forgiven wasn't quite the right term but they’d agreed to leave his mistakes in the past. Bygones and all that. It took some time but then we started dating. While it was still new and we weren't sure where it would go we decided to keep it a secret. But, while he may be the god of mischief and lies, I was not. It was pretty easy for everyone at the tower to figure out what was happening, but they respected our wishes and kept it to themselves. After a little while, when things were going smoothly and Tony announced the party we figured, “what better way to announce that we’re together?” But then I learned about the details of the party and that it was actually more of a gala, and now I wanted to stay home. 
 Anyway, to the point at hand, I was complaining to Nat about not wanting to go because I had nothing to wear. (Don’t judge me, being an Avenger means more comfortable and versatile clothing. Less ball gowns, more leather jackets.) When Nat finally gave up, she left to get ready with Wanda, apparently sending my boyfriend in to try and convince me to go. When he saw that asking wasn't going to work, we made a deal. The deal was to play a quick game of hearts. If I won, we had to stay in and watch Supernatural all night. But, if he won, I had to go to the party, and he got to pick what I wore. I was the Avengers tower champion at hearts so I was pretty confident that I would win. Until I lost. 
How did I lose?
Oh that's right. Because he freaking CHEATED and now I had to go to this stupid party and stand there awkwardly while random rich people get drunk under the guise of thanking us. It didn't help that I always felt out of place at those things. I wasn't the party going type of person, I much preferred small gatherings with close friends and family rather than lavish events that attract hundreds of people. There was something about those big events that always made me nervous, like all of those people were judging me somehow, like they thought they were better than me just because they had money. Not to mention, I was announcing that I was dating the man who once tried to take over the city. Some people still were not sold on him and I wasn't sure I was ready to face their scrutiny. And then there was the whole dress thing. Why did women have to wear such things anyway? What was the point? They’re impractical, they're uncomfortable a lot of the time and when you’re a big girl like me, there's only so many kinds to choose from. I’d hated shopping for dresses for as long as I could remember and I was not ready to do it right now, especially with Loki in charge. 
There was no way that this was going to end well. 
“Alright, fine. C’mon.” I stood up from the table and made my way to my closet with him following close behind. 
“Well this simply won't do.” He said looking around. “Where’s your formal wear?” 
“I don't have any.” He looked at me confused but before he could ask the question everyone else did, I cut him off. “Don't! I don't want to hear it.” 
He smiled slightly at that. “Fine” He snapped his fingers and under a cloud of green smoke, a series of different dresses appeared in my closet. “Try these.” 
“Loki, that's like-” I started, staring at what had to be like 20 different dresses all in different colors and styles. 
“I know.” He walked out of the closet. “Better hurry darling, there's not much time before the party.” I could hear the stupid smirk on his face as he left the room. “And don't think you get to choose your dress either.” 
“I’m not putting a freaking fashion show here!” I called as I put the first one on. 
“Oh, but you are!” He laughed from outside. I rolled my eyes as I finished with the zipper and walked out. 
“Not quite. Try the blue one.” I followed his instructions but the gown still wasn't right. I tried again and again and again, all to no avail. I was about ready to give up on the whole thing and just flat out refuse to go period. We were down to the last dress. I had to admire it on its hangar. It was beautiful. But it was still another dress. I slipped it on, not even bothering to look in the mirror before I walked out to show it to him. 
“So?” I walked out, bored. I turned around in a small circle to show him the back but not really caring for it one way or another. His lips quirked up even though he frowned at something on the dress. I was about ready to turn around and give up when he gestured to a pair of shoes sitting on my vanity chair. 
"Try those on." I raised an eyebrow at him. He tacked on a sarcastic "Please. I'll be right back." I snorted as I made my way over to do as he'd asked. I sat on the chair and began to lace up the shoes. I had to smile, they weren't strappy, sparkly contraptions with a stick for a heel. They were pretty much the combat boots that I loved with a block heel. How had he come to know me so well in such a short amount of time? 
I was still marveling about that when he walked back in the room. When I saw him, my thoughts skidded to a halt. A tuxedo. He. Was. Wearing. A. Tuxedo. Suddenly all I could think was damn he cleaned up well. I'm not sure when exactly all coherent thought exited my brain, but after a moment, I heard the snapping and my name being called. 
I cleared my throat, “Sorry.” I started to blush, “I was-”
“Oh, I know.” Cocky bastard. He reached his hand out to me and even though I accepted it, I couldn't help the eyeroll that came along with it. I walked past him to check again in the mirror but Loki didn't let go of my hand. He tugged me back slightly, making me stop in front of him. “The laces on the back came undone.” His hands slipped to my waist. “May I?” 
“Oh, um
 yes.” I was so focused on the feel of his hands on me that I didn't realize how much tighter the bodice of the dress had gotten. By that point it was too late. I looked down, realizing what exactly had happened. 
I pulled away, covering my breasts that were now probably way too far up my chest making them look bigger, and the rolls of my stomach that were now probably visible thanks to the dress. “What the hell are you doing?” I screeched. 
He looked confused. “What do you mean? The bodice was way too loose. It made that dress appear as if it were much too large for your frame.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I tried to reach behind me but quickly realized that the laces were out of reach from my hands’ positions across my body. 
“Yes. Darling, that dress is made to fit to your form, not to hang off you like some sack.” I backed up. He didn't understand why I was worried. 
I knew that as soon as he saw me, the real me, things would change. He’d be disgusted like every other boyfriend I'd ever had. They all say that they can handle a big girl, until they actually have one. I'd been laughed at for as long as I could remember. There had been scars at some point, but they weren't as permanent as the stretch marks that ran up and down my thighs, stomach and breasts. 
Suddenly I wasn't a fan of this dress anymore. I wanted to get out of it. But he seemed to catch on then. He ducked to meet my gaze that had fallen to the floor. He waited for me to meet his gaze before he said, “In case you haven't noticed darling, you have curves." He smiled like the god of mischief that he was, and even though I knew it was for my benefit, I couldn't help the blush or the slight smile that appeared at his words. His gaze roved over me, suddenly much more
 appreciatively. He’d started forward but it was less comforting now, more predatory. His smile grew and his eyes darkened as he saw me start to back away from him. He loved this game. Cat and mouse. "Sweet, mouthwatering curves that bring gods like myself to their knees. Curves that should be shown off, accentuated, especially in gowns like this." I was startled when I backed into the wall that was suddenly much closer than it was moments before. 
Once he had me where he wanted me, he slowly reached up to grab each of my hands, pulling them away from my body. He held my gaze the whole time, not letting me doubt for a second what he thought of my insecurities. After a moment, he pulled me away from the wall and over to the full length mirror in my closet. 
"Loki please I-" 
“Look.” His command cut me off but when I did actually look at myself, my words died off. It wasn't really as bad as I thought it was. I actually looked pretty good. I obviously wasn't a model by any standard but I didn't feel like the awkward big girl that I usually did. “Do you see it now? How your waist fits perfectly in my arms? How your hips give a perfect hold? You're ashamed of your body. My love, your body is perfection.” he said. “You are beautiful, darling. Your curves are not, nor have they ever been, a bad thing.” The tips of his fingers drifted lightly over the swells of my breasts, down my arms and to my sides where they settled on my hips. He lowered his head to where his lips were right at my ear when he whispered, “And anyone who’s made you feel differently will have to take it up with me.” 
I watched us in the mirror. Taking his words into consideration made me realize that he was different. Not like any guy I’d ever known. He was right. I'd always felt that we fit well together. I couldn't deny how right it felt when he had his hands on me or when he’d hold me as we’d watch a movie, or even when we kissed. I smiled at the thought. 
“Now, for the finishing touches.” He backed up and made some flamboyant gesture that made me laugh. In quick succession I watched as flashes of green revealed different pieces of jewelry. A gold cuff, ring, and a black choker with a gold pendant. All done with
 snakes. His snakes. They were gorgeous, my smile fell as I stared at them in awe. And then in another wave of green light, my dress changed. Where before it was black, now it was a dark green. I had to laugh again. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you?"
"Well, a queen should wear her king's colors. Especially to such an important event." Well, this was one way to come out as a couple. He reached up and pulled the clip from my hair, letting my curls fall out. He swept them over my left shoulder smiling. "Perfect." 
I rolled my eyes again, but his smile was so damn contagious. How had I gotten so lucky as to have him as my boyfriend? People call him evil, but that's not him at all. He’s sweet, funny, caring and protective. He never ever made me feel that I was unsafe with him. And since we’d been together I knew with all my heart that I could trust him no matter what. Even tonight, when I’d fought with him and was worried about going to this party, I knew he’d never force me to do something I really didn't want to. He’d known how excited I was about tonight and he wasn't going to let me miss out on it. 
I turned from the mirror to meet him face to face, “Thank you. For everything.”
He smiled sweetly, “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss on my lips. It was slow and sweet. But when he pulled back, his eyes roamed over me again. "However, I should warn you. You only have until midnight in that outfit." 
“What am I? Cinderella? Is there a time limit on your magic fairy godmother?” I teased him. 
He shook his head laughing at me. “No.” I tried to turn in his grip but he hauled me back into him, his front still against my back. "But I severely underestimated how well you'd wear my colors. I'm not sure how long I can control myself.” His voice lowered again, speaking in a hushed tone, as if imparting a secret. “You look ravishing darling." He leaned in to place a kiss to the sweet spot just behind my ear. He continued leaving kisses down my neck and I couldn't help it when I leaned my head to the side to allow him more access. His hands gripped my hips tighter as he held me close and as much as I tried to fight it, a small whimper escaped my lips. I felt him smile against my neck at that and I wanted to smack him. But then he leaned up and pressed his lips to mine again. This kiss was much more heated than the one before. More passionate, more promises left to be fulfilled later on. As time went on the electricity only increased between us. We could've been there for seconds or hours I don't even know. All I knew was that at that moment, all I cared about was Loki. 
I was about to return to my earlier stance of ‘screw the party’ when he pulled away again, both of us breathing heavy. But this time, he backed away. I felt cold without his arms around me. “We’ve got a gala to attend.” I groaned at the mention of the party that I was not interested in. “Clock’s ticking, princess.” At that I almost did punch him. He laughed as he leaned in to place one last peck on my cheek. 
“Tease.” I grumbled. He only laughed harder at me. I rolled my eyes but began laughing too as I looped my arm through his. 
“Shall we?” He asked. I nodded and I smiled. For the first time tonight I felt like I could do this. I knew that as long as I had Loki by my side, I could handle anything.  I knew that I was falling, but I also knew that he would be there to catch me. He might not be prince charming, but I’m no princess. I knew we couldn't hide in this fantasy forever, that we were “heroes” and that meant sacrifice. But maybe playing dress up doesn't always have to be a bad thing. 
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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago
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Silent treatment - Din Djarin & Javier Peña. || Preference #1.
Summary: Just a little preference/head cannon on a snipet with Din and Javier dealing with the silent treatment. Enjoy!
Warnings/Content: none but pettiness lol
Din Djarin
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Din is more of the intervert type, he likes the quiet. The shift of light to dark, nothing is more relaxing then the stars that reflect off the 'T' of his visor in complete silence.
While you understand he likes it, you tend not to talk too much, which can be difficult but you find yourself falling into comfortable silence against the mandalorian's chest more than you like to admit.
Quietness was the normal between the clan often because of the excitement that came when they were off the ship, blasters, yelling, threatening was no existent.
The Razor Crest resembled a place of peace, a place where skins real skin can press against your own without worry, he can remove the helmet in the dark to kiss you, kiss promises against your skin, a safe haven.
It would take Din longer than he would like to admit to realize you're not speaking to him, it takes almost hours to realize something is wrong.
There were hints of it, your nose turning up when he entered the cockpit, the small huffs, you avoid his gaze a presence at all times. You would even speak the child with the sweet voice but the moment he walks into the room you're silent.
Finally he's had enough, leaning against the door frame of the cockpit, you in the co-pilot seat with the child, the child holding the ball to show you for the millionth time his favorite toy. You smile sweetly at him, fingers pressing against his ears, rubbing the petals with a coo. The other hand holds out a small chunk of fruit, "Take one bite for me."
The child declines with a whine, making you huff. "C'mon buddy, you can play with the ball later." It's useless.
He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. He stands unsure, hands nervously shaking as he fears the worst. You want to leave. "Is....Is something wrong?"
There's no answer, like he hasn't even said anything just the small gaze that meets him with a grimace. Again, the child distracts you instead. His heart pounds with anticipation as his chest falters.
This makes him frown, muscles straining as he grits his teeth nervously. "Hello?"
The thick tension that fills the air makes it almost impossible to breath for the pair, both are fearful, it's a new relationship, mistakes were still to be made. It pollutes the air with a sickly feeling.
Not only was the Mandalorian surprised, he was frustrated. You can see it in the way he tenses, fingers shake but not in the way his skin turned red under all the armour, that was for him to feel the heat run up his back and blush his neck.
He clearly didn't like the way you responded, long strides until he's between your legs. He stands tall, towering over your sitting figure. Intimidating with his large shoulders, the metal points of his helmet staring down at you. His fingers find your chin, gripping to finally feel your eyes but his words are gentle, pleading. "Tell me.. what is wrong?"
When you don't speak he does, "Cyar'ika, sweet girl if something is wrong you need to tell me."
"You're an idiot." He finds humor in the words, a chuckle tightening his chest.
"Care to elaborate? You say that a lot." Gloved fingers move up your jaw, fingers press against the soft spot in the back of your ear, apply just enough pressure to make it comforting.
"It's not funny. I'm mad at you." Your face was serious, lips pursing with a slight frown. This makes Din sigh, he kneels down until he's at your height still in-between your legs.
"I'm not laughing, I'm sorry. Tell me."
Your words make his heart pound, tears starting to stings eyes, the glossing over makes him worried. "You just jumped into the Krpt Dragon without a worry. You didn't think about me or the child. You don't care if you die.. but I do."
"I do care... You and the child are the only two people I care for." He disagrees, the cool basker pressing against your collarbone, leaning against your body. "I would do anything for you two."
"I know that... But you cannot be risking your life for people like this. I know you like to help but it's too much to loose." You pause, "I can't take it, the thought of loosing you."
The words make him pause. Throughout his life Din has heard a lot of things these words were yours and yours alone. They make him nervous, his breath hitches, he doesn't know how to feel. He's never had to think about this before.. he's was like but now he has a girl, a family waiting for him.
"I-Im sorry." It's uncharacteristic, they way he lifts his helmet just enough to press a soft kiss against your shoulder, another one to your neck before pressing against your lips for one final one, he words whispered against lips. "I never thought about it like that before, forgive me.. I don't want you to worry."
"Well I can't help it." You sniff, a lazy smile at his warmth but his helmet drops back down as you catch of glimpse of blushed lips.
"I'm sorry. I'm not alone anymore, I forget." His arms wrap around your waist pulling you as close as the child on your lap will allow, the basker clad chest should be uncomfortable, cold but it's the exact opposite, warm and safe. "Forgive me Cyare."
"I can never stay mad at you." The words are breathlessly murmured against the small patch of skin on his neck, the spot where you would often pull down in the collar of his tunic to feel his skin. "I love you Bear."
"I love you sweet girl."
Javier Peña
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Javier Peña's life is anything but boring, it's filled with chaos, long nights, alcohol and woman of any kind. The woman is where the problem was, no matter how much you told him it bothered you, that it should be more than just sex, he made sure it didn't.
It was pure raging hot jealousy that seared inside your veins, it crept warmth up the nape of your neck, fist ball under the table of the bar. Murphy must have noticed how violently you are chewing on your bottom lip, eyeing the pair across the bar. "You alright?"
"Fine." You snap rather quickly, eyes growing wide in realization. "Sorry Murph, I'm fine."
His eyes show it all, head tilting with an unamused look. "You don't have to lie to me."
"I'm not I'm just tired." And jealous, so, so jealous that Javier's lips press against the brunettes collar bones, flash of pink as his tongue rolls against her neck, pressing his weight against her.
You knew it was just sex, Javi made sure to let you know despite working together nothing would change, it was just sex , a stress reliever with someone who understood the faults of working for the DEA, the struggles that went with it. Except now it was more, it was those nights with next to each other naked in bed, the kisses, hugs, cute nicknames and the long talks of promises, potential future but now it seems you were never part of it.
He acted as if he were your boyfriend, he often made dinner for you, picking up a coffee before heading into the office for you every morning, he gave you gifts, his main reasoning being "It reminds me of you."
Javier was confusing, late at night after a long day he would confess his affection for you, even let it slip a few times that he loves you, swears you are his other half, his soulmate. Of course it's when he's drunk but you hold onto it being the truth he's afraid to admit.
Javier doesn't notice you leaving that night, he doesn't notice Murphy offering to walk you home, assure you get their safely despite it being right next to his own.
The next morning you decide to go into work a little earlier, hoping your sleepless night filled with tears would be worth it. At least it took your mind off it.
It was like clock work, Javier placing the large coffee cup in front of you on your desk, this time some kind of pastry is next to it, tucked in a wax bag and a kiss presses against your cheek. "Good morning Hermosa."
The silence is uncharacteristic, very seeing he literally has to beg you to shutup sometimes. His face twist into confusion as you pull away from his lips, but the mark still burns against your cheek. The same lips that you know for a fact were all over another woman's body last night.
"What's wrong?" He notices as Murphy shakes his head with a huff, clearly annoyed with his friends ignorance. Javi's eyes drift from his with shrugging shoulders to yours with a look of surprise. "What?"
"I'm going to bring these down to Lopez, meet you in a half an hour downstairs Murph." Your words make Javier's brows flur, why?
The coffee is left, along with the muffin. He sits down at his own desk, leaning over to grab it, he starts to pull it apart, pick at it with ever intent to eat it but suddenly doesn't feel hungry.
"What's her problem?"
"Really Javi? What's her problem?" The words make Javi's jaw clench, he doesn't much care for his friends tone as he speaks. "You're an idiot, you hurt her feelings."
"I didn't do anything! I even got her a muffin today, it's blueberry her favorite!" Javi feels nervous, in all the time he's known you this had never happened; intentionally ignoring him.
"you didn't do anything?" Murphy stands, Javier guesses it's to meet you. "You invited her out last night and then ignored her to fuck a girl in front of her."
"I didn't fuck her, all we did was kiss." Javi hisses back, rubbing over his face with a growl. "Besides we agreed it was just hooking up.'
"Well it doesn't seem to be for her anymore, you need to apologise. She was crying to whole way I walked her home."
"She.. She walked home?" The words sit deep in his gut, squeezing his chest with a soft sigh. No matter how much he tried to help it, all the alochol and woman could distract him from how he feels for you, even when he tries to hide it. His words faulter, "Why didn't you just tell me? I would have walked her home, when I came back you both were gone."
"She didn't want to speak with you, I made sure she got home safe. If it was any of your concern."
The words were sour, a dig that made Javier growl. Of course it was his concern, even thought he promised to never admit it, he cared for you in a way he never has for another person.
Sure he almost got married, had plenty of girlfriends but it wasn't like this. Nothing compared to the feeling of having you close at night, waking up next to you. Javier's fingers shakily reach for a cigarette, watching Murphy slip out of the main office with a huff.
As time went on, Javier couldn't get out of his own head, while they agreed that it was strictly just a way to relieve stress it was also a habit by now.
The nights spent back and forth at each other's houses, the particularly rough days were together, holding each other close.
When he found himself down you were always there, comforting him, making sure he eats telling him that alochol and cigarettes are not a meal, even going as far as making meals for him. Call him selfish, but he didn't want it to end.
The moment he heard that the next group was heading out over the intercom he was up, he knew Murphy and you were going to it, he be dammed if he would ever let you go anywhere near action without him.
You would be fine.. eventually. You give a small smile of reinsurance to Murphy as he slides into the car next to you, but both of your faces drop the moment Javi opens the door, clearing his throat with a nod of acknowledgment.
"Javi.. I thought you weren't on this one?" Murphy questions, rubbing over his face as your eyes narrow at Javier's which are already on you.
"Change of plans." It's gruff, sharp as his narrow back. "Want to tell me what's wrong sweetheart?"
He's only met with more silence, your arms wrapping across your chest as you lean into the seat, eyes roaming over the different shades of green head resting across the glass. It was going to be a long ride.
"Why are you acting like a brat?" It's a dig, he's trying to break this silence, the only way he can think of is to piss you off. "You're acting like a baby."
You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the words turning your head to look at him, then to Steve who looks the other way, deciding now was the perfect time to mind his own business.
Javier obviously doesn't get what the silent treatment is, he shifts, leaning against the seat, spreading his legs to give you the perfect view of his legs, his thighs. There's a small smirk, cocky as his hands run across his inner thigh. "Come talk to me."
It's an invitation one that makes your blood boil, you can't help the words that fall past your lips. "Go ask that girl from the bar, you pig."
"Mmhmm." He mumbles, eyes flickering with that stupid knowing smirk. "You're mad about that mija? I thought we agreed it was no commitments besides I didn't fuck her."
The car comes to a holt, quick you and Steve tumbling towards the seats across where Javier sits, Murphy catches himself hand extending to the seat belt while you find yourself heading toward the window but fingertips softly grapsing your hips stop you, pulling you into a familiar chest.
Steve mumbles something about 'getting to work' and you two being 'ridiculous already' before opening the car door and shutting it.
You're about to follow him by pushing against Javier's chest but his grip never falters. "Relax." He mewls, lips pressing against your neck. "You know you're my girl, my Hermosa."
"I bet you said the same thing to her before you fucked her."
It's a sigh, breathlessly and exaggerated. "I told you I didn't fuck her. We only kissed."
"You could have kissed me." There was no use in struggling, but you managed to keep distance. Cold eyes on his own.
His hand presses against your chin, thumb on the sharpest angle trying to bring his lips to your own, his apology but you move your head to the side.
"I don't think we should do this anymore.." you eyes don't meet his, adverting as all cost. His jaw drops, resembling a fish out of water as it closes, opens to say something but closes against deep in thought as he hears his heart beat in his ears.
His heart stuttering at the words, chest heavy, crushing as he held in a breath. "N-No, I mean it. You're my girl, I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you."
The words sit on the tip of his tongue, his eyes shoot over to Murphy with a group of other officers talking tactics but suddenly he doesn't care about that anymore only the fact his own heart was breaking inside his chest.
"I can share you anymore. I can't do this to myself."
"I'm yours, I-I won't -." He can't seem to say the words, they choke up in his throat, eyes show his internal panic his heart against his mind, Javi didn't commit, this life style didn't allow it.
But when your fingers find the handle, trying to leave the close proximity of the car he knew he'd loose your forever. "I'll stop sleeping around, I'll stop all of it. Only me and you."
Eyes test him, even like this, large bags, no make up you looked beautiful. You're unsure letting out a deep breath, it wasn't looking good. "Please, I need you. You can't just go.."
"You get one chance Javi, one slip up and I'm not putting myself through this." He lets out a sigh of relief heart claiming down for the anticipation but before he could manage another word you open the door, stepping outside. "You coming Agent Peña? I believe you have a dinner to take me to later, since you're officially making me your girlfriend and all. I rather get this over with." Javi smiles, shaking his head as he rolls his eyes at your playfulness.
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buckysglow · 4 years ago
Text
Captive
Chapter 12 - “Deserving”
SUMMARY: You were held captive by Hydra for years and had only just escaped when the Avengers find you. You’re beyond terrified of everyone and everything around you, but the thing the terrifies you the most is yourself. The things you can do with your abilities are beyond what anyone could possibly imagine.
Chapters: 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9a ~ 9b ~ 10 ~ 11 
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AN: Christmas in May, anyone? Sorry this took so long, I just graduated from college! Also, I posted before and asked if you guys prefer to read fics on Wattpad or AO3, and I would love to have your input on that! I am trying to figure out which one I should post my fics on! 
Word Count: Around 5000 
Warnings: Mention of abuse and fluffy fluff 
You tugged Bucky’s large shirt farther down your legs, tip-toeing down the hall before dawn. It would be Christmas in just a few hours and you had to make sure everything was perfect for the team. You had gotten a little creative with your presents, seeing as you didn’t have money of your own and didn’t know much about earning it. You were thankful that most of the team had hobbies of their own and made it much easier for you to find the supplies you needed to make homemade gifts. You worked very hard on their gifts. 
Being what Bucky called “gifted,” you could feel the change in energy in each and every one of your friends. They rarely slept, but when they did, they were so exhausted that their eyes felt heavier than any weights they had lifted that day. And usually their nights were filled with restlessness, tossing and turning, and fighting the covers that were hands in their dreams. Their energy took on a light glow while they slept, one that pulsed with every beat of their heart. Their dreams sometimes became more and more unbearable, as those imaginary hands became their own and they were grasping the neck of another person. Uncontainable, unmanageable guilt became the burden of the night. And you only knew that because that’s what kept you awake; it’s also what kept Bucky awake.
“Everyone has their own shit.” He told you after waking up with a start one night, drenched in sweat. It was usually him comforting you, but this time it was the other way around. He was embarrassed; his dreams made him feel weak and powerless. That’s why you had chosen a dream catcher for him; it would catch those dreams and spirits that kept him awake. 
You had been preparing for this for quite some time now, hiding the supplies you needed in your room, under your bed. You glanced at the newly decorated Christmas tree and smiled. When you were younger, your mom would decorate the whole house with you, and it was one of your favorite things in the world. She could be so kind and loving when she wanted. You smiled at one of the few good memories you had, especially ones with her. While she may have been cruel to you at times, she also had her fun moments. That’s what made hating her or resenting her so difficult. 
While you were being held by Hydra, those were the moments that you thought about most. They are the things you dreamed of experiencing again. This just added even more complicated thoughts to your already spinning mind while you were with those evil men
 to leave one abusive home for another. 
You shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You had work to do. The team was in for a treat. You had been preparing and practicing, not only for the decorations, but for another special surprise. You wouldn’t be able to do it for long, so the timing had to be perfect. 
“Friday,” you whispered, “what time does everyone typically wake up?” 
She ran through everyone’s schedules quickly and you nodded. 
“How many of them use alarm clocks?” You asked, praying that she would say all of them. 
“Sam.” 
You cringed at that answer. “Alright, I’ll think of something
” You made quick work of the decorations, running as quietly as you could from one room to another. When you finished, you stepped back to admire your work. 
Paper snowflakes hung from all over the ceiling, the tree was packed with colorful or shiny items, a copious amount of cotton balls had been stretched and torn to look like snow in various places around the tower, Christmas lights hung, and paper trees placed on shelves and tables. You grinned. It was so pretty. You began to jump on your heels slightly, excited for everyone to be awake. You had about two hours to finish up before they all started stirring. All you had to do was put the finishing touches on their gifts and place them under the tree. 
You sprinted to your room, sweating from the amount of effort this was taking. You froze when you felt Natasha stir in her bed. She was the one you were most worried about waking. If she even felt a slight disturbance, she would immediately be out of bed to find out what was happening. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on her energy. You willed her to stay asleep, praying that she hadn’t heard you. You felt her relax, and your heart eased its rapid beating. 
You gathered as many of their gifts as you could in your hands and brought them out by the tree. You rushed to place them under the tree nicely. You had begun to feel some of them awaken and you rushed to turn the Christmas lights on. You added last minute touches to the decorations, and finally you asked Friday to play Christmas music. 
You felt Bucky begin to stir then. Your heart began to beat a little faster in your chest with nervous excitement. You couldn’t wait to see their reactions, but you were nervous that they wouldn’t like it. You hoped this would be enough. You wanted to make your first Christmas with them special. You wanted them to know that you were beginning to feel comfortable and loved when you were with them. 
“Friday, can you turn the volume up please?” You asked quietly, toes wiggling in your worn slippers. Natasha was the first one out of bed, followed by Steve and Bucky. You could feel them move from their beds and see their energy begin to pulse a little brighter. You were grinning as you felt Tony begin to stir. 
When you felt them all leave their rooms, you were nearly exploding with excitement. They were making their way toward the common area, most likely heading for the kitchen for breakfast and coffee. Bucky was falling a little behind the rest, and you were quick to send more energy toward him. 
When they had all finally made their way down the hall and into the common area, you were quick to grin at them, “Merry Christmas!” 
Their eyes were wide with shock as they took in the decorations and lights. Steve’s smile was growing and Natasha was leaning against the door frame with a small smirk on her lips. Bucky was staring at the ceiling, a look of amazement on his face. 
“When did you do all of this?” Steve asked, hand running over the snow you had made from cotton balls. 
“Last night! Do you like it?” You asked, feeling breathless. 
“This is so pretty, (Y/N)!” Wanda exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug. 
“Just promise me you’re gonna clean all this up when Christmas is over,” Tony stated dramatically. He suddenly seemed to notice the tree, “Gifts, huh?”
Sam elbowed him hard, silently telling him to shut up. He gestured in your direction. You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. You pulled away from Wanda, hopping on the balls of your feet a bit. You threw yourself into Bucky’s arms and hugged him tightly, barely able to contain your excitement. “Yes, um- I have gifts for you all, but do you want to eat first?” You clasped your hands in front of you and hopped in front of the kitchen, knowing that they would all want their morning coffee. 
“I could use some coffee,” Natasha smiled. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, “Merry Christmas. You did an amazing job.” 
“Did you happen to make breakfast? That would have been nice instead of you making a mess,” Tony asked in his typical tone, sauntering into the kitchen. You just rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. The rest of the team followed, leaving you and Bucky behind.
You turned to look at Bucky, meeting his unwavering gaze. “Merry Christmas,” you breathed, you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Do you like it?” 
He made his way toward you slowly, tilting your head with his finger, his lips lingered against your forehead, “You are amazing
” 
Once everyone had eaten, you were all gathered in the common area. Christmas movies were playing on the large screen, but the volume was low as you all talked happily with one another. You were seated on the floor between Wanda and Bucky’s legs. Natasha sat on the floor across from you. Steve was laughing about something Sam had said, fingers playing with one of the toy motorcycles hanging on the tree. Sam was seated on the arm of the loveseat that Tony had sprawled out in. You looked at each of them, a content smile on your face. 
This was the first time since you were young that you had felt accepted. There would always be worms of doubt in your head, but for now, they were under control. They were not slinking their way into the moment. Your fingers brushed against Bucky’s calf and he looked down at you, only to find you grinning up at him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead. 
There was wrapping paper and bows sprawled across the floor from their gifts. You had loved watching their eyes light up with warmth and happiness, and you felt a little bit of the weight you carried on your shoulders fall away. Natasha was wiggling her fingers in the mittens you made her, which made you smile and giggle. 
“When I go to visit Clint, I’ll bring them the gifts,” she had told you when you pointed out that you made him and his family gifts as well. 
“He said he wants to FaceTime later, so he can see them then.” Wanda interjected, smiling mischievously. They all had their own plans and gifts for you as well, but you had no idea. 
You didn’t seem to care about receiving anything at all. “I made Thor something as well, but he will have to wait,” you giggled, thinking about how excited he would be to get the tiny hammer you had painted to look like mjolnir. 
“So what you’re saying is that you stole from me.” Tony said sarcastically.
“Didn’t steal, I just borrowed... in a sense.” You giggled. 
The team revealed that they hadn’t received a handmade gift in years and that they loved them. Each of them was playing with their gifts or wearing them. A moment of silence wrapped around everyone as they peered down at their gifts. 
“I know it’s not much, and you’re all probably used to nicer things, but I hope you like them.” You said, sheepishly peering at your acquired family. 
“We love them!” Wanda assured you. 
“These are so much better than any gifts you could have bought us, (Y/N).” Natasha nodded. 
“Even though you stole most of the stuff that you used,” Tony said, pulling his glasses down slightly, “you did good, kid.” 
“Good,” you breathed a sigh of relief. You stood up slowly, pulling the ends of your shirt nervously, “I have one more surprise for you all.” 
You carefully made your way to the doorway, standing behind the couch that Bucky and Wanda were sitting on. Everyone was watching you with questioning eyes, wondering what else you could have possibly made for them. “It might take a try or two, but I have been practicing this since my little incident a few weeks ago.” You admitted timidly. 
Your heart was thudding hard in your chest, nerves making their way up your throat. You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and closed your eyes. You pictured gold, soft and twinkling, dancing in the sky. You imagined a gentle, gold glow and shimmers of it. You slowly opened your eyes. The team was staring upward, mouths agape and eyes awed. Tony pulled his glasses from his face, mouth open in amazement.
A golden, glowing river flowed above them. Shimmers and flecks of gold rained down slowly, twinkling brightly. Your typical ribbons were moving slowly, wrapping themselves into loose coils. You pushed yourself a little harder, motivated by the childlike wonder on your family’s faces. You conjured up tiny horses and faceless people, some ice skating, others dancing or playing in the golden snow in the space above your heads. 
“Wow,” you heard Steve whisper in amazement. You smiled, watching the team closely with their soft and content faces. You loved making others happy. Your eyes flickered over to Bucky, and one of the ice skaters made their way to him. They spun gracefully in front of his nose. His smile was unforgettable. 
But soon, you could feel your energy dimming, so you gave one last push. The gold above burst silently into thousands of golden flecks, hanging in the air for a second, and then lazily falling down onto the team. Sweat had collected on your upper lip from the amount of effort it took, and finally, you felt your energy give way. 
The gold came flying back into your chest. You blew out a breath, hands shaking with exhaustion. The team looked over at you, smiles still on their faces. Subconsciously, you were aware that they didn’t look scared of your white eyes. You were smiling at them, proud of yourself for succeeding. You accomplished more than you thought you would have. Even if it was only for a minute or two, you had held it longer and made more images at one time than you ever had before. 
“That was the coolest thing I have ever seen,” Sam muttered, mostly to himself, but the team was nodding in agreement. 
“The little snowballs?” Steve asked, leaning over to him. 
“The coolest!” Sam exclaimed. 
You gave an airy laugh, feeling a little lightheaded. Bucky was at your side immediately, leading you to the couch. 
“That was pretty badass, goldy locks! I thought you could only do that when you were scared!” Tony declared, looking a little stunned. 
“I’ve been practicing in my room
 far away from people, so
” you laughed lightly. Natasha was still looking upward, a dreamy look in her eyes. Her face was relaxed, in a faraway place. Wanda grasped your arm with excitement, 
“Can you show me how to do that? I’ve never made images with mine!”
You giggled weakly, “I can try. I’m not quite sure how I do it, I just picture it in my head.”
“That was amazing, Doll,” Bucky whispered, lips grazing your ear. 
“Thank you,” you sighed, snuggling deeper into the couch next to him. 
“You’re amazing, you know that?” He said quietly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You hummed happily in response, a tired smile on your lips. “That didn’t hurt you?” He asked quietly. The others were still talking about their favorite parts of your show. 
You shook your head, taking a deep breath and continuing, “It did in the beginning, but after a while the pain just
 went away.” 
He nodded, kissing your temple, “Take a nap. We will be here when you wake up.” And as you started to doze off, you heard Bucky laugh and say, “But did you see the ice skater in front of my face?” 
~
“Wake her up; I can’t wait any longer to give her our gifts!” You heard Wanda exclaim.
You suddenly felt cold, metallic fingers glide over your cheek, and your eyes fluttered. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” Sam exclaimed, sitting opposite of you behind the coffee table. The coffee table had gifts strewn all over it and your eyes widened slightly. 
You looked around the room in question, “Those
 are those for me?” 
Steve tilted his head, while Natasha nodded at you, a soft smile gracing her face. Bucky was grinning widely beside you. 
“You didn’t have to do this,” you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. 
“Open mine first; you’re going to like it more than the others!” Tony teased, throwing a wink your way. 
Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony, “We wanted to do this, trust me.” 
“The bigger one is mine,” Tony pushed, ignoring the sappy moment you were having. You laughed and proceeded to open the array of gifts around you. You were surprised with each one, not expecting such generosity from them. Tony had gotten you a laptop and a phone because you “were behind the times.” Wanda had given you a gift card to a clothing boutique downtown, saying that she was going to take you shopping before the New Years party; this excited and terrified you at the same time. Natasha bought you adorable cow slippers after finding out that your favorite animals were cows. You immediately put them on and were repeatedly wiggling your toes in them. Steve and Sam gave you yellow boxing gloves and said that the matching punching bag was in the training room—it was even bedazzled at the bottom. 
You couldn’t stop smiling. In fact, your face hurt from smiling and laughing so much. 
“Clint’s calling!” Wanda exclaimed, placing her phone on the coffee table. She pressed the green button and up popped his face. 
“That is so cool,” you whispered to Bucky, amazed at how quickly technology has changed. 
“Gets me everytime,” he whispered back, planting a kiss on your cheek. 
“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Clint exclaimed, his wife and children popping up to say hi. You grinned and waved back. “Hope I didn’t miss anything,” Clint said. 
“Just in time,” Wanda assured him. 
“Clint,” you started softly, “I made you and your family gifts; they’re not much, but—“
“They’re amazing, look!” Natasha interrupted you, turning the phone to show him the gifts you had made them. 
“They’re gonna love the bears!” You heard Clint’s wife exclaim. “Thank you, (Y/N), we love them!” 
“My turn to give you something though.” Clint said, and Natasha placed the phone back to face you. Everyone began to smile softly, knowing that Clint had worked hard to pull this one off. “After hearing about your grades and that you didn’t get to go to graduation, I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he explained, fiddling with his phone. Tony was quick to pull out his own and began swiping. You chewed the inside of your cheek, nerves growing as he continued to talk, “You worked so hard to fit in and I know that’s not easy, so I wanted to do this for you.” Tony swiped one last time, and an image of a high school diploma popped up above your head. 
Your eyebrows drew together as you read the name of your school and a loud gasp burst through your lips. “That says my name!” You exclaimed, standing up to read it closely. 
“I talked to your school and the school board, and had some people pull some strings,” Clint explained.
“It’s me. I’m some people,” Tony smiled cockily.
You covered your mouth in shock as you read your name over and over again. “You deserved this and so much more, kid,” Clint said softly. When he had heard what your mother did and that your chance to graduate was ripped from you as a teenager, he knew he had to do this for you. He pictured his own kids, and how proud he would be if they had achieved what you had. He had to do this for you. 
Your bottom lip began to wobble, and you took a deep breath to keep them from falling.“I can’t begin to explain how much this means to me,” you whispered, voice cracking, “thank you so much.” 
Clint smiled at you and his wife hugged him closer. She knew how much this meant to him and had helped him talk to your school board. 
“I wish you were here so that I could hug you,” you laughed lightly, wiping away the stray tears that fell. 
“You’ll see me soon, kid!” He laughed, loving that you were looking so happy.
 “We have one more gift for you,” Steve said softly, “We’ve all talked it over, and decided that we think you’re ready.” Wanda grabbed your hand and smiled brightly at you, pulling you to sit back down next to her. You really couldn’t think of anything better than the gifts you had received so far. 
“We are going to wait until after Tony’s New Years Eve party, but we think we should take you back to your hometown for a weekend.” The tears were immediate and fast paced. You buried your face in the sleeves of Bucky’s sweatshirt in an attempt to hide them. 
“It’s up to you if you want to go, but we think you should visit,” Natasha whispered, pressing a comforting hand to your knee. 
“I-I’m a li-little overwhelmed,” you blubbered, with a loud laugh. The team was quick to respond with their own quiet laughter. “I w-wanna show you guys my favorite book store!” You giggled, and this made them all laugh a little louder, “thank you all so much, I wish I could repay you for everything, for saving me
 I just- I promise I will!” 
“Aw, goldy locks!” Tony exclaimed, “I’ll take you up on that one day! For now, just try not to stab any of us with those gold things!”
 You ripped your hands from your face to see that your fingertips were glowing brightly. Your eyes widened at the realization that your chest didn’t hurt. You held your hand out, watching as it shook with your emotions, but not with pain or agony. “It doesn’t hurt,” you whispered, sounding amazed. 
“What?” Bucky asked you, leaning closer to hear what you had said. 
“It doesn’t hurt
 I didn’t know I was doing it and it didn’t hurt,” you stated, looking at him with wide eyes. You looked back at your hands, holding both of them out in front of you, pressing your energy forward slightly, testing the waters. Ribbons wrapped themselves around your fingers, moving slowly, looking like snakes as they made their way to the ground. You were so overwhelmed with emotions—joy, relief, happiness, disbelief— were you finally free from the agony? What had changed? Was it that you finally felt loved? Your lips twitched with a shaky smile. Bucky made eye contact with Steve, and the two of them were so proud of how far you had come in the short, few months you had been with them. 
Careful, that evil voice spoke in the back of your head, don’t get too cocky now. You don’t want to lose control.
You gasped, letting out a quiet yelp. Your energy shot violently back into your body and you wheezed at the suddenness of it all. 
“Whoa,” Bucky cooed, grasping your shoulders to steady you, “you’re alright, you’re fine.” 
“S-sorry,” you stuttered breathlessly, “I got nervous.” 
“You’ve pushed yourself quite a bit today,” Wanda assured you softly, after peeking inside your thoughts for a split second. 
You sat back into Bucky’s chest, nodding absentmindedly. 
“Yeah, I think that’s enough of the golden light show,” Tony stated, grasping Wanda’s phone, “not that we don’t love to see what you can do because what you did earlier was amazing, and Barton missed it all!” He pointed and laughed sarcastically. 
“It was pretty cool, Barton!” Natasha agreed, smirking at the phone. 
“What? What did I miss?” He cried, making you giggle and shake your head at their teasing. 
~
After the team had opened all their gifts and dispersed to relax or prepare for the night ahead, you were left alone with Bucky. 
“Hey, Doll,” he cooed against your forehead, loving the sleepy look on your face. You hummed a response. Your head was buried in his chest, breathing in his comforting smell. His body was humming with soft energy, causing you to relax even deeper into his side. “I got you a gift,” he whispered.
You looked up at him, secretly reveling in the fact that he remembered to get you something. You were a little disappointed earlier when you hadn’t received anything from him, of all people. Not that it was about the gift, but the thought behind it. You had believed, for just a moment, that he had forgotten to get you something. 
“Oh, yeah?” You grinned, inching closer to his face. He grinned right back before reaching behind the couch and pulling out a small box. “Oh, Bucky, no
” you pouted, knowing full well that it was jewelry, based on the box alone. 
“Just open it,” he chuckled, pushing it into your hands. 
“I can’t accept this,” you objected weakly, smiling at him as you pushed it back at him. 
“You haven’t even opened it yet!” He laughed, removing his hands completely from the box to force you to catch it.
 You bit the inside of your cheek nervously as you lifted the lid of the box to reveal a garnet ring. It was encased in a gold cage and placed nicely on top of a golden band. You looked up at him with pure bliss. “It’s a garnet,” you whispered happily, fingers running over the gem. 
“It is,” he nodded, moving your hair away from your neck, “I- um- I did a lot of research and garnets are known as the stone of courage, and they are worn to guard against danger
 and they are also supposed to help with the - um- heart and blood and stuff
 Plus, I wanted to get you your own ring, so that you wouldn’t have to keep borrowing Wanda’s.” He was mumbling nervously now, unsure about his gift now that it was being opened. 
You grinned up at him, “I love it, Bucky, thank you. This is too much.”
A sigh of relief whooshed past his lips, but he was quick to replace it with his mock confidence. You adored that he had put so much thought into it for you, knowing that it was no coincidence that it was this particular stone. “I hope you don’t think it’s weird that I got you something so
” he mumbled again, watching as you removed Wanda’s ring from your small finger, and replaced it with his.
 “No,” you shook your head, “I don’t think it’s weird. I actually think it’s very sweet.” 
The two of you fell into a tense silence, and you both found that nerves had settled in your stomachs. You bit your lip and glanced at Bucky quickly. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration. His eyes looked far away. You tilted your head to the side, looking at him curiously.
“You okay?” You asked quietly, unsure what was happening. 
“Yeah...yes, I just have to do something,” he rushed out, startling you. 
His hands were quick to encase your face. 
He pulled you forward in one motion, and his lips found yours. You jumped instinctively, but as soon as your brain caught up with your body, your lips were moving in perfect sync with his. His hands found their way to the back of your head, tangling his fingers at your roots. Your shaky hands were taking their time to find his bearded face, and you sighed into his mouth. 
You couldn’t even bring yourself to remember how many times you had imagined this moment with him, but every time you had, you pictured yourself being a nervous mess. This time, though, you found yourself more comforted by his lips than anything. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this from him. He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath.
“I have been wanting to do that for so long,” He whispered, lips grazing your nose. You hummed, eyes still closed. There was a sense of comfort that you had never experienced before, and while your heart raced in your ears, it wasn’t from fear, but from excitement. “I hope that was okay,” He whispered, his metal hand moving the strand of hair that fell in your face. 
You nodded, eyes fluttering open to look at him, “It was more than okay.” 
This was a first for you. A first of feeling this heart wrenching excitement, and your first kiss. You didn’t know if you should tell him, but before you could stop yourself, you pressed another kiss to his lips. “That was my, um— that was my first...“
Bucky’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he looked over your features. His eyes suddenly went wide, “That was your first kiss?” He grabbed your tiny hands in his. 
The side of your mouth quirked, and you shyly looked down at your joined hands, nodding. 
“Oh, baby,” He murmured, pulling you closer to him. You couldn’t tell if there was pity or admiration in his eyes, but you couldn’t get yourself to feel anything other than overwhelming elation. “I can’t wait to show you how much more there is to life than the inside of a cell
 if you let me
” 
You smiled up at him, big and wide. You couldn’t wait either. 
@jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes @multi-fan @krugeforeveryone @meshlababy @larry-pringles @witchymarvelspacecase @melconnor2007 @ohnosiren​ 
@nopevilleluas @winter--plum @poe-also-bucky @serzhantjamesbuchananbarnes @life-is-fuucked @emilyinbuffalo @buckybarnesisalittleshit @theboldandthebootyful @dr121413 @buckysquad @smartashes @notsoprettykitty  @tjhammomd @linsteadandchicagopdarelife @justareader @whatsbetterthanfantasy @nikkitia7 @intenselyupset @thenightmarebeforebucky @sebatmanstan @feelmyroarrrr @dazedandcarefree @fly-f0rever @skeletoresinthebasement @colouredwater @cierrabolton @hotemotionalmess @lady-sloan @avixenrose @captainmqmeep @professionally-crazed @ponyboys-sunsets @abimarvelparker @buckysbestgirll @buckybarnesisapreciousplum @sarcastic-ohohoh @notsoluckybucky @angel34jolly-blog @kitherey @heismyhunter @steadysuitenthusiast @bxckybxrnes02 @irreplaceable-spacexual @stephanieluvspie @canumoveyourseatup-no @cicismith95 @kinqshley @buckybuchanan @bxtchybrie @almondbuttercup @deanmonlove @missmalfoy1703 @petitelaurie9 @jade-cheshire @mrs-pendragonofthetardis @themistsofmyavalon @archer-whovian-violinist @gypsygirllover19 @maygenjayne1 @zhang91yixing @rileyloves5 @brutalwerewolf @fizzylollipop12 @sergeant-buchanan @followeroonieclassic @marvelgoateecollection @gingerbatchwife @sofiadiaz04 @hatterripper31 @mellifluous-melodramas @lilasiannerd @james-bionic-barnes @the-introverted-photographer @betherz5683
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seouliie · 4 years ago
Text
bikini bottoms (m)
having a job as a lifeguard on the beach has you doing many things you’ve never done before. stopping fights between a 5 year old and a seagull, spending hours trying to dig a jeep out of a 4 foot hole some doofus had dug, and lastly, giving jung hoseok a blowjob.
Tumblr media
(gif from weheartit)
GENRE: e2l, smut, lifeguard!au
WORDS: 2753
MEMBER: jung hoseok
WARNINGS: really only a blowjob, implied smut, possible part two, hoseok is a fuckboy, mention of sexual harassment, there’s banter in this and hoseok slaps yn’s ass, but it’s all playful!!
The wooden chair of the lifeguard tower creaks as you sit down, as if releasing a heavy sigh after a long night of no usage, now to be sat on at the fresh time of 10 am- the start of your work day. From above, the people now rolling in to the beach start appearing, encouraged by the sunny sky and beautiful weather to get on their swimsuits and hop in the clear water.
This was an everyday thing for you- and you loved it. The fresh air seemingly always in the atmosphere, tinted by the salty smell of the sea, the sun, the sand- everything. It was the perfect way to start your day, and the perfect day to end it. Your mornings could never go wrong at the beach.
From the corner of your eye, you can see the outline of a rather familiar figure making his way towards the lifeguard tower, a frown naturally forming onto to your lips.
Well, except for one thing.
Meet Jung Hoseok, the heartthrob of the beach. Not gonna lie, the only reason you haven't filed a complaint for him to get fired was because almost half of the people who come to the beach are teenagers who want a piece of him. Not just him- his dick. If he did evidently get fired, then less people would actually come, meaning less money for you. Yes, you have thought this through before. And you prefer money.
"______!"
You sigh, not wanting to interact with this sex machine at least until you've had your third cup of coffee. Lazily, you respond: "Yes, Hoseok?"
He smiles when you make eye contact with him, his gaze pure and playful. "You left your shoes at the shed! I wanted to bring them to you!" A hand covers his eyes from the rays of the sun, and he lifts his other hand to reveal your pair of dark blue flip-flops hanging off his middle finger.
"I know, Hoseok," you reply. "I leave them on purpose. I don't like the feeling of shoes on a beach." You rake a hand through your hair, your strands getting blown into your eyes from the slight wind.
"Well, I brought them, so you might as well wear it." He smirks as he waves the shoes around mockingly. From afar, the sound of a baseline is audible, hinting that the car of the boy-crazy girls have arrived.
You scoff. "Just throw them up or something. Don't you know how? Weren't you captain of your basketball team?"
Hoseok laughs, a sound that- for some reason- causes your stomach to flurry. "First of all, I was not captain and I barely played since the coach despised me. Secondly, I will not throw these up, and you will come down to get them."
High-pitched laughter rings through your ears, causing your mood to already turn negative. You roll your eyes. "Don't you have some girls to fuck? I can practically hear them calling your name already in their squeaky ass voices like some fourth graders."
At this, the raven haired boy pouts, slight wind brushing his bangs into his eyes. "Come on, I'm trying to be nice, princess."
You bit your lip. The sun was pretty hot today, the wood burning up below your feet. Maybe you should put some comfort between your skin the the fiery hot chair. "Alright fine." You stand up and turn around, going down the ladder one foot at a time.
Little did you know, Hoseok was not focused at all on giving your shoes back. After he saw you climbing down the little wooden stubs, his eyes were trained on your ass, naturally pushed out each step. Once stepping onto the grainy smooth sand, you swiftly grab your shoes from his hand, pulling him out of his trance.
You bend down to slide the soft material onto your feet and shake your head. "God, making me do all this extra work for nothing-"
A hard smack to your ass cuts you off mid-sentence. Jung fucking Hoseok. Almost breaking your neck from looking up so fast, you notice that the human incarnated form of aggravation is not in front of you like he was a second ago. He's halfway up the ladder.
"Hoseok!" You cry, shocked by how he slapped your ass and how he climbed the goddamn thing so fast. "The hell are you doing?"
"Getting away from those girls." He says as he reaches for another slab of woob. "Jesus, you fuck them once, and they get all attached."
The group of girls have already set up their towel on the pale sand, one of them already oiling themselves up. He fucked them all? Like.. at once or all tog- You huff a breath of air. You are not going to be thinking about that right now.
"Not all at once, of course," He calls out, which makes you wonder if you were thinking out loud. "Although it definitely wasn't individual." Hoseok talks with a sly tone, raising a brow at you.
Looking back at the girls, you see them talking amongst themselves. However, they are all turning their heads, looking for one thing- the thing that's sitting at the top of the lifeguard tower.
Realization hits you like a truck. "Jung Hoseok, you are not leaving me with those maniacs."
He snorts, raking a hand through his hair. "Yes you are! I got you your shoes, do me this favor."
You could not believe the audacity of this man. He practically forced you to take the shoes, and now as a 'favor' you had to deal with those hoes who you only wish would get a grip of self worth so they stop chasing after that man? What a great way to start your day.
"Oh my fucking God." Anger is flowing through your veins, taking over your thoughts and actions, and you no longer can feel your sanity. "This is not a fucking favor, this is you manipulating me for you sake, so fuck you slutty bitch!"
The sand is wet and warm as you roll it into a ball, turning around and chucking it at Hoseok’s head. You barely miss his slim face and hit his neck, but still doing damage by getting stuck to his skin. "That's for slapping my ass, asshole."
You miss the way he eyes your leaving figure up and down after wiping the sand off his neck. Oh, he just loved messing with you.
-----
Swimsuits are tight. They curve around one's body perfectly, almost painfully, used for swimming or other water activities. They're actually pretty comfortable, if you do say so yourself, and you take pride in knowing the way your body looks in the bright red one piece of the lifeguard apparel.
But wet swimsuits are a whole 'nother story. Wet swimsuits are the devil themselves. They're sticky and distressing and tight, feeling like hell in spandex form suffocating your body and not letting you get the blood you need. Not to mention they take almost an hour to take off.
"God, can't I just take it off?" You whisper to no one in particular. The pad of your thumb scrolls through Instagram, images of other people's picture-perfect lives on view to the world. Feeling itchy, you continuously adjust your swimsuit, trying to find some relief for the discomfort you currently felt.
Sounds from the door break the much appreciated silent atmosphere you were miraculously blessed with, of course broken by the one and only  Jung Hoseok. "Help me," he quickly says, slamming the door of the hut shut. There's still some sand stuck on his bare upper chest from where you've hit him.
You scoff and look back down to your screen. "Help yourself, Jung. You've clearly been doing that the whole day, anyways." You squeeze your eyes shut as memories from earlier in the day came rushing at you.
The girls approached you right after you walked away from throwing the sand at Hoseok, ignoring the way he screamed your name repetitively. Not only did they waste your time by asking you where Hoseok was, but once you wouldn't let them go up the lifeguard tower, it got into a heated argument and one girl had the audacity to throw you into the fucking water.
She was strong, not gonna lie, but over what? A simple fuck? From the man who probably has a little tic-tac anyways? Oh, how you went off on them.
"They, uh-" Hoseok's voice slightly cracks, and he's talking in a slight panicked way, fast and mumbled. "They sort of attacked me- harassed me."
You look up. "They harassed you? You mean like... harassed harassed or harassed harassed?" He just blinks and shyly points to his trunks.
"Harassed harassed." Your eyes trail down, and the little bulge in Hoseok's pants momentarily shocks you.
"Holy shit, Hoseok."
Eyes wide, he nods. "I know. They fucking went after me once I got down the tower, so I ran here as fast as I could." When his breathing begins to slow, Hoseok moves to stand next to the big wooden table in the center of the room. "God, crazy bitches."
"And you got turned on from that?"
Not from them, he thinks to himself. But he wasn't about to let you know that he was already having his senses heightened after he saw your wet figure in the water.
"Well not exactly. It's kind of, just, you know," he sighs in defeat and shakes his bangs.
"And you want me to help... how?"
Hoseok stares at you, saying nothing. And you realize it.
"No, Hoseok, no way." You click your phone off and set it on the armrest of the wooden chair. "I'm not gonna sleep with you."
He lets out a frustrated groan. "I'm not asking you to sleep with me, just help me deal with this!" His hair comes out slightly ruffled after he rakes his hand through it. "I can't walk around with a fucking tent in my shorts around everybody. There's children!"
It takes all your self control and dignity to not look down at his crotch once again, for the outline is becoming more and more visible as the seconds roll on. And you've got to admit, he doesn't look as small as you thought. "Why should I do that? You've basically ruined my whole day by tricking me into getting down from the tower so I had to deal with those psychos. Not to mention, you slapped my ass and one of them threw me in the goddamn water!"
"Okay, well," Hoseok tries to counter argue. "You... threw sand at me." He knew he wasn't convincing anyone with that. "Please ________ just help me. I swear I'll make it up to you."
You think. You actually think about it. Blame it on the fact that the Jung Hoseok is practically begging you for it. An amused idea runs through your mind as you think of all the things you could make Hoseok do for you, all the embarrassment that would come with it, all the revenge you would finally get. Without saying anything, you make eye contact with his desperate form and stand up, walking towards him. His eyes widen.
"Woah, you're actually gonna-"
"Stop talking." You turn the both of you around and push him onto the chair, kneeling down in front of him. Hoseok is so stunned he doesn't even realize he bumped your phone off the armrest and onto the sandy floor. His breath gets stuck in his throat at the sight of you on your knees, ready to take him in your mouth. You run both of your hands up his thighs before slowly outlining his cock lightly with your fingertips.
"Jesus Christ," he breaks underneath your touch. He couldn't believe he was gonna get sucked off by you, the girl who's hated him since they first met. It was unbelievably hot. He sucks in a harsh breath when you squeeze his clothed dick. "Please don't fucking tease me, ______"
His length hardens in your hand when you begin to sensually rub your palm against it. You would be lying if you said that you weren't even the slightest bit turned on. "Patience, Hoseok," you grin. "God, you're so desperate for me, huh?"
A whimper. Jung Hoseok fucking whimpers.
Dominant, cocky Hoseok, just whimpered. For you. And it went straight to your core.
Rubbing your thighs together, you opt for some relief from the tingling you felt. Hoping to distract yourself, you toy with the waistband of his swim trunks for a few seconds before finally pulling them down his thighs.
It was much different than you would've ever imagined. In the past whenever you thought about his dick, which was rarely ever, you obviously knew he was packing some size considering the amount of times he slept around. However, seeing it in person has outdid all of your previous expectations. His dripping cock had length to it, but the thickness was shocking. It was unbelievably thick.
"Fuck," you whisper. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, your fingertips barely able to touch each other. You give it a light squeeze before slowly sliding up.
Hoseok is watching your every move, his hands forming fists by his side to keep him from thrusting himself into your grip. "_____- shit." He leans his head back, clenching his jaw as you spread his precum around his length, making sure to coat every spot with his juice. The sight of his throat bobbing up and down makes your eyes flutter. God, why is he so hot right now.
"Your so naughty, Hoseok." You lightly trail your tongue up his cock, keeping your eyes on him the whole way up. Wrapping your lips around the head, Hoseok whimpers once again when you begin to suck on the swollen tip. He can't hold back anymore and snakes his hand into your hair, pulling at the roots while letting out deep groans.
When you take all of him in one go, he slowly pushes down on your head so that his tip meets the back of your throat. The sound of you quietly gagging sends him into overdrive, his body shaking from the pleasure. You grasp at his thighs, clawing your nails into his skin. "______, please please please, fuck."
Remembering a tip your friend once gave you, you hollow your cheeks and suck, continuously bobbing your head up and down. Obviously, your friend knows what she's doing, basing off of the way Hoseok lets out a loud vocal moan and thrusts wildly into your mouth. You've never seen him like this- so unhinged and in a way almost pathetically desperate. It was turning you on beyond belief.
He's close and it's obvious, sweat dripping down the side of neck, letting out a string of curses and swears as he gets closer to his high.
"Fuck, _____ don't stop, p-please don't stop." His voice sends a rush of warmth to your core, and his other hand releases the grip on the armrest to join the other in pulling your hair. Both of his hands are grabbing at your head, and you move even faster, giving his throbbing cock a couple swirls with your tongue until finally he's squeezing his eyes shut and releasing his seed into your mouth. The warmth in your throat seems to never end, akin to the strings of moans Hoseok lets out. After swallowing, you release his cock with a pop and wipe his cum off of your chin with the back of your hand.
Hoseok tilts his head back and keeps his hands in your hair, wanting to pause for a while for him to catch his breath. "Goddamn, ______." He lets out a breathless laugh.
You smile breathlessly and rub your hands up to his abs, tracing the outline lightly with your fingertips. His eyes darken again as they watch your lips swollen red and with his cum dripping down the sides. He forces himself to loosen his grip on your hair and slowly pulls his hands back.
You grab it before he can fully retreat. He looks at you, confused. A soft laugh escapes your lips.
"You still owe me a favor, shit head.”
110 notes · View notes
lynnpaper · 4 years ago
Note
“i brought you a blanket.” please and thanks!
sonder! thank you for the ask! 😊
this is also... one of the softest things i've ever written. i hope you like it! :)
(from these prompts)
She finds him on the roof.
It wasn’t her intention, but it had been pretty hard to ignore the distress that seemed to bleed from him with every step he took. He’d made promises. Promises to protect, and promises to succeed, to the Council and to his men. But Separatist forces do not care about promises, and battle droids do not care about the emotional consequences of conflict. Battle droids do not have emotions.
Anakin sometimes wishes he didn’t have emotions.
He sits on the cold stone of the roof, dangling his feet over the edge, watching the speeders as they cross over and under and perpendicular to each other. It’s quiet and peaceful and as far away from any life forms as he can get.
It’s cold on the roof.
Ahsoka steps out of the hangar and hops over the railing, past the point that Jedi Masters would frown at her disapprovingly for crossing. The stone ground is smooth here, where barely anyone treads; the closer she gets to the edge, the bigger the city seems.
Anakin keeps his back to her, but he sits so still his shoulders must be rigid. The rise and fall of his shoulders is practically nonexistent. Ahsoka wonders if he’s even breathing.
She can tell he’s upset. It hurts to see him upset.
Anakin hears her even before she jumps the railing. He doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is—it cannot be anybody else.
“You shouldn’t be up here,” Anakin says. The cool night air carries his voice in all different directions, and the words barely reach her.
Ahsoka doesn’t respond. Her footsteps grow closer, the soft tap-tap-tap of her combat boots reverberating off the stone ground.
“It’s very late, Ahsoka,” Anakin says. As if the time of night means anything to her.
Nothing. Not even a huff to prove her exasperation.
“You should be asleep,” Anakin says. His eyes follow a speeder as it races across the front of a skyscraper, before merging with the main line of traffic and disappearing into the kaleidoscopic streak of reds and yellows and greens.
The footsteps stop. So should you, he expects her to reply.
“I brought you a blanket.”
Anakin turns around, more on instinct than by choice. He’s inclined to respond with “what?” or “why?” but the moment he sees Ahsoka standing there with a brown padawan robe over her shoulders, the hem brushing the ground beside her feet, all words die in his throat.
The towering spires of the temple’s roof make her look so small. She stands too far away for him to make out her expression in the darkness, but close enough for him to see the blanket folded and tucked under her arm as promised. Her padawan beads glint where they rest between her montrals, catching the light when she tilts her head.
It’s windy on the roof. The breeze blows his hair into his eyes, but he doesn’t push it aside. His skin prickles, the thin sleeves of his tunic doing nothing between him and the wind. For someone who grew up on Tatooine, Anakin doesn’t seem to mind the chill.
Ahsoka walks toward him silently. He’d been too reserved since they had returned in the afternoon, his eyes downcast and hands fidgeting as he debriefed the 501st, losing focus and burning himself on the soldering iron as he repaired fighters in the hangar, eating next to nothing at dinner before quietly excusing himself from the table.
Anakin looks away. He keeps his eyes trained on the night sky before him, his hands clasped tightly on his lap.
He would rather be alone.
Ahsoka knows this. Ahsoka doesn't care.
She’s right behind him now, close enough for him to hear her soft breaths and the gentle rustle of her robe. He hears her unfold the blanket, feels the warm weight of it as she drapes it over his shoulders, and almost sighs as the chill dissipates, resisting the urge to pull it tighter around himself.
Ahsoka lowers herself to the ground beside him, her legs dangling off the edge just like his. It should make him anxious, his padawan sitting right on the edge of the roof, the ground a long, long way away. The slanting outer walls of the temple drop down hundreds of meters, but she can catch herself if she falls. There are worse ways to go—some grounds rise to meet you if they think you’ll never hit them.
Something light drops on his lap. Anakin looks down and finds a ration bar. Then he looks to his left, to find Ahsoka biting into one of her own. She stares right back, chews for a second, and swallows. “You didn’t eat,” she says.
Anakin looks down at the little packet on his lap again. It’s one of the better-tasting ration bars—he remembers telling her which ones he preferred.
The first bite reminds him exactly how hungry he is. The second reminds him that the last meal he ate was this morning. The third reminds him of just how much his padawan cares, for all the effort she’s gone through to be here beside him now.
Anakin looks back at her again—there’s nowhere else to look. Now she’s flipping the hilts of her lightsabers, throwing them up and spinning them and catching them in one hand.
“Don’t drop those,” Anakin says softly. He crumples the wrapper of his ration bar, molds it into a little ball using the Force.
Your lightsaber is your life. When did they become so frivolous with such valuable things? Playing with life and death, gambling with fate. Fighting battles as if they are games, deflecting blaster shots as if they are younglings parrying harmless charges from remote droids.
Ahsoka keeps flipping her lightsabers.
Anakin lifts a hand, stopping them in midair, and guides them back down to hook onto her belt.
She looks up at him. She smiles.
He looks down at her. He smiles.
Ahsoka shivers. Anakin realises the blanket is big enough for two.
Ahsoka shifts closer, until she’s close enough to rest her head on his arm. Anakin pulls her closer, holding out the blanket for her to tuck herself under, and wraps his arm around her shoulders.
They sit together, until dawn rolls around and the sun peeks out from behind the morning’s clouds, and the roof doesn’t feel so cold anymore.
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kitkat1003 · 3 years ago
Text
Who Are You Really?
Chapter 4: Rush Hour
Summary:
Huh.  Guess Spirit doesn’t have too much time to introspect.  That’s okay, though.  Introspection doesn’t lead to anything good, and Spirit much prefers action over thought when they start to think too far back.
They dig into their pocket, pulling out the proper token.
Ft. Almond, who belongs to @strange-lace
Spirit Masterpost
Spirit is nervous.
Macaque’s token is buzzing.  
They don’t know if they should be.  They’re nervous for clients, of course, and they’re polite to everyone they meet, but Macaque is...different.  They’ve known him longer, longer than most of their clients.
They’ve done so many favors for him, he can’t hurt them.  They know that.  They know they know that.
They still tremble a little as they reach into their pocket.
Are the favors not enough?  They have to be.  Spirit has been operating on them for as long as they can remember, likely longer than that.  Favors are dependable, favors make sense, they can tally them down and be assured, and know, and can quantify, and
And yet.
Macaque is like Red, but different.  Close, but not a friend.  Something else.  And Spirit shouldn’t be afraid.  They’ve done him favors, they’re safe.  They’ve done everything he asked, even when it wasn’t good.  Because they aren’t stupid, and they know what is and isn’t right.  They haven’t been right for a long time maybe ever, but they just want to be safe, and this is how they will be.
They know that.  This is how it has to be.
Because if it isn’t, then Spirit would have, and wouldn’t have, and
Spirit doesn’t like to think on the would haves, because they turn into should haves.  They should have this, they should have that—none of that is helpful.  Wanting more from the past doesn’t change the present.
Besides, they should have what they deserve, and
Spirit grabs the token and goes to where they are needed.
They’re not quite sure where they are, at first, but the cliffside they appear at is just a few miles from the town.  They can see the weather tower from where they are.  It’s the tallest building in the city, after all.
Macaque’s seeming lack of appearance would be worrying, but Spirit feels the itch that always happens in their eye, the big one, when Macaque is hiding in the dark.
“You test that a lot,” they say.  “I haven’t missed you yet.”
They turn around just as Macaque steps out of their shadow.  It’s kind of interesting, watching the flat object liquify into what seems like smoke, pulling from the rockface upon which Spirit’s shadow is cast.  From shadow to smoke to flesh and bone, the transition seamless.
“I’m your teacher, aren’t I?  Who else is going to test you?” He stretches his arms leaning back against the cliff face with his arms crossed over his chest.
Spirit supposes that makes sense.  Macaque is their teacher, in the sense that he’s really the only person who has bothered to teach Spirit anything, save for their mom.  But Mom isn’t a teacher, she’s Mom, so Macaque is their teacher.  It makes sense when you think about it.
“So,”  Macaque starts, a claw lazily tugging at Spirit’s sleeve to get their attention.  “Got any new information?  As a favor,” he adds the last part like he always does, and Spirit perks up like they always do.
A new favor is always so nice.
“Oh, well, the Demon Bull King was released,” they start.  “Red Son, Princess Iron Fan, and the Demon Bull King have congregated on the outskirts of WĂĄn QiĂŁn ChĂ©ng, where Monkey King’s successor lives, and they battle him from time to time—”
“Monkey King has a successor?” Macaque all but shouts, loud enough that Spirit takes a step back.
They fidget, and hide their hands behind their back.
“Um, yes?” Spirit shrugs at Macaque’s incredulous look.  “He stopped the Demon Bull King when DBK first emerged, and has been protecting the city and, uh, the world since then.  He’s a little younger than me, age wise I think.
“I haven’t gotten a good look at him, but he’s friends with the youngest member of the Long family, so he might be aristocratic?  I don’t know,” They finish lamely, smiling a little.
Macaque grins.  It’s not a nice one, one of his scheming grins he gets when he wants something and is figuring out how to get it.  Spirit finds it familiar, considering Macaque always wants something from them, in one way or another.  Why he feels the need to scheme is beyond them, because Spirit does most anything if asked politely.
Then again, they were a bit obstinate when Macaque and them first met.  They made Macaque work for their favor, which is stupid.  They should’ve listened better back then, and Macaque would maybe like them more now.  
Most people don’t like them, though, so they suppose they should be used to it.
“Well then,” Macaque starts, rubbing his chin with his hand in thought.  “That is something.  Thanks kid.  I’ll use that.”
Spirit brightens at the praise.
“You’re welcome!” they beam.  “Um, anything else, sir?”
Macaque waves a hand.  “Nah.”
He turns towards the horizon, and then, for some reason, looks back almost...shy?  Spirit doesn’t really understand Macaque’s moods.  He can flip flop in terms of good or bad feelings very quickly, with no rhyme nor reason Spirit can discern in regards to why.
They jump, scrambling to catch an item as Macaque just...tosses them a bag of what they soon realize is coins.  A fair bit, if the weight is any indication.  The bag is purple, with a silver drawstring for the pouch.  They love purple and silver!  Macaque doesn’t do silver, save for the token he made for them; his cuffs are gold.
They glance up at him in confusion.
“Got tired of carrying that,” Macaque says, looking away from them.  “Figured you wouldn’t mind.  Buy yourself something with it, or whatever.”
He glances back at them again.  Spirit waves.
Macaque jumps off the cliff, and disappears.
Spirit heads back to town, after that, flitting through different shopping centers.  They don’t really have a lot of money regularly, but they also don’t spend a lot of money regularly, so they’re typically okay with spending money when they want or need to.  
The last thing that was a big purchase was getting their outfit fixed up for the third time.  They always wait until the fabric is so worn that they can’t stitch it together to do so, because they try to be frugal, but keeping their one and only outfit in fair condition is a necessity.
Macaque had mentioned the practice, saying that it was how he kept his outfit pristine after centuries.  Demons who could weave silk would restring the fabric line by line until it was simply the same but brand new, keeping the old string to be salvaged for whatever they could find within.  It wasn’t terribly expensive, but was still a purchase to be saved up for.
They don’t shift into human form, staying in the alleyways where they’re hardly seen and glancing out to the streets to see if there’s anything neat to find instead of walking in the open as a human.  Their eyes catch on a shop in the food district, a colorful storefront.
Bitter Sweets.
They can see the colorful creations set up in the window display.  Sweets, pastries.
Pastries.
They remember pastries.  It was such a rare thing to have.  Father was always in the Inn, always toward the front side they’d have to cross to get to the indoor kitchen.  They never wanted to cross Father.  They knew what would happen.
But it became a game.  Find whenever Father is gone, fixing up a room for a new customer, off to the town to find tourists, and sneak into the kitchen.  Throw together the ingredients, skipping across the floor to find each and every item needed for the recipe.  Mixing the ingredients into dough, kneading it and playing with it as Mother laughed, shaping it into its proper form, placing it in the stone oven and watching, waiting.
And then the dough would rise, and Spirit would lean in so close to watch that Mom would gently tug them back with a soft smile.  She would pull out the finished product, and Spirit would tug on her sleeve and say ‘Now?’, and she would smile and shake her head and make them wait until it cooled.
They would pull apart the warm (but not hot!) balls of sticky bread just to see the inside and finally stuff a piece into their mouth, giggling.  They’d take the lot and scamper off into safety with Mom, off into the back area where the infirmary was, where father couldn’t reach, the taste of sweetness on their tongue.
Spirit remembers pastries.
Entranced, they cross the street and enter the shop.
The inside is just as warm and bright as the outside, purples and pinks in pastel hues the general color scheme, with cool gray walls and white highlights to accent the colors. There’s a second display case by the front counter, a small table with two chairs off to the side, and a sweet smell of something baking that hits you both with nostalgia and hunger.
Spirit thinks about the last time they’ve eaten, and can’t quite remember.  Then again, that’s not too terrible, considering they don’t need to eat regularly.
“Hello, dear!” A voice calls from further inside.  
Spirit jumps at the sound, and stares as brown hair, purple skin, and red eyes greet them.  The demon is of the spider variety, a cap on her head and smudges of flour and icing on her apron and face.  
She has 3 eyes, just like them.  But they’re not supposed to have three eyes, so it’s different.  She’s allowed to like hers.
She wipes off her hands on her apron and steps up to the counter, a pleasant smile greeting them with her hands on her hips, ready to be of service. “What can I get for you today?”
Spirit stares for a moment.
Right.  They have to order something.
“I-uh-um,” They stammer, because they didn't have time to prepare for this, and just a glance at the display case proves that they don’t know what any of the pastries are, nor do they know what the names mean.
And what did they even expect?  That this random sweets shop would have the exact type of pastry they remembered making centuries ago with someone who has been gone so long it shouldn’t matter?  Those things are lost to time, lost to a world they left behind when there was nothing left but blood and memories.  The soft moments are held only by the crumbs left in their head; there’s nothing tangible here.  They’re so stupid.  So, so, so stupid.
“I can always help you pick something out, if you need help,” the shopkeep says, gentle as Spirit’s anxiety mounts.
No, they can’t ask for help, they’re not allowed to.  They can’t do this, they should just run, run and never come back because this is stupid, what are they even looking for-
“Mooncakes!” they nearly shout, clapping a hand over their mouth a moment later, face bright red as they look away.
Their tail curls around their leg tight enough to hurt.  The shopkeeper's eyes glance down at their leg, for a moment.
Spirit tries again, softer, and fidgets with their belt. “Um, if you, uh, if you have any mooncakes. I would...like those.”
They bite the inside of their cheek hard, just short of drawing blood.
Mooncakes are the only pastry they know by name.  The only pastry that Father allowed and wanted them to make, special for New Years.  That was when they could be in the kitchen for hours, baking batch after batch for customers in the Inn and to hand out to those in the infirmary.
Father never let them make anything outside of what people wanted, what could bring them in money.  He was always so worried about costs, irate by a single lost yuan.  They were only to do what could be profitable.  Providing mooncakes to the tourists brought them business.  That’s all he cared about.
Mom’s hospital business always made far more than the Inn ever did.  It’s a point of pride they carry, that their Mother’s sunny disposition, kind nature, and astute healing practices made her far more of a matriarch than their Father liked.  No one likes staying at an Inn with an owner who has such a cruel gaze, where the owner’s wife and child are too afraid to show their faces.
No one likes staying at an Inn where the owner doesn’t even have a face, but, well, Spirit wouldn’t know anything about that.  Why would they?  They’ve had claws for a long, long time, claws that are strong enough to rip and tear, but that has nothing to do with this.  Nothing happened.  
It’s none of your business.  Stop asking.
The shopkeep smiles.
“Ah, Mooncakes,” she says.  “It’s been a few months since the New Years celebration, but people are still coming around looking for them.  I make a batch every other day just in case.  Lucky for you, today’s the fresh batch!”
She turns away to the back, and Spirit lets out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Miss.”
“Call me Almond,” Almond calls from the back.
Spirit smiles.  “Thank you, Miss Almond.”
They only ask for a few, maybe three, but after they pay and leave they find nearly ten in the bag they’ve been given.  They idly chew on one, and almost stop in the street as the rush of nostalgia is accompanied by the taste of an expertly baked mooncake.
Watching the fireworks with Mom, bright lights up in the sky, sharing a mooncake with someone who cared, being carried home, half asleep under the stars and wanting to be nowhere else but where they were then, because the only place that was home was her arms because they were warm and safe and now they’re
.
They blink back a couple tears and continue to chew.
They walk around aimlessly for a while, and eventually climb up a random building to sit on its ledge, letting the wind brush through their fur as they chew on their second mooncake.  
They wonder if Red would share one with them, if they asked.  They never stayed around long enough to share one with him on New Years.  They almost pull out their cell phone and text him, but
well.
Red hasn’t been close for a long time.  A rift was made because Spirit failed him, and they’ve always been a coward, too afraid to reach across the gap where something safe and special used to be.
They put their phone away.
A token buzzes in their pocket.
Huh.  Guess Spirit doesn’t have too much time to introspect.  That’s okay, though.  Introspection doesn’t lead to anything good, and Spirit much prefers action over thought when they start to think too far back.
They dig into their pocket, pulling out the proper token.
Oh.  It’s Spider Queen!  
Spirit hasn’t heard from her in a long while, but they’re always happy to help, so they let the token whisk them to where they need to be.
They can hear the rush of cars overhead when they appear in what they assume is the sewers.  Eerie green pods of something litter the walls and ground, and there’s a fair smattering of purple grey spider webs that lighten the dark stones.
“Spirit!”
They turn, and see the Spider Queen just a foot or so away, bathed in green light from a crater shaped pool that has a green, bubbling liquid boiling within.  She’s grinning wide at them, and Spirit will say that, for a demon lost for half a millennium (that’s most demons, to be fair.  They all disappeared when the Demon Bull King did.  After all, if Monkey King could do that to someone, what would he do to them, the weaker ones?), she looks just as much of a threat as she did the last time they saw her.
They bow.
“Hello, Miss Queen,” they greet, and, after glancing back at the bag gripped tightly in their hand, they say “Would you like a mooncake?”
Spider Queen stares, for a moment, and then laughs. “Ha!  My, aren’t you sweet?” 
The sound of Spider Queen’s mechanical spider legs sends a shiver down Spirit’s spine, but Spirit has never minded spiders all that much.  As long as bugs stay away from them, in the sense that they don’t crawl onto them, Spirit leaves them be.  Spider Queen is more than just a bug, they suppose, and therein lies the danger.
They stand up, reach into their bag, and pull out a mooncake.
“This is just the thing I needed!” Spider Queen plucks the mooncake from Spirit’s hand.  “You would not believe the day I just had!”
She takes a bite and Mmms at the taste while Spirit fidgets silently.
“You know, I had my favorite meal taken from me, but this might be the next best thing.”
Spider Queen is a lot like Macaque, in the sense that they both talk a lot and Spirit never knows what to say in reply.  There’s a lot of bragging, grandiose statements and plotting, and then eventually an expectation of a response.  Spirit is never good at responses, though.
Then again, Spider Queen likes to hear herself talk a little more than she cares for a response.  She’s easier to handle, in that sense.  Macaque is harder.
“Would you mind giving me a buff, sweetheart?  As a favor.  I’ve got a bigger task for you, and it requires a bigger explanation.  Why waste the time, right?” Spider Queen holds out one of her mechanical spider legs.
“Right,” Spirit replies with a small smile.  “Of course.”
Lucky that they keep the polish for this sort of stuff on hand.  They pull it out with a rag and start to polish the metal, working out old scratches and making them disappear until the surface glitters like new.
“This town has become a hotbed of activity since ol’ Demon Bull King jumped out from the netherworld,” She starts, talking as Spirit works.  “I thought I’d sneak in and see what the fuss was about, maybe grab a meal or two.  It has been ages since the Spider Queen has ruled, and now that we’re allowed to play, I’m planning on rebuilding my empire!  The monkey boy came in and stole my meal, but he left behind a little piece of himself that I can use.”
She chuckles darkly at that notion.
“Monkey Boy?” Spirit inquires, moving onto the second leg.
“Ugh,” Spider Queen growls under her breath.  “Monkey King’s newest pet project.  He comes tearing in, stealing my perfectly good dinner, that little—” She cuts herself off.  
Spirit hands her another mooncake. She makes a motion with it in the air, huffing indignantly before continuing.  “His hair is enough to give my venom the kick it needs, but I don’t have the minions I used to.  I need tech.”
Spirit starts on the fourth leg.  The position they have to be to buff is uncomfortable, a strain on their back, but to complain would be stupid, so they deal with the pain.
“That’s where you come in, dear,” Spider Queen turns to them.
Spirit glances up.
“You’re good at getting information, and you probably understand this modern stuff better than I do.” She waves a hand, almost dismissive.  “I need someone to build me some spider robots to transport the venom.   You don’t need to worry about the transport, I’ve got Huntsman for that, but they don’t know what to look for.”
Spirit worked on finishing the fourth leg while they respond. “Of course, Miss Queen.  Does it matter if they’re a demon or not?” They like to know specifics.
“Pfft—no self respecting demon knows anything about these new fangled devices!  We thrive off of power and magic, not tech like phones!  Those are things humans use as a crutch,” Spider Queen rolls her eyes, huffing.
“...Right,” Spirit replies, pointedly not getting offended on Red’s behalf.
It’s okay.  She doesn’t know she’s being rude. Spirit stands up, having finished with buffing Spider Queen’s armory.
“I’ll get on it right away, Miss Queen.  Anything else?”  Spirit finds that being polite does wonders, and Spider Queen likes it when she’s called a Queen.
“Nope!  I’m gonna relax.  Good luck!” Spider Queen’s legs sound with metal clicks as she leaves, waving as she does so.
Spirit waits until they’re sure Spider Queen is far enough away for them to relax.  They turn, walking toward where they can hear open rushing water.  The sewers are essentially a river, and all rivers lead to the sea eventually.  Macaque taught them that.
It takes them around an hour to walk to the end of the sewers, climbing out of the pipe and sitting atop it.  
They’re just a few hundred yards away from the city’s docks.  They dangle their feet over the edge of the pipe and watch the rushing sewer water drain out into the sea.
They pull out their phone.
Red Son would likely know how to work robotics, but they’re supposed to find a human.  Plus, they don’t want to involve Red in this sort of stuff.  They can probably ask Mei.  She doesn’t know about their favor business, so she won’t be any the wiser, and she won’t feel guilty!  It’s the perfect plan.
‘Mei.
Hello!  It’s Spirit.  I was wondering about the technology of the city.  It is very advanced.  How was it constructed?  Who keeps it running?
Let me know if you know!
Spirit’
That should be inconspicuous enough to get Mei to start discussing things.  They don’t like dancing around subjects, but they don’t think this is the sort of thing they can just tell Mei about.  Mei is the type to have more of a moral backbone than Spirit does.  Spirit has their rules, of course, their lines in the sand, but they do most anything regardless of consequence.  What is good, what is bad; they don’t have the power to deliberate on that sort of thing.
If they were powerful enough that no one could hurt them, they would choose good, of course.  They don’t enjoy most of the work they do, they don’t find satisfaction in it besides the comfort of knowing that they’re a little safer, but it’s necessary.  They don’t have the luxury of knowing powerful people to protect them.  They don’t have anyone who would.
So they protect themself, somehow.  It works.
They pocket their phone, and head back towards the city.
They take a detour to the forest, because being in the sewers did nothing to keep them clean.  There’s a stream a few miles out of town that’s perfect for washing in, though, so that’s where they end up, carefully scrubbing the scent out of their clothes and fur and sunbathing on a rock.  They sprawl across it, back curved as their head hangs off one end and their feet and tail the other.  They have to bend their legs a bit, because the rock isn’t tall enough to keep every part of them off of the ground, but it’s mostly comfortable.
Just for a few hours, they let themself rest, polishing off the last few mooncakes as their fur and outfit dry.
They end up falling asleep and wake up as stars dot the sky.  The more they stare, the more their vision becomes unfocused, so that the lights triple in number.  It’s fun, sometimes, to have lopsided eyes.  It creates an interesting view.
They stretch, grabbing their now dry clothes and putting them on.  They’ll take a leisurely walk back to the city, maybe pick up breakfast.  Maybe.  They already ate something this week, and it’s not like they need much.  Why waste the money if it’s for something unnecessary.
Then again, Comes a voice that sounds a little bit like Macaque, a little bit like Father, and mostly like a part of themself they prefer to ignore; Were the mooncakes necessary?
Spirit doesn’t have an answer to that.
An hour’s walk gives them plenty of time to introspect, but Spirit prefers to avoid that.  Their mind is a winding road paved back centuries, but while it started with lovingly placed bricks somewhere along the way the materials were left shattered.  Glass and broken stone leaves feet bloody and pained, and you can’t go around, only through.  So Spirit chooses neither, and leaves the rest of the road to be forgotten.
The road they’re on now, the present, is made with a mosaic of materials they managed to cobble together, after everything broke.  It’s bumpy, there are cracks in the pavement, and you have to be careful.  Spirit is always careful, though; they’ve had the practice.
The issue with being so, so careful is that leaving behind the earliest stretches of road means they remember little of their childhood.  Spirit would never say it aloud, but they don’t remember their mother’s face.  To find that picture would mean flipping through the bloody pages of their photo album, and Spirit is, at the end of it all, a coward.
That’s enough thought for now.  We have to move things along.
Spirit thinks they can have a leisurely morning, but yet another token buzzes in their pocket, much to their chagrin.  Spirit wouldn’t say it, but sometimes it’s exhausting to be at everyone’s beck and call.  They signed up for it, however, they’ve no room to complain.
Reaching into their pocket, they pull out Yin and Jin’s token.  They frown, if only because Yin and Jin call them the most frequently and, often, the favors they’re called for are mundane and silly.  
Though, compared to the harder, less moral favors, they find these preferable.
They consider letting the token ring.  They’ve done that before.  Yin and Jin have so many favors put down that they get a little cavalier with how they interact with the pair.  The two used Spirit a lot before they knew how the system worked and realized using them as a crutch was a bad idea.
Apparently owing Spirit something is a bad thing.  Spirit can’t imagine why.
They sigh.  As much as Yin and Jin are long-time clients, that’s no excuse for being late or lazy.  They take a deep breath, and let the token whisk them away.
They arrive within the city, at the front step of a hideout.  Spirit recognizes the alley once they swivel their head around.  It’s a fair few miles in the middle of the city, where a lot of nooks and crannies lie between the bustling streets.  Perfect for hiding.  It’s not too far from the main road that it would be invisible, though Spirit isn’t sure if that’s because Yin and Jin want to be near the main road or if they just didn’t think about it.  With their general intelligence, it’s 50/50.
They step inside, posture straight.  All business.
“Hello,” they greet.
Inside is a rather sparse dwelling.  There’s what appears to be an unused kitchen off to the right of the main room.  Said room is a large expanse, and a dirty one at that.  At the back of it is a board, covered in pins and string, tying threads together in myriad ways that Spirit can’t quite decipher.  They see Mei up there.  A picture of Pigsy.  The rest are unrecognizable.
“Hey!” Yin calls.  
Spirit’s gaze drops down to them.  They’ve been taller than the two for centuries.
“Got a favor for ya,” Jin continues.
“I assumed,” Spirit replies.  “What do you need me to do?
Red eyes squint with twin sharp-toothed grins, and they pull out a large book.
“Well you see,” Yin starts.
“We wanna go after the Monkie Kid, yeah?” Jin continues.
“So we made a plan,” Yin finishes.
They open the book, straight to the middle, and on the page are...two steps illustrated.  Pretty self explanatory, in the sense that Spirit can tell that they want to use some sort of artifact to trap the Monkey King’s successor.
“So, we figured, Calabash,” Jin points to the first picture.  “We capture him in it, keep ‘im in there, right?”
“Right,” Yin agrees.
They look to Spirit.
“Right?” Spirit says.
They both nod.
“The thing is,” Jin moves on, which Spirit appreciates because they don’t know where this conversation is going, “The calabash is uh, in a museum.”
“It’s old,” Yin supplies.
“You want me to retrieve it for you?” Spirit parses out.
Yin and Jin smile again, all teeth.  It used to be intimidating, but, well, Spirit is older, and smarter.
Spirit is scared of everyone, but there’s a certain safety that comes with knowing that when push comes to shove, they just need to kill one to incapacitate the other.  They’ve seen the two when one is absent without cause.  They can use that, if needed.  Not that they would, but they could.  That makes them safe.
“Now you got it,” Jin crosses his arms over his chest.  
“Sound good?” Yin asks.
“Do I have a time limit?” Spirit likes to know the conditions.
They’re already working on one favor, and if they have to worry about the time limit of another favor, then they have to balance things.  Not that they do much else when not working on favors, but still.  They like to be a little organized.
“We’re gonna order from the restaurant the kid works at in a week or two,” Yin explains.
Spirit nods.  That gives them time.  They have a phone now, too, and Mei taught them how to search stuff on it, so they can look up the museum once they’re out.
“Okay,” They respond.  “Anything else?”
Yin and Jin glance at each other.  They have this way of communicating without words, and Spirit finds it kind of cool.  There’s a twitch of an eyebrow on one face, a small mouth movement on the other.  Their expressions don’t really change, just shift a little.
“Nah, we’re good,” Yin waves them off.
Spirit nods and vanishes without a farewell.
All in all, they don’t dislike Yin and Jin.  Sure, the two are loud and rambunctious, but so is Red, and Spirit could never dislike Red.  In a way, they’re almost jealous of the pair.  They have each other.  They have someone who will never leave, who could never leave.  Inseparable, two against the world.
One is the loneliest number, and maybe Spirit is just a little jealous to know a Yin who isn’t always alone. 
As they head off, scaling the wall and choosing to traverse the city over rooftops, they get a text.  It’s from Mei, a response to their earlier query.  Spirit stops, tail swishing back and forth as they perch on the edge of a roof, toes curled over the edge to grip it as they squat, leaning down to read the text.
‘hey spirit!
the city is the sum of hundreds of years of advancement, with tens of hundreds of programmers and hardware engineers building it up! ive been looking up a lot of them as inspo for my work in tech. 
i like this one programmer, syntax.  hes a mystery, theres only one public picture of him, but hes responsible for most of the tech in the city!  he was the leading programmer for the weather tower and has a bunch of patents he makes money off.  total recluse lol no one knows where he could even live near!  ive always wanted to meet him.  lemme send you some articles!!!!!’
Interspersed between the sentences are a deluge of emojis.  A lot of green hearts, a couple dragons, some rain clouds when mentioning the weather tower.  Beneath the text are a few articles.  Spirit squints.  They think they press their finger on those.
Sure enough, pressing their finger on the article pulls it up in a...they think Mei called it a web browser?  They should ask her next time they’re called over.
Or...well, Mei doesn’t know it, but they’re doing Spirit a favor, giving them this information, and if there’s anything Spirit fears, it’s being in someone’s debt.  She doesn’t know, but she could find out, and if she did, she could use them, she could hurt them—
Well, Mei doesn’t seem the type, but one never knows.
‘Mei.
Thanks.  I’ll read them soon.  Hey, do you want to meet someplace? I know your mother was not thrilled at my offer to teach you swordfighting, but I am still willing to.  As long as we meet away from your house.  I wouldn’t want to get in trouble.
Let me know!
Spirit.’
That should even things out.  A good lesson or two, maybe more.  Spirit would prefer to do more than less when repaying a debt, just to be sure.
They start to peruse the different articles.  The only public image they have of this programmer is striking.  He’s got eccentric hair and a small mustache.  He frowns at the camera, clearly displeased with having his picture taken, a pristine lab coat on and a pair of bright green glasses adorning his face.  There’s a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place as the picture is taken.
The only known thing that he does is go to a specific coffee shop.  Evidently, anytime he goes, the cameras in the area including phones stop working, thus contributing to the lack of photos.  People like to chat about him, simply because of the mystery of it.
They get a text back from Mei.
‘sounds great!  i know a place.  text u the deets later! <3’
Spirit smiles.
They decide to stake out the coffee shop this Syntax goes to.  It’s toward the outskirts of the city, small, with a reputation for using specially designed and grown beans that no one else can replicate.  Supposedly.  It keeps a low profile, as well as a very high end coffee shop can, but most people are priced out of it anyway.  From what Spirit read from reviews, a lot of people would get this coffee as a treat, something to save up for as a present on a weekend.  It’s a large place, and people often go to sit and relax for a while with their drink.
Syntax, evidently, goes there up to five times a week, to the point that his drink is memorized by everyone who works there.  He pays in cash, to avoid any trace that he was there, and then disappears.  People say he avoids being followed.
People, though.  Mortals.  They can’t see souls the way Spirit can.
They catch him on day two of their stakeout, and they sit, waiting, as he orders.  Cash is exchanged, and he walks away.  No one tries to follow him, but Spirit must, so they will.
They blink, and the world bursts into different colors.  Souls of all different shades, constantly interacting with one another.  Syntax’s soul is a neon green, with lavender lines within that resemble code.  The soul takes on the whole of the person, after all.  People more powerful can have souls that show it.  Spirit likes that.  They like knowing that they can always check if people are lying.
They follow, and soon realize why Syntax is so hard to follow.  Every turn and twist he sends out a...well, he can’t make clones, but they’re digital recreations of himself that continue walking in a different direction than the real Syntax is.  They’re near perfect, able to fool anyone who just saw them as is, but they don’t have souls.  
So Spirit follows the soul.
It’s a good hour walk, not that Syntax walks all the way.  Once he’s out of the main city area, he hops into a hover car that seems like a personal project (if the paint job is anything to say about it) and blasts off.  Spirit follows the trail, far enough behind that they can’t see Syntax but close enough that they can catch his colors in their eye.
It’s a good twenty minutes before they reach Syntax’s house.  It looks like a fortress, a large mansion gated and hidden.  Spirit takes a picture, grabs Spider Queen’s token, and disappears.
They were just told to locate him, after all.  They prefer that.  As much as Spirit is good at their job, they don’t like the thought of having to kidnap anyone, because the person would likely scream, or cry, or beg, and Spirit would have to see that.  
It’s easier if they don’t see it.  They already know it isn’t right, they don’t need the painful reminder.
Spider Queen’s lair is as dark and damp as they remember, with the added addition of an expansion of the green pool of bubbling liquid.  It has spread to little pods scattered about the place, glowing ominously with newfound energy.
“Miss Queen?” They call.  
Green eyes blink from the dark, and Spirit stays very still as she comes into view.
“Back so soon?” Spider Queen leans back on her mech, grinning like...what was the phrase Spirit had heard.  Like a cat who had caught the canary?  That’s it.
Spirit doesn’t know why it has to be a canary.  Cats eat plenty of birds.  And mice!  Odd.
“I have what you want,” Spirit replies, keeping it short and to the point.  “He’s an engineer and a programmer, and a recluse, so people probably won’t notice if he goes missing.  I have a picture of his house, and I can take you to it if you want, bu_t”
“That won’t be necessary,” Spider Queen waves a hand.  She clears her throat with intention, and Spirit tilts their head to the side as another figure comes out from the shadows.
“My Queen,” Huntsman’s voice is as gravelly as ever, and he bows a little in greeting.
Spirit gives him a small wave.  He rolls his eyes at them.  
Fair enough.
“I need you to hunt down this human.  He’s important to my debut as Queen of the world!  Spirit here has the details.”
Spider Queen gestures to them, and Spirit jumps a little as the weight of seemingly eyes all fall upon them.
“O-oh!” They fumble to pull out their phone.  “I have-uh-I have a photo of his house, so you can use that, and, uh—”
They look down, and Huntsman is suddenly very, very close to them.  They take a wary step back.  
He sniffs them.
“Were you just there?” He asks.
Spirit slowly nods, holding out their phone so Huntsman can see the picture of Syntax’s house.  He glances down at it, and then after scanning it over, nods decisively.
“I’ll have him here by tomorrow,” he promises.
“He-uh-!” Spirit raises a hand, pressing their fingers to their mouth in apprehension.  “His house looks very high tech.  There’ll uh-there’ll probably be, um, defenses.”
They haven’t talked to Huntsman or Goliath much, in the centuries they’ve been around to help Spider Queen with different things, but Huntsman gave them a knife once.  Said it was because they looked pathetic without a way to defend themself.  They didn’t want to tell him that they already had a weapon, so they kept the knife.  He got them one with a purple grip, even!  It was a nice gesture, and Spirit would like Huntsman to stay alive.
Not that they ever really want anyone dead, but they know it’s often an eventuality, and saving every person, wanting to keep every person they know around is hard, and will only lead to pain.  They know from experience.  Besides, they’re pretty sure no one would do anything to keep them alive.  If a tool breaks you can always get a new one, so Spirit is expendable, and expendable means that you can’t be expected to be kept safe.  They know from experience.  But they like certain hands that wield them over others, so they’d like those ones to remain, at least.
Huntsman grins, at that.
“I love it when they fights back,” he almost purrs before skittering off.
Spirit watches him leave, head tilted to the side.  They suppose it makes sense that he likes hunting, considering his name is Huntsman.  They wonder if his name was because of his type or his profession.  Or maybe his type dictated his profession?  Then again, there isn’t such a spider type as queen, so that’s a little silly to think about.
“Thank you, dear,” Spider Queen says, jerking Spirit out of their thoughts.
Spirit bows.  “Of course, Miss Queen.”
When they stand up, there’s a bag of money—smaller than the one Macaque gave them, but hefty nonetheless—being offered to them.
“You’re too skinny,” Spider Queen says. “I can’t have a servant of mine looking half starved!  Do something about it.”
Spirit blinks.  They didn’t think they were too skinny.  Sure, they could feel their ribs easily, but that's nice, because whenever they break their ribs they can figure out which one super fast.  It’s useful.  They don’t want to disappoint Spider Queen, though, and while she didn’t say it was a favor she is giving Spirit money, so they might as well get something to eat as a job well done gift.
They ignore how that thought makes their stomach squirm.  How they feel about the jobs they are given does not matter.  It never has.
“Of course,” They repeat, taking the bag.  With another bow, they leave.
Thankfully, this trip hasn’t ruined their clothes, so they don’t need to wash them.  They leave through a manhole cover in an alley, and when they peek their head out to see where they are, Bitter Sweets stares them down from across the street.
Well, at least they know they’ll like something from the shop, right?
The bell above the door rings in their ears long after the sound leaves the room, and Almond comes in with a smile that is slowly becoming familiar.  It’s almost motherly, but Spirit wouldn’t say that, because if they did they’d have to run.  Run before the motherly figure burns to dust, disappears for the sole reason of being motherly to them, of all people. 
So for now, they say it is kind, and warm, and comforting.
“Spirit!” she grins up at them.
Spirit smiles hesitantly back.
“More mooncakes?” Almond prompts.
“Yes,” They nod, toes curling in excitement.
Nostalgia hurts a little, but it’s nice, too.  “And—” they start, because Almond is kind, and open, and soft and Spirit can be brave a little. “Maybe, um, you could recommend some stuff?  I-uh,” They rub the back of their neck sheepishly.  “I don’t know the names of most of this.”
They gesture to the display case lamely.
Almond’s smile somehow gets softer, and her eyes light up with excitement.  Spirit’s tail swishes back and forth with a calm joy from making someone happy.
“Of course,” Almond replies.
Getting the Calabash is, unsurprisingly, boring.  Stealing an item is much easier than tracking a person.  One quick search and they find it in a museum, nestled near the center of the city.  Sneaking in is easy, because while they are tall, they’re quiet, flexible, and smart.  That, and the people here are very lax in security.  Being so used to peacetime makes people complacent.  In a way, Spirit is relieved that they have known conflict most of their life.  It keeps them sharp.
They don’t know what to do in peacetime.  There’s always something to do, a job to accomplish.  A fight to help with.  What else can they do?
The only thing that gives them pause is the existence of two Calabashes.  One, older and far larger, is stated as the original.  Evidently, using a mix of demon magic and more modern technology, a new one was made, one that aimed to capture rather than kill.  
Yin and Jin never specified which one they wanted.  If Spirit was to guess, they know the pair would want the original.  The one that melts whoever is trapped within.  The one that kills.
Spirit doesn’t kill children.  And they don’t know the Monkey King’s successor, but he’s a child.  Younger than they are.
Are they a child?  Were they ever?
So they hedge their bets on the idea that Yin and Jin won’t notice the difference, and pick the newer, kinder one.
The pair does not notice.  They’re a bit scatterbrained like that.  Or maybe they don’t care.
Once the Calabash is secured and delivered, Spirit sits atop a random building, chewing on leftover pastries from their last visit to Almond’s bakery.  The sunset is looking awfully nice, but Spirit thinks that the charm is lost once you lose someone to watch them with, so they pull out their phone.
In the news section, there is a small article about Syntax abandoning his favorite coffee shop.  The article supposes that he picked another spot to get his caffeinated beverages.  There are thousands of comments speculating, wondering where he could have gone.
Spirit knows the truth.  The weight of that, the guilt, sits at the bottom of their stomach like a stone.
But there’s a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand stones sitting there, and they’ve been dragging Spirit down for a long time.  One more isn’t going to change much, isn’t going to drag them deeper down than they already are.  They’ve been drowning for centuries.  Drowning, mouth clenched shut, holding in their final breath, as if the moment they let it go they’d finally succumb to the suffocation pressing against them on all sides.  
When they were younger, they’d claw to the surface, take a breath or two, before another stone weighed them lower.  The sunlight doesn’t reach them, with how deep they are now.  Nothing does, because Spirit is alone.  That’s what happens when you hurt everyone around you, isn’t it?
One of these days, they were going to let go.  One of these days, they’d open their mouth, and finally they would be able to scream.
Sometimes all Spirit wants to do is let go, scream, and drown. 
They look at the sunset.  It’s looking awfully nice, don’t you think?
23 notes · View notes
maladaptive---daydreamer · 4 years ago
Text
Black ribbon and silver bows
The fifth of may meant that there were exactly 2 months until Draco turned 17. Draco had gone above and beyond for your birthday, spoiling you with 17 individually wrapped gifts that he sent you on a wild goose chase around the school to find. You wanted to make him equally as special as he made you feel, but what did you get the boy who could get anything he wanted?
You thought about getting him a pet, but you didn’t think his mother would appreciate a cat roaming around the halls of the Malfoy Manor. Then you thought about getting him a broom, but as usual, Draco already had the best of the best. Your mind turned to clothes, but the man only wore black shirts with tailor-made trousers. 
“Still thinking about what to get Draco?” Blaise’s voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts.
“Ugh yes, anything I think of, he already has”
“You’re fault for choosing rich, should have dated a Weasley, they’d be over the moon with an unworn robe” 
You smacked Blaise’s arm “Don’t be so rude, Blaise. Just because you don’t like them doesn't mean you can be a prick”
“Why don’t you make him something? I’m sure the elves would let you sneak into the kitchen to cook, you could draw something, write him a poem”
If you were a cat, your ears would have pricked at hearing the word ‘draw’, Draco was never a fan of the decorations in his room, maybe you could paint him a painting that he could hang up on his wall.
“You might have just saved Draco’s birthday”
The increase of chatter across the library hinted that your free period was over and it was now time for lunch. You and Blaise collected your things and returned the books to the returns trolley before making your way to the great hall. You bumped into Draco, Pansy and Daphne on your way there. The five of you made your way to the Slytherin table to see Crabbe and Goyle already tucking in. 
“Why am I not surprised that you two gluttons are the first on the table?” Blaise asked, throwing his school bag down and taking a seat. 
The rest of your group sat down as well, the elves had made different variations of chicken wraps for lunch today. You picked up a grilled chicken wrap and began eating it, famished after your hour of revision during your free period. You had just finished the first one when Draco said your name.
“You’ve got sauce on your mouth, darling”
You stuck your tongue out trying to lick it off but you kept missing. 
“Hold still a sec” Draco instructed. He used his thumb to wipe the spot of sauce from your mouth, licking it off his thumb once he was done. 
“Ah my saviour!” you fake swooned. 
He laughed and continued to eat his lunch. You wolfed another half of a wrap before feeling full. 
“Are we still revising for charms after dinner?” Daphne asked, looking up from her homework. 
“I’m on it, but the boys have quidditch practise until 7, so they’ll have to join in later” You replied, snapping the lid of your lip balm back on
“Actually, practice is cancelled, so Blaise and I’ll be there” Draco added, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice.
“Y/N, you alright?” 
Your head whipped around to see Neville Longbottom standing behind you.
“Are you lo-” Draco began to sneer
You pinched the outside of his thigh making him grit his teeth instead of finishing his sentence. “Neville, hi”
“I just wanted to return your charms notes, they were dead useful, thanks,” He said with a light blush, holding your pile of notes out.
“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you found them helpful” You took the notes from him with a smile. 
“Have a nice rest of the afternoon,”
“You too Neville,”
He returned to his friends and your friends turned onto you.
“Why are you so nice to him?” Blaise demanded.
“Oh merlin, when are you guys going to get over this rivalry, he needed help, so I helped him.”
“He’s also Longbottom”
You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, does anyone want to let me copy the last two questions for the dada homework?”
Daphne slid her roll of parchment over to you and you quickly scribbled the answers. Just as you had screwed on the cap for your ink lid, the bell for your next lesson rang. Nowadays your lessons were less structured, it was two months before exam season which meant the teachers pushed to revise topics rather than introducing new ones. Some teachers preferred to let you get on in groups doing your own thing, others had a strict revision lesson planned. But one thing was for certain exams had definitely taken over your life.
After your charms revision session with your friends, you and Draco found yourselves walking up to the astronomy tower. The sun was beginning to set as you nestled yourself into his lap.
“Don’t you think it’s mad that in a couple of years we won’t be able to do this anymore?” You asked, tightening his arms around you.
“We can watch the sunset from anywhere love”
“Ha ha you know what I mean idiot”
“I’m ready to leave this place”
“Sorry Mr ‘I should have been in Durmstrang’”
“I should have, my father agreed more with their curriculum”
“Maybe cause his old death eater buddy was running it”
“He’s your father's old death eater buddy too”
“My father never thought about sending me to Durmstrang”
“That’s because it’s a boys-only school, love”
“I don’t like you”
“That’s because you love me,”
“Speaking of love, do you remember the first moment you realised you loved me?”
He paused “As a matter of fact I do”
“Do tell, Mr Malfoy”
“We were at that party at the Parkinson’s in our 3rd year. You had a silver dress on. Your mum forced you into these heels and you hated them. You wobbled over to me and clung to my arm the whole night. But as soon as we were shooed away from the adults, you took them off and practically shoved them into my hands and started walking around barefoot. Pansy’s grandmother came out of the parlour and saw you without your shoes on and went berserk, she called you a disgrace, all our mothers came out to see what was going on and I’m pretty sure your mum looked like she was going to kill you”
“I remember that! Then I transfigured her ostrich feather boa into a snake around her neck!”
“She nearly pissed her pants” He laughed, causing you to smile.
“So is that your favourite memory of us?”
“No, my favourite memory takes place in our 4th year at the Yule ball. I didn’t want to dance in front of all those idiots but you pulled me up there anyway. But as soon as you held my hand it was like they all disappeared and it was just me and you. I spun you out and when you spun back into my arms, I dipped you and you looked so beautiful. But that is fighting for the top spot from the time you sucked me off in the restricted section, and the time you floo’ed into my room last summer at 2 am and I absolutely ruined you”
“Okay okay I get the picture your favourite memories are when we have sex”
“Not all of them, just some, what’s yours?”
“5th year, Christmas break, your parents’ Christmas party, you hid my promise ring inside my dessert” you held your hand up letting your ring sparkle in the candlelight, it was simple, a small princess cut emerald on a gold band, but it was oh so precious “You kept staring at me and I was so confused, I wasn’t even looking at what I was eating until you jerked my hand back and told me to look in the spoon and there it was. You cleaned it off and slid it on my finger right in front of everyone. Or maybe it was the time you made me sit on your face when we snuck into a room at the leaky cauldron”
Draco laughed and lifted your hand up and played with the ring. “After we finish Hogwarts, I’m gonna replace this ring with a diamond one”
“You are?” 
“Why do you sound so surprised, I told you already I was going to change your last name to mine, even your parents know”
“I know but I didn’t know you wanted to do this so early"
“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”
“You are so whipped”
Draco shoved you off him playfully.
“But it’s okay because I’m equally as whipped” you replied sitting back in his lap.
“You’d better be, otherwise I’d-”
“You’d what? Tell your father?”
“Right, that’s it” His fingers found your sides as he began tickling you. By the time he felt as though he tortured you enough, you were both breathless. 
“I love you," He said, smoothing your shirt down.
“I love you more”
“Who’s up here?” Filch’s voice grumbled. 
You and Draco grinned at each other as you quickly threw your robes on and lifted the hoods, running straight past Filch and into the Slytherin common room. 
You had now learnt what Draco’s favourite memory of you was. All that was left was actually getting around to paint it. If you weren’t in a lesson, you were revising, usually most of the time with Draco. Even on weekends, you found yourself in in the library completing practise exam papers and testing yourself on flashcards. And any time you weren’t working, you and Draco used as an opportunity to spend time with one another without being bogged down with work. You’d already decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to start painting, but the issue was figuring out how you’d be able to sneak there and back without arousing suspicion. 
After much deliberation, you decided that your best option for sneaking out was on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Every Tuesday after dinner, Draco and Blaise would go out to the quidditch pitch to blow off some steam, by the time he had finished and showered, you were almost always already in bed. On Wednesday, you decided you’d tell Draco a little white lie and say that Flitwick had asked you to tutor a struggling 5th year in Charms, it would give you a few hours to yourself to get ahead with painting. 
The upcoming Tuesday your plan was in action, you made Daphne swear she wouldn’t tell Draco where you were and you made your way to the room of requirement. It was honestly a Godsend. You stepped into a room full of different sized canvasses, there were tubes of oil paint and palettes of watercolours and squeezy bottles of acrylic. A table was full of paintbrushes of different sizes and shapes and there were an easel and chair right in the middle of the room. 
You picked out a large rectangular canvas and placed it landscape on the easel and got to sketching the outline of your painting. If all went to plan, it would be a loop of Draco’s favourite memory of the two of you at the ball, if it didn’t well, then it would be a still image and if everything went south, you’d have to somehow find a way to get some lingerie to distract him from your lack of presents. 
Painting the canvas was going to be the hard part, sketching the outline, however, was proving to be a huge nightmare already, you had drawn and redrawn Draco’s face about a hundred times, not being able to get it exactly right. You were about to kick a hole in your canvas when a small a5 picture caught your eye, stuck under the foot of the easel. You picked it up to see a photograph of the exact moment you were trying to recreate. This was why you loved this room, taking a deep breath, you redrew Draco’s face finally getting it as you liked it. By the time you had finished the full outline, it was almost two am, you knew you were going to struggle to wake up in the morning, but that was something for future you to deal with, present you had to find a way to sneak out of the room and back to your dormitory without detection. 
In order to make as little noise as possible, you took your shoes off and ran across the castle in just your socks, you were only a few steps away from the entrance to the common room before Mrs Norris came around the corner. She meowed loudly as you whisper-shouted the password, the corridor revealing itself. You ran down it and straight up the stairs into your dormitory. You tried to get into bed as quietly as possible before falling asleep. 
In hindsight, staying up sketching until 2 am was a horrible idea. It was only 1 in the afternoon and you were struggling to stay awake. 
“I don’t get why you don’t just pay someone to paint it for you,” Daphne asked, scrunching a piece of paper into a ball and throwing it in the bin beside you.
“Because then there's no sentimental value behind it” You replied, massaging your temples.
“What time did you fall asleep anyway?”
“By the time I drowned out Pansy’s snoring it was 3, I was just lucky I had a free period first so I ended up getting an hours extra sleep”
“Merlin, remind me to never fall in love”
You laughed before rubbing your eyes and returning to your work. 
It took you four weeks of staying up till 2 am to finish Draco’s painting. You had spent hours mixing the right shades of paint, at one point you ended up getting rid of the paint on the whole canvas and starting again but exactly three weeks before Draco’s birthday, you had mastered the spell to make your painted figures move and your masterpiece was complete. Your only worry was that Narcissa Malfoy would hate it and would stop her son from hanging it in his bedroom. 
In order to get the huge canvas from the room of requirement back to your dormitory, you had to ask Neville to ask Harry if you could borrow his invisibility cloak. If Draco had found out that you got Harry’s help you were 90% sure he’d be the one kicking a hole in your canvas. For now, the canvas was safely tucked under your bed. 
The next morning, you stuffed Harry’s cloak in your bag and made your way down to meet him. You had agreed the previous evening that you’d meet outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom before breakfast to make the exchange. As planned, he was stood with Neville right outside the entrance to the toilet. You pulled the cloak out and handed it back to Harry. 
“Thank you, I know you and Draco don’t like each other, but it means a lot that you'd go out on a limb to help me.”
“While I question your choice in men, Y/L/N, you’ve helped Neville out on more than one occasion and any friend of Neville’s is a friend of mine.”
You smiled at Harry, “I’m gonna head to breakfast before Draco gets suspicious, see you boys, later”
They waved goodbye as you made your way back to breakfast, stopping in the normal girl's toilet to sort your shirt out which you found you were wearing inside out. Your group of friends were already sat down eating, all but Draco.
“Where is he?” You asked.
“Couple third years said they had to tell him something in private, oh wait, speak of the devil” 
You turned and he did not look happy. His jaw was clenched and he was walking oddly fast, he came to you and gripped you firmly by the arm. “Can I speak to you, outside, Y/N”
You looked at him confused but followed him out. As soon as you were out of earshot from the hall he turned around to face you, he looked pissed, he kept walking forward until you were pinned between him and the wall. 
“You want to tell me why some friends in 3rd year saw you giving Potter his invisibility cloak back?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, darling, we both know you’re not. ‘it looked like she was holding something but there wasn't anything in her hand’. Why did you have his cloak”
“I was planning on recreating that memory of yours in the restricted section for your birthday, I asked Neville if I could borrow Harry’s cloak to get us there and back but then I remembered you wouldn’t have come if we were using his cloak so I gave it back” You lied smoothly 
He swallowed and nodded, not moving back. You pushed him off and scoffed. 
“Is this what you’re doing now? Sending third years to follow me?”
“You of all people should know I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Those eyes and ears shouldn't be snooping on your girlfriend”
“They wouldn’t have to if you weren’t lying to me about where you were for the past month.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Helping a 5th year with Charms as per the request of Flitwick? Well not according to the professor himself”
“Dra-”
He laughed, “Can’t even cover up your lies properly. Why don't I give you a few hours to come up with a cover story, I can’t bear the sight of you right now” Draco turned and walked away, ignoring you as you called out for him. 
He acted as though you didn’t exist for all of your lessons, he didn't sit next to you, he didn't speak to you, he barely looked at you. You chose to have dinner alone in your room that night. It had occurred to you during your second period that Draco thought you were cheating on him with Harry. It made sense, you were sneaking around and you were seen giving Harry’s cloak back as if to say that you two had been meeting up in secret under it. But it also made absolutely no sense either, you and Draco had been together since the beginning of your 3rd year. Your father was a death eater for Pete’s sake, it didn’t take a genius to realise you’d be disowned if you brought home Harry fucking Potter. 
You were partway through your transfiguration homework when Daphne came bounding up into the dormitory.
“Right, what is going on with you and Draco?” She asked, throwing her bag on the floor and collapsing on her bed.
“Nothing,” You lied.
“See that is absolute bullshit because he has been a moody prick all day and you skipped dinner, so come out with it, spill”
You sighed and explained everything. 
“Why don’t you just tell him the truth then?”
“Because if I do, it’ll ruin the surprise”
“And if you don’t it’ll end your relationship, my mother is over the moon at the fact that I’ll be a bridesmaid at a Malfoy wedding, you don’t want to crush her dreams do you?”
“You’re right, do you know where he is?”
“He went straight into his dormitory”
You nodded and made your way there. He was joined by his friends.
“Rest of you out, thanks,” You said, walking in and standing in the middle of the room. 
Blaise looked at Draco and he nodded, prompting him, Theodore and Goyle to leave. He refused to look at you. You took a seat at the end of his bed and began to explain.
“I’m well aware you think I’m cheating on you with Potter, but that’s really the complete opposite of what’s happening. The truth is, for the past few weeks, I’ve been arranging your birthday present. I finished it last night and I asked for Harry’s cloak so I could bring it back to my dormitory without revealing the surprise. That’s where I’ve been sneaking off to. Not to go snog Potter under his invisibility cloak”
“Oh”
“Bet you feel really fucking stupid now don’t you,” You scoffed
“I’m sorry, darling,”
“Do you not think? Could you imagine my parents’ reaction if I brought home Potter? They’d disown me faster than you came the first time we-”
He grabbed you into a hug before you could finish your sentence.
“I am truly sorry, princess, for jumping to conclusions and for ruining my surprise.”
“Well, you haven’t totally ruined it, you don’t know what it is yet.”
“Can we come back in yet, I need to get out of this fucking uniform” Theodore shouted from the bottom of the stairs.
Draco shouted back a yeah and his friends returned. 
“See you two’ve kissed and made up, about time too, Draco’s a right git when he's moody”
Draco threw a pair of balled-up socks at Blaise’s head before you got up off the bed.
“I’ll meet you in the common room once I’ve finished my homework,” You told him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He mumbled an okay before kissing you once more and you were on your way. 
The next morning, at breakfast, you noticed your father’s owl descend onto the table in front of you. You took the letter expecting him to fly off and return home but he waited expectantly, clearly, he was told to wait until you replied. He hopped up onto your arms as you took him to the owlery to recuperate while you read your letter and replied. 
Y/N, 
You’re hopefully aware that it is Draco’s birthday in a few weeks, I hope that you have got him an adequate gift. You know how important your 17th birthday is and as I remember, Draco spoilt you with 17 gifts. Since you are a young lady, you're not expected to gift him anything as lavish as some of the presents he gave you, but tradition dictates that you should get him something worthy of a pureblood wizard, in particular jewels. Please reply as soon as possible, only so I know that you won’t embarrass your father and I (and in the case you do, I can send you an alternative). Your brothers and your father send their regards. We miss you. 
Mother
You rolled your eyes at her need for keeping up appearances and quickly scribbled her back a reply. You wished you were at home to see her reaction to you gifting him a painting you painted yourself. Once your father’s owl had filled himself up with water and owl feed, you attached the letter to him and sent him on his way. 
Later in the evening, your mother’s owl pecked at you through the library window. You went out into the corridor and took a letter and a box off of her. Once you had freed her of her cargo, she hooted and flew off. You opened the second letter and read.
Sweetheart, I know that you are an accomplished young artist, but a painting will simply not do, especially for his 17th birthday. However, since I am your mother and I know you best, I had a feeling I would need to help you in this department. I took the liberty of going into Bourgin and Burke’s on the weekend and purchased a rare black diamond ring for Draco on your behalf. I think he will like it and I think you will too. I hope you are studying well for your exams, 
Mother
You tried to rip open the wrapping on the box but it wouldn't move. The fold at the bottom lifted itself up a bit and ran across your finger, giving you a papercut. A thin line of blood collected on its edge and the wrapping dissolved leaving you with a red ring box, she was always partial to a bit of blood magic. You lifted the lid to see a thick silver band, it looked like it was either white gold or platinum, your mother thought sterling silver was too cheap, the oval cut diamond set atop a larger oval of platinum. It wasn't too plain but it also wasn’t overly gaudy, just as Draco liked it. You returned to the library with your second gift, making a note to hide it under your bed with your painting.
The next few weeks went past in a blur of mock exams and constant revision. Your first exam wasn’t until the 10th of June, giving you plenty of time to celebrate Draco’s birthday properly. The night before his birthday, half of Slytherin house was gathered in the common room waiting for it to hit midnight. You asked the elves to bake a cake for him and smuggled it with some snacks to have a small party with your friends. 
At 11.59 you pulled a tie out from behind you and held it up.
“Gonna let me tie you up huh?” Draco asked with a smirk. 
“Nice try, Malfoy, but this is for you” You replied getting up and tying it around his eyes. 
“What are you doing, Y/L/N?” 
You pointed your wand at the wall causing birthday banners and streamers to hang. Blaise brought the cake in from the 1st year dormitory. The large grandfather clock donged deeply as it hit midnight, you pulled his blindfold down as the whole common room burst into a rendition of happy birthday. He laughed and put his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. Nott finished the song on a horrible high note as Draco blew his candles out. 
“Make a wish, Draco” Pansy shouted. 
“I don’t need to, I've got everything I could wish for right next to me.”
You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss before addressing the crowd. “Eat my friends,” You felt like Dumbledore as plates of food dotted themselves around the common room. The attention moved from Draco to the food as everyone got up and attacked. 
“Happy birthday, my love,” You said wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Thank you, princess, I wasn’t expecting this at all.”
“Only the best for my boyfriend”
You spent the next few hours playing truth or dare with your housemates, it was cut short when Snape barged into the common room, the decorations were ripped off the wall and the music from the radio stopped. 
“I am going to give you until the count of 10 to return to your dormitory, anyone I still see standing here will be spending every weekend for the rest of the year cleaning with filch”
He began to count down from 10 as everyone scrambled to run into their dorms and get into bed. 
You were so excited to surprise Draco with his presents that you skipped breakfast, instructing Daphne to tell him to meet you in the astronomy tower. You decided you were going to decorate your spot a little bit, you set up a soft blanket and some cupcakes and hung up the leftover banners and streamers from your midnight party in the common room. You had his gifts wrapped up with ribbon and some bows just to be extra, they sat in the centre of your blanket, the canvas taking up a large chunk of it. You had realised Draco would probably struggle to take the canvas back home, but that would be a problem he would have to deal with later.
 “Y/N?” His voice called out from the bottom of the stairs. 
“Up here, love” You replied, your head popping up over the bannister. 
He broke into a smile when he saw you and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. You sat on the edge of the blanket and waited for him.
“Happy 17th birthday, Draco” You exclaimed as he reached the top. 
His smile got even wider as he pulled you up and into a tight hug. 
“I am so in love with you, do you know that?” he mumbled into your neck.
“I hope you feel the same after you see your presents,”
“Darling, you know you didn’t have to get me anything, you’re the best gift I could have ever received”
“I didn’t have to but I wanted to, here look” 
His eyes fell onto the two wrapped gifts, he sat himself down and opened the top present. 
“How did you get your hands on this?” he pulled the ring out and examined it closely.
“RIght so backstory to this, my mum didn’t believe that my original present was traditional enough to be a ‘wizard’s 17th birthday present’ so she went out to Bourgin and Burke and got this, but I wouldn’t have given it to you had I thought you wouldn't like it, so think of this as a gift from your in-laws.”
“My father’ll be jealous, he's been wanting a black diamond in his collection for ages now” He put the ring back in the box and was about to shut it.
“Wait, let me put it on. you put my ring on, so I’ll put yours on, practise for the big day”
He smiled at you as you sat down next to him and pulled the ring back out of the box. He held his left hand out for you and you slid the ring onto his ring finger.  
“You know after this, they tend to kiss” He grinned. 
“Oh yes, of course, if we’re going to practise we should be thorough” You pulled his head down and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss. 
He pulled back after a few moments with a grin. 
“We should keep practising, just to be on the safe side”
“Enough flirting, Malfoy you have another gift to open”
He turned and picked up the canvas in his hands.
“Is this the one you were sneaking away for?”
You nodded and he began to tear off the wrapping. He got up and placed it against the wall and stood there looking at it, silently. He was silent for a while as he watched the loop of Draco spinning you out and then dipping you on your return with a kiss. Although he hadn't said anything, you got the feeling that he didn't particularly like this gift. He was probably thinking of a way to let you down easily.
“Do you not like it?” You asked quietly.
“What? No!” he turned around with a genuine smile. “I love it, darling, it's perfect. Honestly, it's beautiful.”
You physically relaxed and went to stand next to him. “You said you didn’t like the painting in your room above the fire so I thought I’d give you something to change it with, I’m just not sure if your mother would like it, since its not one of those classical masterpieces.”
“I don’t care what my mother thinks, as soon as I get home, I’m hanging this right up on my wall. I just never knew you could paint like this”
“My mum made me start painting when I was three, I stopped lessons as soon as I started Hogwarts but I kept it up on the side as a hobby and, well, I thought I’d immortalise your favourite memory of us.”
“You never cease to amaze me” He turned and pulled you into him “Thank you,”
“Don’t be silly it’s your birthday, stupid”
“Not just for this, for everything. For putting up with everything, the jealousy, the anger, the-”
“Hey, I’m not putting up with anything, I love you, Draco, all of you”
“Merlin, I can’t wait to marry you” His lips crashed into yours for a frenzied kiss, overwhelmed with emotion. “This is by far the best birthday I’ve ever had, nothing will be able to top this”
And he wasn’t lying. Whenever he was asked, by his kids, his grandkids even his great-grandkids, what his favourite birthday celebration was, his response was always the same, his 17th birthday.
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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago
Text
chemical reaction
request from nonnie! “hiiiii! love ur writing sm ! could I request a fic with George maybe like an enemies to lovers kind of thing? or maybe like she’d hated him and he’d actually fancied her the entire time or something? thank you!!”
pairing: george x fem!reader (no specific house)
word count: 5.7k whoops sorry
A/N: i LOVED this request; i don’t think i'd ever really written an enemies to lovers fic before.. maybe once, so i adored this. wish this could be me and him rn tbh. also, had to put a hand through the hair in there ~shoutout to my gals~ anyway, please leave feedback, comments, reblog, share with your friends if you wish, thanks!
tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu | message me to be added, loves!
There was no denying the indisputable chemistry between you both. Everyone could see it. It was pretty difficult to miss, actually, especially when the two of you spent nearly every single lesson at one another’s throats.
“I’m warning you, Weasley -- stay as far away from me as you possibly can. I don’t want you and your misplaced priorities anywhere near me.”
“Wow, it is a pleasure to be insulted by you. Really.”
It all started in your third year. The very misguided and frivolous George Weasley and his brother, Fred, had decided to be prats in your Potions lesson. You’d never really had any interaction with them before that; you were their absolute and complete opposite. You’d preferred to spend most nights borrowing any and all books from the library and reading through them as quickly as you could, or spending your afternoons with the Dueling Club to further your studies with spells, charms, and incantations; whereas the two of them were always setting off fireworks in the Astronomy tower, or whatever the bloody hell two thirteen-year-old pranksters did.
Potions had been normal that day -- Snape had his usual displeased scowl painted on his face, and you were continually checking the clock and counting down the seconds until you could leave and speed off toward your History of Magic lesson. That is, until George had purposefully put the wrong ingredient into his cauldron, causing a spark, resulting in an explosion quite larger than they’d presumed and a ghastly horrible sight: one of your eyebrows burning off completely.
You’d been outraged; while the majority of the class had been too startled and shocked to let a laugh escape their lips, the twins had absolutely no issue erupting into a fit of obnoxious giggles, obviously incredibly pleased at their error. Snape had even cracked somewhat of a grin (if you could consider the edge of his lip slightly curling upward in a sort of mock expression a grin), but he still threw all three of you into detention. You! In detention! For getting your bloody eyebrow burnt off by a juvenile boy!
You and George hadn’t been the fondest of one another since.
In an attempt to separate yourself from him, you’d completely changed course -- McGonagall had been able to help you switch out some of your lessons for others. You didn't really want to take Divination, but if it meant being away from him for an hour and a half of your day, then so be it. You were going to have to be okay with your choices.
Until you heard the sardonic, cool wash of his voice from behind you.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
He sluggishly fell into the seat next to you; (of course, it being the only open spot left as he’d arrived precisely two minutes after the bell signaling the start of the lesson) he propped his feet up on the table in between you both. With your mouth still agape and brows threaded together, you angrily shoved his feet off of the table and slammed your spellbook down in place of them. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” you huffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be right now? Like setting fire to a third year’s eyebrows? Or detention, perhaps?”
He scoffed airily. “Oh, hilarious, darling -- really; right fantastic joker, you are. No, you see, contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend every waking hour cleaning out cauldrons, or --”
You cut him off, “Oh, and here I was thinking that you’d make a perfectly adequate cauldron cleaner if a full time opportunity were to present itself.”
He didn’t skip a beat. “-- or setting fire to third year’s eyebrows.”
“No?”
“No,” he replied throatily. And then, that all too familiar smirk of his. “Only to those who deserve it.”
You were about to snap back with some snarky retort, but thankfully Trelawney’s very soft-spoken voice floated through the room and managed to calm you down a bit. It didn’t stop you from sneering at George completely though, as he relaxed back into his chair and grinned to himself like an idiot.
You yanked your spellbook off of the table and turned to the desired page; you didn’t really fancy the idea of doing more research on crystal gazing, palmistry, ornithomancy, and tessomancy, but seeing as N.E.W.Ts were coming up, it only made sense that Professor Trelawney would make you revisit these desired areas of study.
“Gaze into the beyond!” she cried, “and tell your partner what you see!”
George very obviously rolled his eyes as you peered closely into the crystal ball. You couldn’t see anything except smoke, and so you furrowed your brows even more, as if to will yourself to concentrate. It was no use. You hated this subject; you’d only taken it to get away from him, anyway! He scoffed at the sight of you concentrating fiercely. “And what is it,” he asked you in an uncanny expression of your professor, “that you see?”
You shot him a glance and backed away from the crystal ball, scribbling something down on your parchment, and then turning your attention back toward him. “I see myself trying to lower my blood pressure and focus on my work,” you said cheerily, “because the idiot sat across from me is being an even bigger git than normal.”
“Wow,” he replied, his voice fierce with mock surprise. He widened his eyes and nodded his head fervently. “You’re really rubbish at this, aren’t you?”
His quips made your blood boil.
It felt as if it were hours before the lesson had ended; when the bell rang mercifully, you packed up your things in a rush and nearly sprinted out of the classroom, without a last glance or a word to George. This was going to be a long bloody year.
-- -
“So what’ve you been learning in Divination, Georgie?”
You groaned and placed your head directly on top of your parchment. Why is it that they always seem to end up where you are? This was the library, they had absolutely no business being here. This was your turf, and it always had been.
“Little of this, little of that,” George replied to his brother, his voice merry. “Been revisiting some old tasks to prep for N.E.W.Ts. Oh, that reminds me -- I was crystal gazing the other day.”
“Yeah?” Fred’s voice heightened. You could hear the smirk and the eyebrow raise. “And what did you see?”
“Well, it was kind of difficult to tell,” George said, “my huffy, stuffy partner kept distracting me with her bloody obnoxious sighs every single time I so much as blinked in her direction.”
You slammed shut the very large book you were reading as the twins and their friends erupted into laughter, swiveled your way through students, and returned the book to its proper place on the shelf. To your delight, Madam Pince was not too keen on noise in the library, and immediately began scolding them. This didn’t stop George from sending you a wink and a shake of the head before you vanished in the corridor. Merlin, he was going to drive you bloody mad.
-- -
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Had your friends gone absolutely bonkers? He fancies you. You couldn’t seem to shake the phrase from your head no matter how hard you tried -- it was that outrageous and that hilarious.
There was no way that George Weasley fancied you -- for one, the two of you could not be more different. Secondly, if he really did, and he was still busy treating you like he loathed you, then that could mean only one thing: that he had the personality of a five-year-old. Yes, like that of a five-year-old boy chasing and pushing and teasing a five-year-old girl on the playground at primary school. And then, you figured, he was just as immature as he seemed.
“Perhaps you could make it a less.. hostile environment,” your mate told you one afternoon over lunch. “Clear the air a bit.”
“There’s nothing to clear,” you told her gruffly, picking at your sandwich. “He’s a git -- always has been, always will be.”
She began to laugh. “But you don’t really know that, do you? I mean, yeah, sure, he was a right prat during third year, but you’ve bloody hated the guy since then for laughing. Laughing. It’s not like he did it on purpose, you know. It was a mistake.”
You turned toward her in surprise. “A mistake that caused my bloody eyebrow to burn off!”
“And look,” she replied cheerily, “it’s grown back!” You groaned; why was she doing this? Make it a less hostile environment. The only way that could happen is if you and George were miles, if not worlds, apart.
“Maybe try.. having a conversation, yeah? You may have something in common,” she continued on, noisily slurping the rest of her pumpkin juice. “I’m just saying; you don’t have to love the bloke, but you don’t have to hate him, either. Make this atrocious Divination lesson less dreadful for you both by just being civil.” She slung her bag across her shoulder and tapped you on the shoulder. “Have got Charms -- just think about it, okay? See you,”
Civil. You supposed, as you took a very deep sigh and finished off the rest of your drink, that you could attempt to do that. Just then, a very loud bit of raucous laughter echoed across the Great Hall, coming from none other than the Gryffindor table, where George and Fred were no doubt showcasing one of their products for their shop they were so confident they’d be able to open and run. The commotion from the table only seemed to increase, and you took yet another very deep, gruff sigh. Civil. You could try. But Merlin, you’d have to try really very bloody hard.
-- -
When George sat down across from you a few days later, you’d been back and forth between the idea of being courteous and being rude more times than you could count on two hands. And luckily for him, you’d just flopped back to the idea of politeness.
You stuck out a hand and he looked at you quizzically. “Merlin -- have the fumes in here gone to your head or something? We’ve known one another for years.”
Civility, you thought. You stood your ground. “Can we just.. I dunno, start over? This lesson is already terrible enough without us nearly killing one another. I, for one, don’t want to dread this any more than I already do. So what do you say?”
You couldn’t tell right away if the arch of his eyebrows meant he was genuinely considering this or if he was fighting back a very haughty laugh so as not to spark an argument. But then, surprisingly, incredibly, he took his hand in yours and shook it firmly. “Alright then, Y/N,” he said professionally, “I suppose I can do that. But no bashing my methods of study,”
“No burning off my eyebrows,” you retorted.
“No worries there,” he replied, sneaking a small smirk at you as he opened his spellbook, “nothing to blow up in here.”
For the first time in nearly four years, the two of you had made it throughout an entire lesson without yelling at one another. It was both surprising and refreshing. And although you both continued to make small digs at one another, and he certainly continued to test your patience, you realized that maybe your mate was right.
It turns out you did have some things in common, actually.
“Why the bloody hell haven’t you tried out for Quidditch then?”
George was still beaming over your story of how you’d miraculously caught a Snitch at the very young age of seven in your backyard with your siblings. You’re not exactly sure when Quidditch had come up in the conversation, but somehow it did, and the two of you were now packing up to head to your next lessons.
“I dunno,” you replied truthfully, “it was never really my thing. I much rather prefer dueling than playing Quidditch.”
“Word of advice,” he said, shoving his Divination spellbook back into his bag, “never tell your housemates that you’re a Quidditch wizard. They will kill you dead you for not going out for the team.”
Just then, Professor Trelawney came scurrying over to you both -- her eyes wide and hair a tousled mess. “Mr. Weasley!” she cried excitedly, pointing down at the crystal ball, “what have you seen today?”
He looked at the professor, the ball, and then at you, a simple smile on his lips, sort of a half-smirk half-genuine sort of look. “Friendship,” he said simply.
Dumbfounded, Professor Trelawney began nodding fervently to herself and mumbling things neither of you could understand -- utter nonsense, really, and moved onto the next pair of students before they could leave. You folded your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow. “Friendship, hm?”
George shrugged and placed his hands inside his pockets before starting toward the door. “And to think,” he said, “all you had to do was not loathe me so much.”
“It’s harder than it seems, George.”
“That’s mean,” he teased, bringing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. Then, genuinely, “we’re kind of best mates now, aren’t we?”
You choked back a laugh and held up a finger to him. “Erm, easy there -- wouldn’t go that far.”
He shook his head and began tuttering. “Dear, dear Y/N.. rubbish at both Divination and at lying.”
You threw a cushion from one of the chairs straight at his head before you both headed off in your respective directions. Best mates. Merlin. It was one lesson you’d both sort of gotten along in. He certainly was exaggerating a bit, wasn’t he? Even so, you couldn’t help the very small grin that spread itself across your face as you walked merrily toward Defense Against the Dark Arts.
--
You were having a particularly rough day.
You’d started the day off by waking up behind schedule, rushing through breakfast, and running in late to your morning lesson. You’d managed to completely bungle whatever nonsense Snape was having you concoct in Potions, losing a generous amount of points from your house. You’d slipped down the steps and given yourself a nasty bruise on your arm, and you were pretty sure that you were getting a cold -- and right before the winter holidays, at that.
So when you sluggishly made your way into Divination and George immediately began to tease you, you were not having it.
“Uh ohhhh,” he said in a sing-song sort of voice, “someone having a bad day?”
You knew he probably meant it as a joke and nothing more, but you were too pissed off to care. Was it the glassiness in your eyes? Your red nose? Your disheveled hair, or the fact that you’d hardly found the energy to straighten your tie? You growled, “I am not in the mood, George.”
“Blimey, alright, I was just --”
“I know what you were doing,” you scowled after a sneeze, “and I’d really just like to get through this lesson in one piece, if you don’t mind.” He put up his hands in surrender and sealed his lips shut. You sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling the greatest today -- d’you mind if we just focus on the work?”
Today you were focusing your studies on palmistry. Not your favorite. It was an incredibly long, mundane lesson.
Later on, George asked you, “D’you want me to ask Trelawney if we can finish up early since you’re feeling ill?”
“Please.”
You closed your eyes for the few seconds George was gone; when he returned, he sat back down in his seat with a rather confused look etched on his face. “She, erm, told me no can do. I’ll just have to really.. ‘cleans my aura’ after this.” He used air quotes and actually had to hold back a bit of laughter. “It’s fine, I reckon. I’ll read yours. You don’t have to do mine.”
You reached out across the table as far as you could; your entire body was hurting. You didn’t want to be sneezing and achey during the Christmas holidays! You were busy pouting when George took your hand in his and began examining closely. You found yourself feeling surprised by a few things -- one, the tender touch of his fingers grazing your palm; two, how soft his skin felt against yours; three, the way your breath had hitched in your throat at the mere contact.
The feeling of his pointer finger tracing over your life and head lines on your palm sent shivers down your spine; perhaps it was an oncoming fever? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t know if the fogginess clouding your brain was the head cold or Trelawney’s classroom or the sheer intensity of the moment between you and this redhead. Somehow, though, when George looked up and locked eyes with you, you had this strange feeling that he was feeling the same things you were. Pure shock. Pure surprise.
“So, erm,” you began, clearing your throat and stretching as far away from him as you could, “what’s it say then? What’s going to happen?”
George hummed appreciatively and looked back down at your hand once more before letting go. “Some type of.. chemical reaction. In our Potions lesson. Bubbling cauldrons, and all that.”
What? Were the fumes getting to him too? He never looked so serious in all his life! Maybe he needed a trip to the hospital wing to uncloud his own head --
“Sorry? George, what’re you on about? We don’t take Potions together.”
“Oh, you’re right,” he replied, shaking his head a bit and forcing down a smile. And then, much to your surprise (and delight, perhaps?) he said something you were pretty sure you dreamt up: “--reaction must be between us, then.”
If his knee hadn’t been touching yours under the table, or you hadn’t felt the stuffiness of your head cold take you over, you would’ve been sure that it had all been a dream, or perhaps the haziness of the classroom making you hallucinate. But no. He’d said it. He’d said it quite seriously, with his signature smirk and hand through the hair right afterward.
The bell rang, startling you, and he stood up slowly and slung his bag across his shoulder. You fumbled with your books, both exhausted from your oncoming illness and dumbfounded by his comment. “Mum swears by green tea,”
“Oh, erm, sorry?”
George laughed. “Green tea. My mum says it always helps during the colder months. Pretty sure they’ve got some in the kitchens.” He started toward the door, but waited for you. You both parted ways near the Great Hall. “Rest up, alright? Don’t need my partner missing out on the very exciting, albeit outdated art of palm reading.”
You laughed a bit. “I’ll be sure to, George.”
“And remember,” he pointed at you, “lots of green tea. A Molly Weasley recommendation.”
You couldn’t help the gentle smile that tugged at your lips. “Tell her thanks for me.”
-- -
Two days later and you were feeling as good as new. George had been right -- a few cups of green tea everyday, and it seemed to have cleared your sinuses right up. His mum was a right genius.
There were only two more days of classes before everyone was going to pack up and leave for the holidays. Although you’d be back after the new year, it still felt odd going home; you missed Hogwarts so desperately whilst being home. Something about the castle, illuminated by dazzling decorations and lights and ornaments -- it was rather stunning, actually, and always left you yearning for more.
You were busy scribbling down the very last bit of your Charms essay in the library when you heard your name. Oh no! How long had you been there, working away? You groaned and quickly wrote your name on the top of the parchment and bolted from the back of the library. Then you stopped in your tracks as goosebumps rose on your skin, and you listened:
“Do me a favour, Weasley, and just admit that your brother is mad for her.”
It was your mate. What was she doing, here in the library? Wasn’t she supposed to be in Herbology? You quickly skidded your way into one of the empty aisles, listening intently to the conversation unfolding just a few feet away from you in the aisle next to yours. And then came the unmistakable sound of Fred Weasley’s very dry sarcasm:
“Who? George? My twin? Mad for your friend? No, there’s no way.”
You could almost hear the smile that split his face. Your breath caught in your throat, and you struggled terribly to stifle a cough. What were they on about? There was no way, just absolutely no way that he really did fancy you. You thought your mates had been joking a few weeks back; you’d taken them up on their suggestion to be polite, but that was merely it. Friends? Maybe. A couple? Bloody hell, absolutely not.
“Could you be bloody serious for one moment?”
“I reckon I do not have a serious bone in my body, I’m afraid.”
Ignoring this, your friend continued. “How long?”
“Hmm,” Fred began. You imagined that he was probably looking toward the sky, as if searching for his thoughts so he could pull them directly out of thin air. “Well, let’s see. Pretty sure the day Y/N screamed bloody murder at him in Potions, he’d fallen very quickly in love, even though he never admitted it to anyone. I’ve known it, though, because the poor bloke wears his heart on his sleeve. So about four years, yeah.”
“And he just couldn’t quit the merciless teasing, could he?”
“It’s like you don’t know us at all.”
You couldn’t listen anymore. You quickly shuffled your way out of the library and all the way to your common room until you were safely in your dormitory and could yell into the void. Why on bloody earth would he have been acting so rude if he actually fancied you, even if he had been trying to keep his feelings a secret? But then his comment from the other day flooded your mind, and you soon found, as you mulled them over, that a lot of his comments toward you could be taken in a flirtatious manner if you hadn’t been so obsessed with hating him so much. Perhaps, looking back, he’d been basing his repartee off of your desire to make your distaste of him very well known.
What would have happened if you’d taken that misfortune in Potions in stride? Would you two have been alright? Acquaintances? Friends? Maybe even..
You felt a small jab in your stomach.
It’s as if the conversation you’d overheard had made you do a complete one eighty. Four months ago, the idea of spending any of your time with George Weasley nearly sent you into a tizzy. You absolutely abhorred the idea. The sight of him alone made your blood boil, and any and all interaction with him would have made you miserable to the point of constant sulking. But now?
It was sort of hard to get the guy out of your head.
You found yourself constantly replaying all of your interactions with him over the years back each night before bed. Of course, there hadn’t been too many, seeing as you’d done your absolute very best to avoid him at all costs. But the ones that had happened.. perhaps there was something other than disdain in his voice. Maybe you’d just chosen to hear it as disdain, because you didn’t want to admit to yourself what was actually true.
You didn’t know what happened between that time he’d first read your palm and what you’d overheard in the library, but something had changed.
Lots had changed.
His words echoed in your ears.
Maybe there was some type of chemical reaction going on.
-- -
When you walked into Divination the next morning, you weren’t very surprised to see George already sitting there. He’d started coming to lessons earlier and earlier, to the point where he was getting there before you. It was refreshing, actually. You’d always thought he didn’t really care about work; he’d proved you wrong, though, and you were glad.
You both fell into your routine quite easily, ignoring the very theatrical talks coming from Trelawney as she made her way around the room to observe each of you through her her very large spectacles. You felt a bit of a pull at your heart that this would be your very last lesson together before the holidays -- you relished and also sort of dreaded the idea of being very far away from this foggy mess of a classroom for a few weeks time.
“You’re awfully quiet today. Feeling better?”
George’s voice took you by surprise, because you’d both been working rather diligently on the finishing touches of your essays. You cleared your throat and stunned yourself at how softly your voice sounded in your own ears. “Yes, yeah of course. That tea worked wonders actually -- your mum’s a genius.”
George laughed softly but didn’t look up from his parchment. “Yeah, she’s a wonder, she is.”
“Has to be,” you replied, tracing over the letters of your name, “with seven kids and all. Has to be on top of things.”
“I reckon you’re right.” He finished whatever he was writing and looked up at you with a smile, and when you skittishly glanced back down toward your parchment, he asked, “are you sure you’re alright?”
“Mhmm,” you replied, biting down on your lip. Your feet were thumping rhythmically against the floor. And then the words were said before you could register just exactly what you were doing: “Heard something about you.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Whatever it is, I swear I didn’t do it.” Then he paused, thought for a moment, and opened his mouth to speak again. “Alright..maybe I’ve done it.”
A small chuckle settled in the air between you both when he finally looked up from his parchment and locked his gaze with yours. “Sorry. What did you hear?”
You considered making something up, for now you were panicking, and you hated feeling panicked: but then again, you were in pretty deep already, and what did you have to lose? “It was from your brother, actually. Fred.”
“Oh, Merlin.”
“Yeah, said something interesting,” you continued on, focusing your eyesight solely on the parchment in front of you. You resumed tracing the letters of your name over and over, just to give yourself an excuse to not look at him as your cheeks surely flooded pink. “Said you actually haven’t loathed me this entire time?” It came out as more of a question.
“Really?”
“Actually, if my memory serves me correctly..” you dragged out every single word, still unsure if you were going to go for it. And then you did. “I’m pretty sure he actually used the word.. fancy.”
You half expected George to throw up his arms in a fit, exclaiming that Fred didn’t know what the bloody hell he was on about, and of course he’d actually disliked you this entire time. You also half expected him to burst out and cackle himself silly, because the sheer idea of a guy like him fancying a girl like you just tickled him. But instead, he licked his lips and peered at you with a type of compassion in his eyes you’d never seen before. Then he wiggled his eyebrows and offered, “He’s smarter than I thought. And to think.. I’d never even told him how I truly felt.”
Okay, surely you’d dreamt that. But nope; nope, he’d said it, yet again, causing the butterflies to dance animatedly around your stomach. You opened your mouth to speak as he smiled softly at you, but then Trelawney came bouncing over, completely interrupting the moment. “Oh, my dears! Friendship was on your horizon, you say; now, look into the beyond and tell one another what lies ahead!”
She bounced quickly over to the next group, and you took to looking inside the crystal ball; but any type of focus you’d had before had flown out the window now -- there was no way you were going to be able to properly function, because as it turns out, your very worst enemy had actually liked you this entire bloody time.
George leant in closer so that he, too, was hovering over the crystal ball, your foreheads almost touching. You could feel his breath on your neck. His voice was low and cool, “What’s the future say now, love?”
“Friendship,” you somehow spit out, your throat and mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert. “Maybe more, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,”
And then the sound of glass shattering against the hardwood floor across the room startled you both, causing you to pull away from one another and catch your breath.
Moment over.
-- -
The Great Hall was bustling with students chatting animatedly and loads of luggage carts and parcels of presents. You’d just finished your final lesson before the holidays (Charms -- ending on a high note!) and you were very relieved to be on a break from your studies for a few weeks time and to be heading home.
The Great Hall was filled with people, but not the familiar one you were looking for.
Perhaps the conversation you were hoping to have could wait until after the holidays; although you didn’t know if you’d make it through three weeks of wondering what and if without spontaneously combusting.
You tugged your luggage out into the corridor to board one of the carriages to the train when you spotted him standing with his siblings, surrounded by luggage carts and huddled up in his Gryffindor robes and scarf.
Before you could find the courage to walk on over to him to wish him a happy Christmas, it seemed as though he was able to read your mind, for he excused himself from his siblings and made his way over to you, causing you to back up a few inches and press yourself directly into the wall.
You both hadn’t had a chance to chat since your lesson yesterday, since you’d found out the truth, since you’d ran out due to your nerves and George’s cheeky grin.
“So, erm -- sorry I ran out yesterday. Was a bit.. flustered, is all.”
You could’ve said anything else, but these were the words that chose to escape your lips. Bloody hell. You internally scolded yourself, but the expression George’s face didn’t change.
“Flustered?” he asked, confusion crinkling the edges of his eyes. “About what?”
“George, come on.”
“No, please,” he placed his hand on his chest, “You’re going to have to remind me. Yesterday’s events are all a blur, I’m afraid.”
He smirked, and you suddenly felt your blood begin to boil again. He was going to make you say it, of course he was.
“You know,” you started through gritted teeth, “our little conversation in Divination yesterday afternoon. About your... feelings.”
He nodded dramatically and clicked his tongue. “Right. That conversation. You know, it’s funny,” he began, placing his hands inside his pockets and moving closer to you, “I really dislike crystal gazing. I find the more accurate readings come from palmistry.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” he replied flatly, as if it were obvious. He took out his hand and placed in front of you. “Look here. I reckon you’ll be able to read the future quite clearly.”
You took his hand in yours, and immediately felt as thought you were out of your element. Yet, you began to trace the lines gently with your forefinger. You weren’t reading any bloody future; you were merely trying not to let the very steady pounding of your heart be so evident in the rising tension between you both. You found yourself, actually, pulling ever so gently on his hand, as if to bring him closer to you. You could easily reach out and trace the outline of freckles on his nose.
“See anything intriguing?” he breathed.
Something about being around him made you feel simultaneously more nervous than you ever had been and more confident; you were feeling so self-assured that you actually said something before you could overthink it. “Yeah, actually, looks here like you’re about to kiss me,” you said breathlessly.
How odd, you thought, that just mere months ago the man in front of you was none other than your absolute mortal enemy, and now all you wanted to do was spend the holidays locked away with him in a broom cupboard.
A cheeky grin split his face and he moved another inch or so closer; just centimeters to go, and his lips would be fully pressed to yours, the chemical reaction bubbling over perfectly. “Is that so?” he asked quietly, very slowly moving his way forward. He lifted your chin with his hand so your face was angled up toward his, and he stopped just as his lips so very softly brushed yours. It didn’t even seem real, honestly. Just then, one of the Weasleys shouted to George that their older brother was here to fetch them, and he you felt his smile brighten ever so lightly against you. Damnit! And instead of finishing what he’d started, he merely ran a finger across your chin, down your neck and over your collarbone and whispered, “Happy Christmas, love,” before pulling away.
What in the bloody fuc--! Was he kidding? Not only had the reaction bubbled over, but you now felt like exploding at how much of a prat he was being. He’d already made you say such silly things, and now he really had the audacity to almost kiss you and then pull away?
“You’ve got to be joking,” you said under your breath as he squeezed your hand. “You’re going to kill me.”
He wiggled his eyebrows seductively. “Have got to leave you wanting more, don’t I?”
You scoffed loudly and took a very deep, very overdue breath to regain your composure, but not before he leaned in and caught you off guard by pressing his lips to yours and gently melting into you. A slight sigh escaped you, and before you could register just what it felt like to have his lips on yours, you both broke apart -- he winked merrily at your wide eyes and made his way back toward his siblings. “You still going to be a right prat in three weeks time?” you teased, folding your arms across your chest as he tugged a beanie over his head.
“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind, love,” he said as if it were obvious, “you still going to let me read your palms and drive you mad?”
You grinned a bit more and shook your head, tugging your own scarf around your neck as he was pulled by his siblings out of the castle. You breathed deeply, brought your fingers to your lips where his had just been, and said to nobody in particular, “Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind, Weasley.”
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mediocre--writing · 4 years ago
Note
https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeknnubu/
I think I can send links but- I just saw this Pre K teacher tiktok & now all I can think of is a future AU where Steve takes like maybe a younger cousin or maybe a friends kid to school (or even his own kid??) and he walks in on fucking bad boy Billy Hargrove, still rocking his leather jacket and combat boots, seated on the carpet doing this with a bunch of Pre K kids as their teacher. Just this big mean badass dude sitting with a bunch of kids, being the best, most sweet teacher in the world
Bonus points for him having a battle jacket of some sort that he lets them add too and play with the dulled down spikes and studs on. And he has a class where the kids all make a patch one big patch for him to add to his jacket because he loves them so much
AND even more points if he just says his whole nice personality is “fake and for work only because it was the first job he got” but It’s actually real, and he really just likes being with the kids all day because their fun & they unconditionally love him, especially on his bad days where he’s sad & less motivated. I just crave soft emotional stuff 😔
steve, for as kind a fellow as he is, really should have thought twice about offering to take his nephew to pre-k every day.
jill, his older sister, had to be at work by 6 every morning during the week and had no means to take her son, patrick, to school every day.
and steve offered because what else was there to do? he worked two jobs that both started later in the day and jill offered to give him gas money to do it, so why not?
plus, patrick really was a sweetheart, he was just an energetic kid. steve preferred older kids. the younger ones tested his patience too much.
but imagine his surprise when he walks into the building, going to patrick’s classroom, turning into the doorway to see billy hargrove, same as he was when they were in high school, sitting on a colorful, patterned rug, animatedly talking to children.
“biwwy!” patrick yelled as he ran from steve’s side to his... teacher... and hugged him super tight.
“hey, patrick, my buddy!”
steve felt like this may be a dream. there is no way that billy hargrove, mullet and all, was patrick’s pre-k teacher.
billy looked to the door, where steve was still standing, and offered a smile. patrick looked to where billy was looking, excitedly telling him about how his super fun uncle was driving him to school now.
billy was engaging with the kids. he talked along with them and was able to balance all the kids at once. he looked happy, steve realized.
steve left a few moments later, making sure patrick was ok and staring at billy for a while longer.
it’s not until the day before winter break that billy and steve actually interact again.
the class is having a holiday party and parents are encouraged to come and bring food, drink, or just general supervision.
steve had made tons of cookies, enjoying his fattening hobby of baking, and they were all decorated with fun santa’s or snowflakes or christmas trees.
he was even told to make a few blank cookies and bring spare icing for kids to decorate during their party stations.
when steve got to the classroom closer to the afternoon, it was still nap time for the 15 kids in the class, all curled up on small cots and bundled in blankets.
when he came in, billy was sitting at a table near the door, organizing strings by color and had stacks of paper and boxes of markers organized the same way.
“hargrove,” steve greeted, “i made cookies, didn’t know if there were any allergies, so they’re pretty plain, no chocolate or anything. and i didn’t decorate a few, like you asked,”
“thanks,” billy didn’t look up to him, still hunched over the table detangling strings. “‘can set ‘em over there,” billy vaguely gestured.
steve went to set them on a table with a fun, winter themed cover over it.
he came back to sit by billy at the craft table because he didn’t know what else to do. plus, he didn’t want to wake any sleeping children.
“so, why are you a pre-k teacher?” steve asked.
“getting straight to the point, huh?”
“well, you look like that,” steve gestured to his embellished leather jacket, the mullet, the tight jeans (not as tight anymore, he did have to get up and down off the floor), and the hefty black boots that could probably crush a kid’s tiny fingers. “and i haven’t heard about you going through a brain reset or something, so what’s up?”
“it’s the only thing i could find,” billy grunted, not liking this conversation.
“don’t teachers have to go to college like everyone else? and have to have like a specific thing that says they’re qualified to be a teacher? seems like an awful lot of work for this to be the only thing you could find,”
“well, i can boss four year olds around all day, who wouldn’t like that job?” billy countered.
steve went to respond when there was a creak heard from behind him. one of the kids, a young girl with a wild head of hair, was walking over to billy with her blanket still wrapped over her shoulders.
“hey, jeanie, what’s wrong, doll?” billy asked, drawing his eyes away from the tangled string, which he didn’t do when talking to steve. he was giving the girl— jeanie— his full attention.
“i woke up,” jeanie said as she made her way closer to billy, “i got nightmares,”
billy’s face turned sympathetic as he put his arms out for jeanie, allowing her to crawl into his lap and rest her head on his chest while he wrapped her tight in his arms.
“wanna tell me what it was about?” billy asked, but only got a shake of her head in return, “that’s ok, you can sleep for another 10 minutes, doll. you’re safe,”
she was cuddled up in his arms, poking at the dull spikes on his shoulders and the silver buttons around the jacket. she looked utterly peaceful as she started to doze off again.
billy was so gentle with the little girl, adjusting her in his arms, making sure she was stable in his lap, before moving one arm back to the string, as if doing it one armed would be easier than before.
“i can do it,” steve offered in a hushed tone, “the string. i can untangle it for you,”
billy slid the string ball over to steve’s side of the table and let him take a crack at it while he started rubbing jeanie’s back.
steve had managed to get the string ball undone in the 10 minutes of nap time they had left. the boys didn’t talk through those 10 minutes, but steve would sneak glances over at billy often.
billy, for someone who tried to run a group of kids over once upon a time, was really great with younger kids. he was able to keep jeanie asleep, even when he moved an arm or straightened his back, something steve couldn’t do with patrick.
another parent showed up right when nap time was going to end, carrying bags of board games and such.
two more parents showed after the kids had woken up, and soon the party was in full swing. the kids were having a delightful time, half of them covered in glitter and icing, but nothing a good bath won’t fix.
billy was thriving in the chaos of four year olds, making sure they were following directions but still having fun, keeping the morale up and excitement high.
the parents seemed to love him, from what steve heard. one parent, wendy, even said that she didn’t like billy to begin with, thought he would be irresponsible and mean, but her kid loves him.
billy, for as much of a big guy as he was, didn’t seem to tower over kids menacingly when standing at full height. and it didn’t seem taunting when he would crouch down. he was on their level, in many ways.
once parents started taking kids home at the end of the day, billy, steve, and patrick were left to help clean up, though patrick was knocked out on the multicolored rug, he’d used up a lot of energy that afternoon.
“so, what do you want me to do?” steve asked, watching billy sweep the floors.
“you can leave if you want, i’ve got it. plus, pat seems to be knocked out, huh?”
“he’s already sleeping, and i feel really bad leaving you to clean everything.”
billy sighed, looking around at the disaster that was his room, “could you start wiping down tables? clorox and paper towels are in the far right cabinet, second shelf,”
they got to work and the whole classroom was clean within the hour. billy was throwing his bag over his shoulder and steve was carrying patrick in his arms as they walked out to their cars.
“do you mind opening my door?” steve asked after many attempts to get patrick adjusted in his arms to move and open the back door.
billy moved over to open the back door of steve’s car before walking back over to his car, the same car he’d been driving since high school.
i guess people really never change, steve thought.
once he got patrick settled into his car seat and got the car running to warm it up before he drove home, steve stood and talked to billy for a few minutes. just casual conversation, a thanks from billy for steve’s help.
“would you, maybe, wanna go get a drink or something some time?” steve asked, awkward as ever.
the rest was history, steve and billy would see each other for a date every weekend and they’d wave to the other in the mornings and afternoons.
they had a similar situation when the spring party came, steve bringing decorated and undecorated cookies for the kids and showing up during their nap time.
but steve had something in his bag that he wouldn’t let billy see.
through the party, steve would bring the mystery item to each kid, making extra sure that billy never saw it.
even at their date that weekend, billy couldn’t get it out of steve to find out what it was.
at the very end of the year, they have another party (and steve does not remember his pre-k days, but he doesn’t think they had this many parties).
billy has been weird the past week, finally realizing that he’s not gonna see these kids often, if at all, anymore. he’d grown very attached.
but, in true billy manner, he refused to let anyone know he was upset about a bunch of toddlers.
that’s where steve’s secret came in handy.
you see, on that day of the spring party, steve had gotten a piece of paper and has each kid sign it in a different color. he’d brought it to a small shop and they’d been able to transfer it onto a patch, one for billy’s jacket.
it was scaled down to be the size of an index card, but all the names were still legible.
when they’d given it to billy at the end of the day, before kids went home, billy almost cried.
he loved the kids so much and loved the connection and impact they have had on him without him knowing. he’s gonna miss rocking jeanie to sleep three times a week because she can never stay asleep alone.
he’s gonna miss the chaos that this group of children, specifically, brought. they made his day great, even if he was feeling especially shitty.
they helped him feel good about himself. kids don’t lie, that’s for sure, and billy created such a strong bond with them that all their thanks and love will be forever ingrained onto his heart.
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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago
Text
Non-binary lich x reader (nsfw)
Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.
This has been up on Patreon for a week now on early release. New stories for Tumblr go up on Wednesdays at the moment and are available there for a whole week before they hit Tumblr, so if you want to have access to the next one (it just went up), make sure you’re on the $5 tier. I’d love to have you as the newest member of the Patreon supporters!
Anyway, contents: It's 7688 words long, features a non-binary, skeletal lich, is set in a fantasy setting, and I don't think it comes with any warnings. Looking forward to your reaction!! 
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“So, you’re the new librarian
”
The softly rasping voice behind you startled the life out of you, and you dropped the three-volume stack onto the thick, oak table with an undignified squawk. The boom rang out through the castle library and one or two scholars shot glares at you over the top of their research. Turning, you found yourself face to face with a moving skeleton and your eyes widened even further.
Wearing a long, unadorned, shapeless, black robe with the hood pulled right up over the bare ivory of the skull, the figure had a glowing green light in their eye sockets and one of their teeth had been replaced at some point by a silver prosthetic. More than that, you couldn’t say, but it was apparent that their entire body was just a humanoid skeleton beneath the billowing robes.
And then the penny dropped. “Oh!” you gasped, straightening a little. “You’re
 You’re Avery
 the court mage
” How many liches could one royal castle have after all?
They dipped their head in a curt bow. “Indeed.”
“I’m sorry, I just
 wasn’t expecting
”
Another little bow. “It’s quite alright. I realise that meeting a someone like me for the first time can be somewhat
 unnerving.”
You opened your mouth to counter them, but realised it was actually true, and just nodded. “How can I help you anyway?” you asked instead.
They seemed to appreciate the segue into safer waters, and told you the name of the tome they were looking for. “It’s essentially a compendium of plants and fungi that grow only on the fringes of Silver Perch Lake in Aragantia,” they added. “A somewhat
 specialised catalogue, I’m aware.”
With a nod, you headed to the vast catalogue system and in almost no time at all, especially given how new you were to the post, you and the court mage were walking silently through the shelves of the royal library in search of the book’s location. Avery made no attempt to talk to you, and you assumed they preferred it that way. After all, you supposed, what could a humble librarian have to say to a necromancer and a mage as powerful as them anyway? In your relatively limited experience of mages, they tended to look down on anyone not powerful or supposedly intelligent enough to wield magic.
As you proceeded further and further into the dark stacks, the light dwindled to almost nothing, and in that moment you cursed the innate flammability of paper and parchment, longing for a lamp of sorts.
Slowing, and trying not to fumble, you squinted and ran your fingertips along the shelves to keep a straight course. During your interview for the position, you’d been told about the glowing crystals that the team of three librarians had access to, but apparently you were still too junior to warrant their secrets yet. It had not been expected, it seemed, that someone as important as Avery would require your assistance. Re-shelving returns in the main library was all you’d done so far in your short tenure after all.
“Here,” the lich said from behind you, the word spoken aloud making you jump all over again, and a moment later, a flickering ball of blue light wafted past you to float a pace or two in front of you. It moved when you did, bobbing slowly.
“Handy,” you grinned back at them over your shoulder. “Thanks.”
In the eerie pulsing light, the dark sockets of their skull and the smooth bone looked almost frightening, but you reminded yourself that this was not an old haunted castle from a horror story, and was in fact the hub of a great trading network whose machinations were aided by the work of the court mage, who also just happened to be a lich and, by extension, a necromancer.
With no expression at all to offer you comfort or reassurance, Avery just lowered their gaze and waited for you to move on again.
The book was right where it should have been - thank all the library gods - and once their skeletal hands had taken it reverently from you, little bones clicking softly as they shifted, Avery turned and left you in the stacks with a short ‘thank you’, the light light for company, and a thousand questions buzzing around your head.
Naturally, the first place you went after that was the section on liches and phylacteries, and there you lost yourself for well over an hour.
After that, the court mage found their way back to the library almost every time you were on duty. To your surprise, they were actually quite chatty, answering your tentative questions about their research with long and interesting answers, leafing through the book they’d just taken out to show you a diagram or ritual, constellation, or phase of the moon, and relaying its relevance to their work at the time without reserve.
“I’d always thought mages were secretive about their work,” you ventured one afternoon as sunlight flooded into the open study room at the back of the library where Avery had set up camp for the afternoon.
At your words, they looked up, an oddly tense and intrigued set to their head and you got the impression that, had they had the body to go with the bones, they might have been smiling curiously. “Why do you say that?”
“Well,” you began, feeling a little warm under the collar. Their close scrutiny made you shuffle and turn a little away from them to lessen it. “At the university, your lot always kept to themselves, you know? And no one else was allowed in their section of the library without a mage escort and a note of recommendation from about fifteen different tutors
 I got it eventually, of course —”
“— of course,” they interrupted with a wry smile in their voice.
Their tone may have been light and joking, but it carried the weight of enormous respect too, and you choked for a moment before babbling on again. “I’m not suggesting that anyone should just go in and help themselves to dangerous magical texts, don’t get me wrong
 It was just
 frustrating to be treated like that, that’s all.”
You turned to find them still regarding you with that birdlike curiosity and for a moment you forgot that they were little more than an immense reserve of magic holding together a stack of humanoid bones and wearing a dark robe. It might have been comical to see them that way, but honestly, in that moment, their blazing intelligence and slightly off-the-wall humour endeared you towards them even more. It wouldn’t have been a secret to suggest you had the beginnings of an almighty crush forming. If you didn’t beat it back soon, it would become unwieldy and unmanageable, and it wouldn’t end well for either of you. A member of the castle staff you might have been, but the court mage was one of the most powerful figures in the entire kingdom, and not meant for the likes of you.
And anyway, who was to say that there was anything about you to interest them anyway? The whole point of becoming a lich was to strip away all earthly connections save for the absolute fundamentals - the skeleton - and become an entity largely made of magic, the better to channel it. There were, you had to admit, one or two cases of liches binding themselves to living lovers, and accounts detailing the fierceness and loyalty of those rare unions had left you breathless as you’d scoured the volumes on liches all those weeks ago, but you couldn’t assume that Avery would be such a person after all.
If they had given a reply, you didn’t hear it behind the buzzing, rushing disappointment in your ears at that thought. Closing yourself off a little, you excused yourself politely and returned to your duties in the library beyond, leaving them alone in the study room. After all, Avery still had to figure out a way to harness the power of the sea itself in order to reduce the risk to life of those currently engaged in preparations to dredge and deepen the large trading harbour along the coast. Such complex calculations were hardly in the realm of a librarian.
About a week later, as you sat in the servant’s parlour one afternoon, where most of the castle staff gathered during their time off, a bookish young satyr, with curly, ash blond hair and contrastingly dark brown skin and horns, the stoop of a scholar, and a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, approached and asked for you by name in a warm, stutter-laced tenor.
“Yeah, that’s me
” you said, turning from your conversation with one of the naga guards. “What’s up?”
“Y-Y-You’re the llll
 the lllll
” the words just died on his tongue or stuck there like treacle, refusing to leave one syllable and move onto the next, but he took a breath and on the exhale said, “Librarian
?”
“I am,” you said. “If you need something from the stacks though, I think Timothy is on duty today.”
He nodded. “I
 I know. Avery
 sss-sssent me to
 to llll
 to lllllook for you. They’d llllike you to
 to
 to
” At the repetition, his cheeks flushed a bit, but you waited him out and he rallied. “To attend them in their t-t-t-tower to c-c-consult on something.”
“Oh. Really? What
 now?” you asked and the satyr nodded. He had a flighty, twitchy energy to him, but his features were kind and open and you decided immediately that you liked him. You turned back to the naga with whom you’d been sharing tea and easy conversation, and shrugged. “Guess I’ve been summoned. See you later.”
She nodded and hissed, “Good luck
” at you and you followed the young scholar out of the parlour. His large hooves clopped conspicuously on the stone of the passageways and he set quite the pace for you to keep up with.
“Are you
 like
 Avery’s
 assistant or something? I’m sorry, I don’t know the technical names
”
He nodded. “Name’s D-Devon,” he said as he ducked left through a doorway and held it open for you to follow. “Apprentice m-mmage and runec-c-caster.”
“Sweet,” you said, impressed. “I studied some very basic runes for another project a long time ago, but I’m not really magical in any way, so
 I didn’t pursue it. Is it as complicated as I remember?”
He smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Varies
”
You smirked and said, “That sounds like you’re being modest and generous, but I’ll let it slide. What does Avery need from me anyway?”
With a soft chuckle, Devon pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shrugged, beginning to climb a tight, spiral staircase. “Nnnot sure. They’ve been di-di-distracted all morning.”
“Guess I’ll just have to find out. I’ve never been up to the mage’s tower.”
The staircase went on and on forever and you actually had to stop for breath twice, rather embarrassingly. Devon was fitter than his scholar’s physique suggested, but he didn’t comment. You supposed doing this every day would build up anyone’s cardiovascular system in no time. “The view had better be worth it,” you grunted as you started up the last stretch of spiral staircase, and Devon nodded.
“Oh, it is.”
“Thank all the gods,” you hissed.
The door to Avery’s study was open, letting light flood in from the room beyond. For some reason, you’d imagined it would be dark and intimidating, and possibly full of bats and spiderwebs and creepy cursed objects in display cabinets, but theirs was a chamber full of bright light and warm colours. Taking half a moment to catch your breath again, you paused on the threshold while Devon headed on inside with evident and easy familiarity to inform Avery that he’d found you.
“Ah wonderful,” came that papery voice from inside. As you heard it, you wondered how a skeleton - with no vocal cords - could produce sound, deciding to chalk it up to magic and move on. “Thank you, Devon. Would you mind running over the plans for the layline ritual one more time while we have a quick chat?”
“Nnnnot at all,” Devon smiled, and disappeared into another room out of sight.
The delicate tread of footsteps on the bare floorboards announced Avery’s approach, and you stepped inside, not wanting to be seen to be lurking nervously. “Hi,” you breathed, still a tiny bit winded, as they moved into view around the huge trestle table that occupied the centre of the room. It was littered with books and pieces of velum, scrolls, and ancient clay tablets, all stacked at frankly alarming and precarious angles.
“Hello,” Avery said with a real warmth in their voice. You could hear the smile, even if they had no lips to form the gesture. “I apologise for making you come all the way up here. I realise it’s a long way from your usual quarters and duties.”
It was true - the library was in an entirely different wing of the rambling old citadel, and your sleeping quarters were again on the far side of that from the tower.
You shrugged. “It’s nice to see a new bit of the castle, I suppose.”
They tilted their head, the movement almost birdlike. “You haven’t seen all of it?” they asked.
You shook your head. “Only the bits I need to. Besides, I’ve only been here a couple of months now.” And in that time, you’d seen Avery almost every day at your library desk. “What did you need me for?” you asked with no small degree of incredulity in your voice.
With a little chuckle that honestly sounded a little nervous, Avery turned to a small writing desk that was tucked up against the stone wall beside a window with a spectacular view. They picked up a scroll and undid the ribbon that held it together, and you found your eyes fascinated by the tiny finger bones of their hands. You wondered what they’d feel like against your skin and flushed hot again, unable to look Avery in the face.  
“This is a copy of an inscription that was found in a tomb just north west of here, and while I am familiar with the writing system used, I cannot crack the meaning of it. I’m sure it’s right there, but
 I wondered, since you mentioned you’d studied the Early Peoples, if you might take a look at it for me?”
You blinked. “You can’t read it?”
“I can read it,” they said, “But I don’t understand the words. I know the symbols upon which the language is based, but not the language itself.”
“I thought there was nothing you didn’t know,” you murmured fondly as you stepped over and took the parchment from their extraordinarily delicate looking hand. The urge to touch grew once more almost overwhelming.
A soft snort of laughter almost in your ear sent shivers down your whole right side, the skin prickling into goosebumps. “Please,” they scoffed good-naturedly. “Besides, if I knew everything already, I wouldn’t need to make such frequent trips to the library, would I?”
“And here I thought you were coming all the way down there just to visit me,” you quipped self-effacingly, turning your attention to the inscription and missing they way they went completely still before shaking their head ever so slightly.
It took longer than your pride might have liked for you to figure it all out, and you sent Avery scuttling about their office for three different dictionaries and half a dozen grammar tables before you were happy that you’d got it right. Devon had long ago excused himself for the evening, but you’d barely even noticed him leaving, though the murmur of their soft conversation had drifted around you for quite some time while you teased out a bit of odd grammar.
When you looked up at last, you found Avery standing alone by the window, bathed in the rosy light of sunset. The rich, warm rays made the black of their robes seem dull and almost drab - humble beyond what you’d have expected of a court mage with the coffers of the castle at their fingertips - and the angle of the light blazing into their face almost eclipsed the green, misty glow in their eye sockets. For just a moment, they almost looked like nothing more than an ordinary skeleton in an anatomy lab. When they felt your gaze on them, however, they turned - every bone animated and shifting fluidly, bone scraping with a soft, familiar whisper over bone.
They cocked their head again and you smiled. “All done, I think,” you said, standing from where you’d been hunched over the small, cluttered writing desk, and cracking the tension out of your neck with a grunt.
“Thank you,” they murmured. “I am indebted to you yet again, it would seem.”
You shrugged. “What’s it for anyway?” you asked. “I mean
 I don’t really see how knowing that the sun will hit the back of the tomb on the winter solstice is of much use to anyone
”
They gave another little movement of their head that seemed like a pout to you, though you had only the bare skull to go from. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. The tomb contained artefacts that thrummed with energy, so it would indicate that the Early Peoples had access to - and some degree of control over - magic too. Perhaps that date was of significance to them too. I will have to return to the site on the solstice to find out. Then we’ll know if it was of any ‘use’ as you say, or if it’s just interesting.”
“I see,” you said and your stomach chose that moment to growl at you like a spoiled house cat.
“Would
 Would you like to stay here for some supper? I can have food brought up here to my chambers if you’ve missed out
” they said awkwardly, turning away from the window and back towards the central trestle table. As they moved the line of gilded sunlight slid from their delicate brow bones and plunged their skull into shadow again behind the hood. You’d never seen them without it raised. “It’s
 later than I realised
”
“I’d have thought you could just magic some food up for me,” you grinned, honestly hoping it would disguise the fluttering nerves you felt at the thought of sharing a meal up here. Plus, their tone had gone inexplicably sad somehow.
They looked down at the table and said, “I could do that, of course, but transmuted food tastes awful, or
 so I’ve been told. I don’t eat any more for
 obvious reasons.”
“Do you miss it?” you blurted.
They stilled and trailed a bony fingertip across the wood. “Yes and no. I miss the pleasure that eating my favourite things brought me.”
“You still remember the taste
?”
Fixing you with a steady, if sidelong, look, they said, “I’m not that old, you know?”
“I
” you said and then stopped when they started laughing. “What?”
“I have to admit that I find it immensely entertaining any time someone assumes I’m a thousand years old. I’m not. I’m only thirty.”
“Thirty?” you gawped. “That’s
 That’s so young to —” again, you cut yourself off before you said something truly insensitive, but Avery didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m used to it. And it is indeed young to have your physical form completely stripped bare in exchange for unfathomable magical power. It’s not a choice made lightly, and it’s not a choice that everyone would be prepared to make. It’s rare these days for someone to undergo it willingly.”
Horrified, you blinked at them. “Willingly? You mean it’s inflicted on people?”
They shrugged. “Rarely. It’s hard to control a person’s soul like that, but with the right runes on the phylactery, it can be done. Mercifully, that wasn’t the case with me though, and if you’re caught, the punishment is severe.”
“So
 how does someone so young get the position of court mage?”
With another rasping laugh like dry autumn leaves, Avery said, “As opposed to someone so old and experienced, you mean?”
You shrugged, still kind of mute with surprise at the new revelation, and they laughed again. “Sorry.”
“I went to university with the princess. We became friends, and she saw what I could do. I was still an elf then though.”
“You’re
 You’re an elf?”
“I’m a lich,” they corrected, “But yes, I was an elf when I was officially alive. Did my short stature and particularly fine wrist bones not give it away?” they joked self-deprecatingly, proffering their pale wrist towards you to examine.
When you actually reached out and touched them, however, a spark like static jumped between you and you both gasped.
“Excuse me,” they gasped, withdrawing their hand immediately. “I
 That hasn’t happened in a long time.”
“What was it?” you asked, rubbing your fingertips and thumb together where the skin tingled. It hadn’t hurt, and it left your entire body tingling all over beneath the skin, and heat was rapidly pooling between your legs.
“My magic,” they said. “It’s usually not as forward and ill-mannered as that. I apologise if it startled you.”
“Forward? Ill-mannered?” you asked, amused and intrigued. “You say that like magic has a personality
”
“It does,” the lich sighed, the bones of their ribs creaking softly.
While, academically speaking, you knew what any elven skeleton looked like, you still ached to know the exact shape of Avery beneath the black robes that draped shapelessly over them; the exact way their bones fitted together; the exact colour; any breaks they’d sustained, leaving the evidence in their skeleton
 “Alright, but why
 ‘forward’?”
“And here I thought I was being terribly obvious,” they muttered.
“Obvious?”
A tilt of their head in your direction served perfectly as a rueful glance, the ardour behind it striking you in the chest with an alarmingly painful pang, and exactly as it occurred to you that you’d learned to read Avery pretty well by now, you also realised precisely what they’d been insinuating. “Oh
” you said, imbuing the sound with significance.
“Oh indeed,” they said bitterly. “Never mind. I quite understand that the attentions of a lich are not
 not what everyone would aspire to after all
 I apologise if
 if I made you uncomfortable. I will not persist.”
“Wait, slow down,” you said, stepping forward suddenly and trying to catch their gaze with your eyes. It was hard to tell where they were really looking, given that all you had to go on was the rough direction of their head and the soft glow in their otherwise empty eye sockets, but when you got the impression that they were looking directly at you, you spoke up. “I’m sorry,” you began.
“Don’t be sorry,” they hissed, trying to turn away.
“No, wait, that’s not
 that’s not what I meant!” Finding you had no choice, you reached out and latched onto their wrist. The bones beneath the long fabric of the sleeves felt so achingly fragile that you almost recoiled for fear of hurting them, but you made your fingers loosen just a fraction and stayed put. You needn’t have worried anyway; Avery was tethered and still at your touch in a heartbeat. “I mean, I am sorry, but I’m sorry for being dense, not that you
 you know
”
“That I’ve been so poorly attempting to flirt with you for the last month?” they finished dryly.
“Now that I know, why don’t we start over
?” you said, releasing them and smiling hopefully.
Adopting a truly sarcastic pose and tone, they held out their skeletal hand and said nastily, “I’m Avery, I’m a lich, and I’m apparently an appallingly poor flirt.” The ugliness in their voice was not directed at you, however. Avery had turned it back on themselves and it galled you to hear someone so brilliant sound so defeated.
Unflinchingly, you took their hand and stared fiercely back at the lich who had become your friend in these first months at the castle, and perhaps something more. “I didn’t mean to start over that far back, but I’ll play your game.” You added your own name and profession, that you were human, and finished by saying, “And I’m very much open to being flirted with by you, however poorly you think you do it.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Avery said, their thumb playing back and forth over your skin before promptly changing the subject. “You never did answer me about dinner though. Would you like to stay here and eat? Or would my not partaking make you uncomfortable?”
Sensing that they needed a moment’s diversion, you allowed them to skirt around the issue of being interested in you, and shook your head. “Dinner here with you sounds lovely. Plus the view is spectacular.”
“I knew it. You want me for my advantageous chambers,” they moaned, still deflecting defensively.
“I meant that there’s something to keep you occupied while you wait for me to finish, that’s all,” you huffed in response to their teasing. “But if the view bores you by now, I’m sure you could always read to me from some dusty old volume you’ve nicked from the library and neglected to return
”
“You wound me!” they said, placing both hands over their heart, or at least, where their heart would have been if they weren’t just a skeleton anymore. “Is there anything you don’t eat? Would you like wine?”
You shook your head. “No, I’m good with most things, as far as I know, and
” you bit your lip and then reluctantly admitted that actually a glass of wine might be really nice. Your salary was not so meagre that you couldn’t afford a drink or two in the local taverns, but you suspected a wine from the castle cellars might be a little more special.
Instead of ringing for a servant, Avery picked up a quill and a small piece of paper, and dictated their message aloud after a quick flick of their wrist had brought the quill to life. It skimmed across the page like a breeze-blown willow branch trailing through a pond, and as you watched, you wondered if that was what Avery’s handwriting looked like, or whether the script was a result of magic, or the quill itself. Either way, it was beautiful, and you suddenly thought of the rather romantic notion of having love letters penned to you in that hand

Their voice turned more confident as they dictated the note to the quill. “I am entertaining a guest in my tower tonight. Please have a fine supper for one brought up to the mage’s tower at your earliest convenience, with a bottle of Aktissian red too, if you please.”
“Avery!” you gasped, recognising the quality of the wine purely from it’s location.
They shrugged and finished off the note with another brief gesture, and you watched as it disappeared with a little pop. “I like to dictate my messages in case the person on the other end cannot read. Not all of the castle staff have been blessed with our educations, after all. In such a case, it will read itself aloud.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” you commented.
They shrugged. “It saves me sending Devon, or going myself and terrifying the wits out of the kitchen staff, or ringing for someone to trudge all the way up here, only to have to go back and return later
” It seemed odd to you now that Avery could be frightening to anyone, but you recalled your own unease at your first encounter, and merely smiled at them again.
Wherever the note had gone, it must have reached the right ears, because twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at Avery’s door and a castle servant entered with a large tray.
“Thank you so much,” Avery said as the half-orc set the meal down on the table.
“Anything else you need, mage?”
“No, that’s all, thank you.”
You chimed in with your own thanks and the servant left.
Avery waved a hand at the table where they’d cleared a space amid the chaos of stationary and books, and you sat yourself down. They lifted the lid of the silver cloche and revealed a beautiful supper that looked fit for the princess’ high table. Eyeing Avery, you caught a little glint in their glowing eye sockets, and you assumed that they were pleased too.
In fact, Avery did not read to you while you ate, but they did watch you rather intently. “You’re going to make me all self-conscious,” you muttered. “This is delicious though.”
“Would you rather I not watch you?”
“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just not used to such
 intense attention
”
“You’re gorgeous,” they murmured awkwardly, voice rich and husky, as though their magic was crackling uncontrollably beneath the surface.
After a pause, during which you encouraged your heart to beat normally, and the poor organ took absolutely no heed of your pleas whatsoever, you said, “So are you
”
If Avery could have rolled their eyes, you were sure they would have. Instead, they just pressed their hands to the table and leaned back in their chair. “I’m just a pile of bones and magic now
 I’m honestly surprised you permitted me the indulgence of courting you.”
“It’s not an indulgence, Avery. Well, maybe it is, but it’s an indulgence for me. Each visit you’ve paid to the library has left me in quite a state, I’ll have you know.”
The lich went still at that and then very slowly tilted their head to one side. “Oh?” they asked, voice dipping lower with obvious intrigue. “Care to explain that?”
With a half smile, you set down your cutlery on your empty plate and pushed back a little way from the table to make yourself more comfortable. Crossing your legs, you said archly, “Any time you come close to me, you leave me tingling all over. I don’t know if it’s your magic, or you, or what, but
 When you were leaning over my shoulder back there —” you nodded over at the writing desk, memories of their right hand pressed to the wood as they peered over your shoulder at your progress, the heady scent of incense and ozone swirling around their robes, the particular timbre of their voice as they hummed in thoughtful understanding at your translation

“Yes?” they prompted, voice cracking.
Heat coiled between your legs and in your lower body, slowly filling you with a warm, glowing sensation that shot up your spine and made your head spin. “I could hardly think,” you whispered. “It’s a miracle I finished the translation.”
The light in their eyes guttered and flickered before returning with a new, brighter intensity. Where before it had been a pale, pastel green, it now burned with a searingly hot blue.
“Avery?”
The lich sat there and stared at you before twitching their head and shoulders a little. “Forgive me. We
 We probably shouldn’t move that quickly
”
You raised your eyebrows. “How quickly?”
“Quickly,” they said. “You deserve to be courted properly.”
“And what if I’m as impatient as you are?” you asked, heart pounding. Gods, you wanted whatever they had to give you and you wanted it now. You ached, inside and out. “It wouldn’t stop you from still ‘courting’ me if you wanted
”
Avery stood and then stalled. “I
” They growled softly in frustration and started again. “I am
 I haven’t
 not since
”
“Avery
 I know what you are. I know what you must look like under that robe, and I still want you,” you said fiercely.
“Gods,” they hissed, turning to face you, eyes blazing blue.
“Your eyes?” you asked. “They’ve changed colour. Is that your magic?”
They nodded. “What
 What would you like from me?”
“Touch me,” you said honestly.
“I can conjure
 uh
 a variety of physical
 um
 shapes
” they faltered awkwardly and your brain supplied the rest, but they raised one hand and you found that where the bones had been before, they now supported a ghostly hand. They turned it over to show you their palm and then flipped it over again. You could still see the bones through the spectral hand that moved like translucent, living glass.
You shook your head, “Come here,” you said, and they did.
You stood up and ignored their new spectral hand in favour of running one fingertip around the orbital bones of their skull. Avery shuddered, joints rattling audibly beneath the robes as it shivered down their whole skeleton.
“Can I kiss you?” you asked. “Could you create
 a tongue for me?”
With a mute nod, looking stunned, Avery opened their jaw and you saw a glowing, green tongue inside, translucent and glistening.
Pressing your lips to their teeth felt odd at first, especially when the cool of that single silver tooth caught your lips, but when the tongue immediately lapped at your lips, begging entry, you forgot the strangeness of it. You came alive again beneath that kiss as Avery’s hands found their way to your waist and then up to the back of your head where they let their bony fingers snake through your hair before gripping you tightly and tugging until you pulled back with a gasp. Panting and dizzy you let Avery nip at your exposed neck, tongue occasionally laving at your skin, shockingly cool and leaving it tingling.
One of Avery’s hands palmed your groin questioningly and your knees nearly went out from beneath you. “Yes,” you gasped. “Oh gods, please
 I want
 touch me
 please
”
Your chest heaved and you let them steer you back into your chair behind you. When you landed, they tenderly began to undo your waistband, and you lifted your hips to slide a little way free of your clothes. Avery’s eyes blazed as they stared at you, your arousal evident with your clothes around your ankles. “May I use this
?” they asked, opening their mouth to reveal that long, thick, prehensile tongue.
“Gods yes,” you blurted, lifting your hips weakly again. “Please
 Avery
 I need you
”
The lich knelt before you and hesitantly placed their skeletal hands on your thighs. Looking down at them, nestled between your legs, you felt like you could come just from that sight alone.
“I’m not going to last long,” you warned them, practically shivering with arousal. “Gods
 Avery, you’re
” Whatever Avery was to you in that moment, you never got the chance to tell them.
The instant their tongue touched you, lapping teasingly at you to start with, magic and sensation roared through you, ripping along your nerves and wiping your mind blank of all but intense pleasure. The slickness of their conjured tongue, supple and almost like a tentacle as it pleasured you, and the coolness of the mouth behind, set against the firm, unyielding pressure of their bare bones digging into the muscle of your thighs hard enough that it would bruise, drove you to the quivering edge in minutes.
Your hands scrabbled helplessly at the arms of the chair, your hips bucked unbidden up into the sensations Avery was offering you, fire danced along your nerves, and your blood sang in your ears. “Avery!” you screamed in warning, and then, with one final flick and press of their tongue against your most sensitive spot, you shattered.
With your mind blank, vision dark, Avery tore your release from you and prolonged it, either with their magic or just by their presence, until you whimpered and slumped in the chair, limp and spent and ironically boneless.
Finally, after lingering just a little longer, Avery sat back on their heels and stared up at you, one hand still on your quivering thigh. “Beautiful,” they rasped. “Gods above and below, but you come so beautifully.”
“I’ve never
 come like that,” you croaked, throat raw. Had you come so hard you’d made yourself hoarse?
Avery summoned a goblet of water from the table to their hand and stood. “Here,” they said.
You drank, and as you set the goblet shakily back on the table, you glanced at them and saw a glistening droplet slide down their exposed ankle bone and drip onto the floor. Seeing where your gaze had gone, they chuckled. “Am I expected to remain unaffected by what you just gave me?” they said archly as you did your own clothes up again, just enough not to be completely exposed any more.
“How
? What
?” You began, but then shook your head and leaned forwards. Tentatively, you reached out a hand for the front of their cross-over robes and unbuttoned them at the waist. Drawing the fabric slowly aside, you felt them tense, but you kept going and they permitted it.
As the final fitting came loose, the robes hung open like a coat and revealed their skeleton beneath. To your surprise, they were not merely an empty ribcage and spine, hollow pelvis and slender leg bones. Constantly swirling inside them like a mixture of phosphorescence and ink, was a kind of magical core. Like an entity all of its own, it pulsed and coiled, writhing with tendrils of light and darkness that played along their ribs and teased up their spine like ivy. “Gods, Avery, you’re stunning,” you murmured and looked up to find their face tilted downwards, regarding you carefully.
Your eyes roved down their body to their pelvis, where the phosphorescent light seemed to have coalesced, spiralling around their hip bone like swirling liquid in a glass and
 dripping tangibly down their leg.
“Can I
 touch it?” you asked and they nodded. There was a long drip of it running down their femur almost to the knee, so you brought your fingertip up and trailed it cautiously through the strange, glowing wetness. “Is it magic?” you asked as your finger went numb and then began to tingle rather enticingly. Gods, what would that feel like against your body
 even
 inside you? Now there was an unexpected thought.
“It’s
 akin to
 oh gods,” they hissed suddenly, their hand flying to your shoulder as you traced a circle through it on the very edge of their curving hipbone.
“Mmm?” you asked, not relenting but not moving anywhere else.
Struggling to form words, Avery tried again. “Akin to when a ghost becomes corporeal.”
“Your magic is coalescing like ectoplasm?”
“In a way, oh
 oh
 ohhhh,” they moaned, staggering as you moved further up the wide scoop of their hip bone towards their spine and back again. “I can’t
 I can’t keep upright
 if you do that again
 I’ll fall
 I
”
“You want to move somewhere else?” you asked and they nodded.
Turning and leading you unsteadily without a word towards a closed door that led off from the study, Avery showed you to their bedroom and then hesitated, as though unsure as to quite what you wanted with them now that you had then naked.
“Bed?” you asked and they nodded, encouraged.
The fact that they seemed to be waiting for you to balk and run stung, but it made you more determined than ever to show them pleasure. Especially since they’d apparently not been with anyone since becoming a lich.
“Tell me what you like best,” you said.
“Your touch,” they blurted immediately.
“Alright,” you said with a tiny laugh. That was a start. “Lie back then.”
They lay down on the dark green blankets of the neatly made bed, their robes pooling behind them like ink, and stared up at you as you followed and sank down beside them.
Watching that swirling magical core for a moment, you reached out and traced their wrist first, working up to their shoulder, and then to that ever-present smile on their bare skull. The light in their eyes now burned a softer blue, occasionally flaring to the intense cobalt you’d seen before when you skimmed a particularly sensitive spot, and their jaw worked as if they were panting and gasping but couldn’t summon the magic to make the sounds.
The storm of essence in their ribcage swirled and crackled, tiny forks of lightning dancing through the clouds where their heart would have been, and you watched their spine flex and arch. The bones of their hands clenched the sheets into balls and as you moved lower and lower down their enchanted body, you watched the phosphorescent light begin to condense again as it hit their bones, running down in thick, slow rivulets to pool in the fabric of their robes, leaving only glittering, darker patches behind.
“Where’s most intense?” you asked, assuming you knew already. The point where the two halves of their pelvis met at the centre proved to be extremely sensitive, and as you ran your finger around it, they lurched wildly, the magic in their chest flaring and sparking again. “There?”
“Yes,” they gasped.
The magic began to grow, solidify, and as you circled the cool bone of their lower pelvis, a long, thick tentacle of magic coiled out of it and wrapped around your hand. It was real and tangible, corporeal, and slick as sin. “Avery,” you moaned as it clenched tightly around your wrist like an octopus’ limb.
“Want you,” they said. In the next moment, the tentacle released you and coiled back on itself, creating a soft passage inside them. Taking advantage of this, you slid two fingers into the channel and crooked them against the solid wall of pulsing magic.
Avery yelled with pleasure, spine arching again like a bow at full draw, magic expanding out through their ribs like a storm cloud, unable to be contained. Pressing hard against their walls, you rubbed intense and tiny circles while the magic flared and reached for your hand in return.
Flowing back and forth like waves of the ocean, Avery’s pleasure enveloped you and you felt it in your own mind as suddenly and as keenly as if it were your own. Their magic was reaching out for you and you allowed the connection without hesitation.
“I’m so close,” Avery whimpered, body taut and thrumming.
“I can feel it,” you whispered.
At that, Avery chanted, “I’m
 Oh gods, there, like that
 I’m
 I’m going to
 I can’t hold back any more
 I
”
“Come for me, Avery,” you begged, and they broke.
Tendrils of black shadow shot out from their body like vines, filling the corner of the room and staying there like webs, while the core of their magic pulsed and throbbed, blazing with blue light. Liquid magic rolled over your hand as they came and came, body undulating and heaving, jaw open wide in a rictus of pleasure. The sight of it was almost enough to make you come too, but instead you simply stared at the magic you’d brought out and the pleasure you’d wrought in them.
Eventually, the black tendrils evaporated into a fine mist and vanished altogether, and the cloud of roiling magic settled down again and retreated back within Avery’s ribcage. The phosphorescent magic lingered on your skin, however, and as you moved to lie down beside them, you slid your hand down the waistband of your clothes and touched yourself with it still on your skin.
Avery was barely able to turn their head to watch as you brought yourself to another blinding orgasm, but their fingertips brushed against your free wrist just as you neared your second peak and you tumbled over the edge with a grunt and their name on your lips.
In the aftermath, you both lay there for a long time before either of you moved. Swallowing, you turned to look at them and found that the light in their eyes had gone back to green again, though this time it was dark and almost imperceptible. “Avery? You alright?” you asked.
They hummed softly in response. “Tired,” they admitted. “That
 That was a lot of magic. I didn’t expect
” they huffed a laugh.
“Did I hurt you?” you asked, horrified.
“No,” they smiled, gripping your fingers in theirs for a moment before they lost the strength and went limp. “Quite the contrary. But I’m spent, in more ways than one.”
“Sorry
?” you ventured and they laughed. “Can I stay?” you added.
“Of course,” they replied. “I’m right in the middle of the bed, aren’t I? Do you have enough room?”
“I could use a little more, but if I lie on my side, I can manage alright.”
“I can’t even lift a finger at the moment,” they admitted. “I’m sorry. If you need me to move, you’ll have to lift me yourself.”
The vulnerability they were offering you struck you deeply. “Alright,” you said. “You sure you don’t mind?”
The tiniest shake of their head was all they could muster.
Sliding your arm beneath their neck and your other behind their knees, you tentatively raised them and nearly gasped at how light they were.
As if sensing your surprise, Avery managed a dry chuckle. “Elf, remember? Bones of a bird
”
You set them back down on the further pillow and nestled in beside them. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” you asked.
“It won’t be comfortable. Bring a cushion over
” they whispered, nodding at the other side of the room where a modest chaise longue, upholstered in what looked like silk, sat against the wall, adorned with a couple of dainty pillows. The sight made you smile for some reason, and you took the opportunity to clean up a little at a washstand in the corner of the room. When you returned with a cushion, you found that the light was completely extinguished from their skull.
The magic still swirled away inside their chest, and as you laid the pillow down on their shoulder and watched their core shifting lazily - contentedly - you found yourself following them into a blank and blissful sleep.
___
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afoolandathief · 3 years ago
Text
Find the word tag swears edition
Couldn't help swiping the open tag for this from @jezifster and going on a wild search for these.
Tws for some gore under "asshole" and language, obviously:
Fuck (Something Wicked)
It wasn’t the crush of traffic, but a vibration filling his ears and ringing through his jawbone that woke him in a tangled cocoon of sheets and sweet-smelling sweat. His phone continued to shake and threaten to fall off his end table as his head pulsed with each beat.
Caz rolled his eyes back to the sliver of light burning from underneath the vinyl on his windows. It was early, well before sunset. Who the fuck would be calling at this hour?”
Shit (Something Wicked)
“Yeah, Iris,” he said, pulling himself out of his stupor. “I’m on a new diet, remember? Only the most scum-sucking, absolute pieces of shit for me.”
Iris muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “You are what you eat,” but he let it slide. He’d walked into that one.
Bitch (Something Wicked)
Derek stumbled for a moment, but then had Jade back up against the car.
“Why are you being a bitch?” he said. “What is it, Jade? You going to go back to your faggot boyfriend, or something?”
The sheer ridiculousness of that statement, of this entire situation, caused a laugh to bubble out of Jade’s throat.
“I don’t need him for this,” she said.
Ass (Those Horrid, Horrid Things)
“Fenrir,” Loki said.
He looked back at them, his mouth set in a grimace.
“Good job out there,” they said.
Fenrir stared at them for a moment.
“Where’s the ‘but?’” he asked. “Where’s the explanation of what I did wrong?”
Loki shrugged.
“I was being an ass,” they said.
Fenrir didn’t say anything, but smirked slightly as he stared back at the water.
Damn (Sinblings)
They also found an old crib in the garage, cushioned it with sheets and pillows, and set it by the bed they had made up for themself. Envy didn’t need to sleep, but they preferred to. If seven billion humans got to do it, then damn it, they would, too.
Bonus:
Asshole (Something Wicked)
Jade ignored him and continued inspecting the corpse, using the curve of her knife to lift the dress from cold skin. No other rune, and only a few weak strands of magic trailing off the body. She cupped the girl’s chin in her hand and held her face close to her own.
“Hey assholes,” she said. “Fucking give me a phone call next time you want to send a message.”
Then she took her knife and plunged it into the left eye socket, hooking it under the eyeball and uprooting the pale globe before repeating it with the right eye.
Tits (Yonder)
When Logi was a boy, his father had told him stories of heroes who had taken on quests for the Little Folk. While some began with mishaps like his own, they always ended with decent-sized rewards from the fairies.
Which gave him an idea.
“Perhaps I can repay you,” he said. “Maybe there’s a beast that needs to be killed? Or a princess locked in a tower? Or even some chores to be done on your farm?”
He was cut off as a tiny shovel was launched at him, leaving a gash on his lip.
“Ymir’s tits!” he swore in Jotuntung.
Motherfucker (Sinblings)
Avarice sat down next to Sloth in one of the waiting room chairs.
“I feel like I don’t have much to contribute to this,” Sloth said to them.
“Same,” Avarice said. “I mean, my usual solution to a problem is to throw money at it. Not sure how that would work, here. Unless -”
They stood up and began digging in their jacket pocket, pulling out an ancient piece of bronze the size of a golf ball.
“Eat this, motherfuckers!” they cackled, chucking it towards the angel at the front desk.
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wlntrsldler · 4 years ago
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unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)
PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?
WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???
PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader
WC: 2.2K
UNREQUITED MASTERLIST
-
PART 3
“Y/N!” 
You heard the twins’ cheery voices from across the hall. You looked up to see their grinning faces, completely unbothered by the fact that they got themselves two weeks worth of detention with Umbridge. Fred and George happily made their way over to the bench where you sat by yourself. 
“Hello, boys,” You smiled, eyes darting to the red scars on the top of their hands. “What happened to you two?”
“Umbridge.” They grunted, wincing in pain as their open scars oozed small droplets of blood. “She’s brutal.” 
“Well, now I feel horrible.” You frowned, examining their hands. “I should be going through this with you.”
“Nonsense.” Fred hushed. 
“Our job is to make you smile.” George stated. “Bringing you down with us is quite the opposite of that.” 
“Your job?” You questioned, confused by their choice of words. “I appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think my happiness should be your job. You two should be taking care of yourselves.”
“Yeah but we never break a promise.” 
A puzzled look took over your face, unsure of what they were talking about. Before you could ask them about it, they said their goodbyes and left you alone once again. You sighed, returning to the comfort of your book. The whispers haven’t stopped. In fact, they haven’t slowed down from the time you’ve arrived at Hogwarts. Granted that it's only been a day, but you would think that Wizards and Witches would find comfort in other things rather than the loneliness of a half-blood Hufflepuff. 
You continued to ignore their words and their constant need to tiptoe around you. They feared you. It was like they were afraid of you now that you were alone. Cedric always was the more popular one. Outgoing by nature and easy on the eyes. You remembered the attention he got once he was chosen to be a champion and the envious eyes of every girl who saw you beside him at all times. Envious eyes followed you as you entered the Yule Ball with him, hand in hand, with an irreplaceable smile etched on your face. 
You never once thought that you’d miss those envious eyes but right now, you’d much rather take those over their eyes of pity. 
You closed your book, stuffing it in your book bag, before getting up to wander around the castle. Although you’ve attended Hogwarts for years, you seemed to not know your way around. You always relied on Cedric to take you from one place to another, never once imagining that there’d be a day where he wouldn’t be two steps ahead of you. 
You heard a soft humming coming from the girls’ lavatory, one that you didn’t even know existed. You followed the voice, ignoring the signs saying that it was out of order. You peeked around and saw a ghost, a girl, twirling in the air all by herself. Had it been any other day, you would’ve ran away in fear that you’ve angered the ghost, but something about her pigtails and sweet voice assured you that you’d be alright. 
The lavatory was empty, hollow almost. It was unused and not cared for in the slightest.. Had it not been for the ghost, it would’ve been deprived of any sign of life. The air was chilly, a lot colder than the halls that led up to it. And it was so quiet. The silence was eerie. You could no longer hear the chatter from students just a few meters away. It was like the sounds bounced off the walls. 
“Hello,” You greeted, stepping out from behind the wall. “That’s a lovely tune.”
She turned around, stunned, but it subsided once she took a look at you. “Why, hello there. Thank you, a friend of mine taught me the song. What brings you here?” 
“Just wandering,” You shrugged. You motioned to the empty lavatory. “May I join you?”
“Of course,” She smiled, floating down towards you. “Are you wandering because you’re lonely?” 
You blinked a few times, taken back by her question. You pondered for a moment, deciding if you should lie to her as you’ve been lying to everyone else who asked you about your well-being. You decided not to lie, not really seeing any consequences of being truthful to a ghost. “Yes, how did you know?”
“A lot of lonely souls find their way to me.” She responded nonchalantly. “My name is Myrtle.”
“Nice to meet you.” You nodded, realizing that she was the ghost everyone mentioned. You didn’t think that the rumors were true, but now that you’ve met her, you didn’t mind it. “My name is Y/N.” 
Myrtle grinned, eyes lighting up at your name. “Y/N Y/L/N?” 
You furrowed your eyebrows, confused, but nodded anyway. How did she know who you were? “Yes, that’s me.” 
Her bubbly laugh filled the silence of the room. She twirled in the air, excitement evident in her actions. “You’re Cedric’s friend!” 
“You know Cedric?” 
“We met once.”
“May I ask how?”
She giggled like a schoolgirl, blushing behind the hand she used to cover her mouth. “I helped him with the golden egg.”
Your voice faltered. “I see.”
“Oh my,” She frowned. “I seem to have forgotten. I apologize.”
“It’s quite alright, Myrtle.” You gulped, blinking back tears. 
“Hmm,” Myrtle mumbled. “He talked about you the entire time. By the end of it all, I became so excited to meet you. I made him promise that he’d let me meet you if I helped him figure out the clue.”
You smiled a bit at her confession, knowing that Cedric would’ve taken you to meet her if fate hadn’t taken him so soon. “I’m sorry that he’s broken his promise.” 
“You seemed to find your way here anyway.”
-
You sat beside Hermione at the Gryffindor table, trying to focus on their smiles rather than the jabber around you: “She’s a Hufflepuff, why is she sitting here?” “I guess that’s what happens when you’ve only got one friend.” “Poor girl. She lost Cedric and now she’s as lost as ever.”
It’s been a few weeks since your arrival at Hogwarts and you were starting to find your ground again. You started hanging out with the Trio more often, as well as continuing your adventures with the Twins. You’ve slowly started to learn how to live again. The other students, however, have not. It only made it worse that the only friends you did have were from a different house. 
Hermione grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze in appreciation, “I’m glad you’re sitting with us. I was getting scared that you preferred the twins.”
You smiled, “I could never replace you, Hermione.” You motioned towards Harry and Ron, who were gulping down food before they even chewed it, from across the table. “They, however, can be replaced.” 
Ron looked up at your words, eyes narrowing, “Hey, that’s not nice.” 
“Don’t worry, Ron,” Harry nudged him, not looking up from his pile of food. “She knows she loves us.” 
“Sure, Potter. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 
Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at your silly banter, happy that you're slowly reverting back to your old self. She knew that you’ll never truly be who you once were but the way that you smile at little comments and laugh at stupid jokes makes her feel a bit hopeful. The boys were also relieved to see you sitting with them again. They knew that you left to be by yourself when you first arrived at Hogwarts and they decided that it would be best to leave you alone. They didn’t want to push you or pressure you to hang out with them but in all honesty, they missed you. They missed you terribly. 
You continued to talk about nothing for a few minutes before a package landed in front of you. You looked down at it, inspecting the address, and the wrapping parchment. The trio stared at you, urging you to open the it. You obliged and started to rip apart the parchment. Your heart sunk as you saw a familiar yellow fabric under a note from your aunt. 
It read: “You forgot this and I saw it in your closet when I was cleaning out your room. I saw it was a bit dirty so I took the liberty of putting it in the wash for you. We love you and we miss you.” 
You moved the note aside, taking in a sharp breath when your fingers touched the sweater. You saw that the stain where Cedric’s blood once was, was faded, leaving an ugly orange mark where his initials were embroidered. Your hands shook as you lifted it up to place near your chest. You didn’t realize that she would be going through your things. You weren’t expecting this to show up in front of you. 
As you choked on your sobs, you heard the whispers start up again, but this time they were all jumbled. You didn’t care enough to say anything. You got up, sweater in your hand, and ran out. You heard Ron call out for you, silverware clattering as he tried to follow, but Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm, reminding him that you process grief differently. You ran towards the path to the secret passageway, shoving past everyone who stood in your way. Once you got there, you froze upon seeing people standing near it. You didn’t want to risk anyone else knowing about it. 
Sighing, you made your way to another part of the castle that you’ve grown fond of. As you climbed up the steps, you stared down at the sweater in your arms. It was pathetic how something so small could have such an effect on you. You were aware that death is something of the inevitable. But maybe it was your muggle side that never understood it, how everyone managed to recover from death so quickly. Even Harry who didn’t even know about the Wizard world seemed to recover so fast. You never understood it. 
As you neared the astronomy tower, you heard a familiar tune. Someone was there, humming something that you swore you’ve heard before. You looked inside and saw Draco leaning against the railing, staring off into the distance. His robe was swaying in the wind, his fingers tapping against the metal following the rhythm of the tune he was humming. 
His expression was unreadable. His eyes were stone cold and his jaw was set. He clenched it ever so slightly. Draco closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling through his nose. He looked almost peaceful up there. The murmur of his chest, the rustling of the winds in the distance, and the soft creaking of the steps were the only things heard. 
“Who’s there?” 
You flinched, not knowing what excuse you would have to say as to why you spent a good few minutes staring at him in admiration. Mustering up the courage to speak, you revealed yourself to Draco, hiding the sweater behind your back. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here.” 
“What are you doing here?” He asked, not fully turning his body to face you. 
“I’m assuming the same as you.” You shrugged, taking his question as an invitation to join him. “Needed to get away.” 
“This place is occupied, Hufflepuff.” Draco noted, annoyance laced in his voice. “Find your own place.” 
You ignored his comment, planting yourself beside him. He moved a few steps away, irritated by your stubbornness to stay. “I suppose I haven’t said my proper thanks for letting me off the hook with Umbridge that one night.”
“I don’t need your thanks.” He commented, now facing you. His eyes were a bit glossy and his voice was scratchy. It seemed like he’d been crying. “But I do need you to see yourself out.” 
Again you ignored him, staring him straight in the eye. “What tune were you humming? It sounded familiar.” 
“Y/N.” He said, more sternly this time. “Leave.” 
“No.”
Draco sighed, running his fingers through his hair. You noticed that the ring was no longer on his finger. In fact, the only indication that he was a Slytherin was his robe, which was unusual for him. He often liked to wear his house pride in every way possible. You found it quite obnoxious at times. 
“Fine,” He finally settled, stepping away from the railings and towards the steps to exit. “Then I’ll leave.” 
Before he could take his first step down, you spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell Umbridge about me?”
He paused, hand gripping the sides of the staircase. You heard him gulp. “Don’t question it. It’s annoying.”
“But I want to know.” 
“Don’t make me change my mind. I’ll march over to Umbridge right now and tell her that I saw you that night.” Draco turned around, almost spitting his words out. 
“Sorry. Nevermind, then.” You cowered a bit, not expecting his harsh tone. You looked down at your feet, embarrassed that a simple change in his tone already made you seem weaker. When you looked back up to look at Draco, you could’ve swore that his face softened for a minute. You stared at him turn back around to leave. 
Just as you faced the railings, once again, Draco’s voice echoed across the room. “My mother used to sing that song to me when I was a child.”
“Huh?”
“The song I was humming.” He clarified, head poking out from beyond the steps spiraling down. “My mother used to sing it to me.”
-
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@melancholiaflowers @jjjmaybank @marshxx @truly-insatiable @poisoned-pineapple
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salvejoon · 4 years ago
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Life is Beautifully Ugly (At Times) - pjm | 01
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⇒ Warnings for this chapter: Death of minor characters, mentions of a car accident, losing a loved one, a child being orphaned, cursing, Jimin being an ass, reader being a bitch.
⇒ A/N: Hey lovelies! I’m back-ish! I’ve been working on this project for months now and I’ve finally found my muse again and so I got to writing more and more chapters for this. Please enjoy the first chapter of hopefully my first series (but not my last). xoxo
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“Imo!” Your head shot up at the happy squeal and you bent down to one knee, opening your arms, almost toppling over at the force your niece ran into you.
“Oof!” Your arms closed around her and she buried her nose in your hair as her arms went around your neck, “Hello my pretty little flower.” You drew back and nuzzled her nose with yours to which she frowned. 
“I’ve grown 1 inch so I’m not little anymore.” 
“You’ll always be my pretty little flower, Hyejin. No matter how tall you get.” You picked her up as you stood, groaning briefly as you adjusted her on your hip, “But you are getting a little bit heavy.”
Hyejin giggled, “Appa also says I’m getting heavy. Says his back hurts.” 
“That’s because your Appa is getting old.” 
A hum came from the doorway and you saw Han, your brother-in-law, standing there, looking dapper in a black and white tux, his natural black hair swept back from his face, “You’re the one to talk, Y/N. You’re closer to 30 than I am.” 
You rolled your eyes, “No need to remind me, Han.” You said just as your younger sister, Charlotte gently pushed Han out of the doorframe, looking a little bit frantic, “Missing something?” You asked her as she walked over to the vanity, opening several drawers.
“My watch.”
“The one laying right in front of you?” 
Charlotte sighed heavily as her eyes landed upon her watch, “Thanks.” 
“What would you do without me?” You smirked as she walked over to you and took Hyejin from your arms and her daughter protested with a small whine.
“Can’t I go with you, Eomma?” She asked and glanced longingly at you and her father, “I also want to go to the ball and look pretty.” 
Charlotte chuckled and kissed her forehead, “Another time, baby. This is for grown-ups only.” 
“Why is it always only for adults? I want to go too!” She protested loudly, crossing her arms and pouted.
You ruffled her hair, “How about you and I play dress-up tomorrow, hm? How does that sound? I’ve bought new shoes you can try.” You winked at her and Hyejin’s pout slowly vanished. 
“Can I put make-up on you, Imo?” 
“Sure.” 
Charlotte put her down and bent down just as the doorbell rang, gently wiping her daughter’s hair back from her face, “You be good to Mrs. Shin, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”
“Yes, Eomma.” 
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You absentmindedly stared out the window as the limousine drove through one of the high-end districts of Seoul. Closed off ground containing High-Rise buildings towered the streets and in between, they were grand mansions. 
You felt out of place here, in this part of town.
You preferred Han and Charlotte’s apartment in the more affordable part of Seoul. 
“Y/N.”
You hummed at the sound of your sister’s voice.
“Promise me you’ll be nice.” 
You shifted your gaze to her and raised a brow, “When am I not nice?” You asked and shook your head when Charlotte sent you a knowing look, “Oh please. Just because he’s going to be there doesn’t mean I won’t be nice.”
Han snorted, “The last time you saw each other, it ended up in the tabloids.” 
You glared at him and tch’ed, “Your brother called me - me - a prude, and I simply wanted him to teach him some manners.”
“You don’t teach someone manners by threatening them, Y/N.” Came the rational voice of Charlotte. 
This time you snorted and rolled your eyes, “Wow, you two really take his side.” 
“We are not but you two should bury that hatchet, whatever it is. He is actually nice once you get to know him.” 
“He’s a conceited asshole that needs to be beaten down a peg or ten. There is nothing nice about him.”
“Y/N
”
“Yeah, yeah.”
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There was once a time where you would have taken in the beautiful surroundings of the ballroom with all it’s marble and gold, tall doors, and crystal chandeliers and would have felt like a princess. 
But this wasn’t your first rodeo at a gathering such as this nor would it be your last. 
You hated them now. Well, not hated but found them so superficial because all it was was rich people prancing around with their noses in the air while they had a pissing contest of who had the most money, the fastest car, the grandest of mansions, or the youngest wife.
“Smile.” Charlotte noted as she sat down next to you, followed by Han who had finally managed to break free of one of the old ladies' claws, no doubt talking about finances.
You plastered on a fake smile but said smile quickly vanished when you spotted a familiar face approaching the table. 
You tried to hide your scowl as the man came up to the table, dressed in a burgundy-colored suit that cost more than what you earned in a year, his ears adorned with silver dangling earrings with matching diamond rings on his fingers. The last time you had seen him, he’d donned blonde hair but now it was gray and it was swept back neatly, showing off his face. 
And he had a new chick on his arm.
No surprise there.
Park Jimin was one of the biggest fuckboys you knew, if not the biggest. 
He dragged his eyes from his date to you and a knowing smirk spread on his lips when he saw your scowl. No doubt he was already planning various ways to piss you off. 
“Jimin. Nice of you to show up
” Charlotte glanced at her wristwatch, “20 minutes later than we agreed upon but it’s better than an hour like last time.” 
Jimin removed his eyes from you and looked at your sister with an innocent smile, “I apologize, Charlotte. Things dragged out at the board meeting.” The woman on his arm tugged at it, “And may I introduce Jisoo. My date.” 
Han bowed his head and your sister smiled sweetly at her and you
 Well, you ignored them. 
That was until Charlotte jabbed you in the ribs, “Ow! Hi, whatever.” You grumbled, glaring at her before meeting Jisoo’s smiling face and forced your lips upwards. 
“As formal as ever, Y/N.” Jimin drawled before sitting down across from you, his smirk back on his lips, “Where is your date?” 
“I came alone.” You answered stiffly. 
He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, “As usual.” 
Arrogant asshole. 
“At least I’m not fucking my way through the female population of Seoul.” 
Jisoo opened her mouth to object but a tap on the mic shut all of you up and you just aimed a glare at him. He met you with one of his own. The tension rose at the table and you heard your brother-in-law sigh softly. 
“It’s going to be a long evening.” You heard him murmur. 
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The hours dragged on and so far you’d listened to four long speeches, three performances by some musicians you had never heard of, and had Charlotte remind you of your promise ten times.
You found yourself sitting alone at the table, date-less while your sister was out dancing with Han and Jimin had vanished. 
Probably aiming the money-shot between his date’s breasts.
The image of that left a bad taste in your mouth, so you focused on the dancing people on the floor.
You could easily find a willing dance partner. There were loads of young bachelors at such an event like this but they were so boring to you. You didn’t care about numbers, board meetings, or future merges. Charlotte had given up trying to set you up long ago since you scared most of them away. 
You deemed your independence a part of your charm. Charlotte didn’t agree. 
The ironic part was that the only man here, that could keep up with you, was an arrogant dickwad with a stick so far up his ass, he could pick his teeth with it. 
And he was probably fucking his date at the toilet. There you go again with those thoughts. 
“Ugh.” You shuddered and willed the images away as you picked up your wine glass and took a sip. The best thing about these events was the free booze. 
Too bad you weren’t allowed to get hammered because the last time you got shitfaced, you had dragged Jimin by his collar, trying to get him outside so you could ‘rearrange that stick’. The tabloids had a field day with that instance. It hadn’t been the first time you had threatened to kick his ass and you doubted it would be the last. 
Jimin just knew how to push the right buttons. 
“No one has asked you for a dance yet?” 
Your left eye twitched in annoyance, “No. Not yet. Are you offering?” You asked as you looked at Jimin with a raised brow. 
“No. I prefer my dance partners to be more
 graceful. I don’t like getting stepped on.” 
“But I can be graceful, Jimin.” 
“Oh? When?” He asked as he sat down in the chair and crossed his legs. 
“When I step on your throat, choking the life out of you.” 
“Kinky, Y/N. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 
You scoffed and leaned back in your chair, “Where’s your date? Recovering from having your filthy hands on her body?”
“And if she is?” 
“Then tell her I know a therapist.” 
Jimin threw you a glare, one you returned with an unimpressed, bored look, “She’s in the restroom.” 
“Trying to wash away her sins, no doubt.”
“Are you jealous, Y/N? You seem oddly fixated on my sexual interactions.” 
You picked up your wine glass and shrugged, “For me to be jealous, Jimin, it would require I had some sort of feelings for you, which I do not other than absolute disgust.” You downed the rest of the wine that was in the glass, deciding you were done entertaining him, “And I’d undoubtedly get more satisfaction by watching old men dance with their young wives than having sex with you.” With that you rose from the table. You flicked a strand of hair over your shoulder as you put your bag on the table, “Now be a good boy and look after my belongings.” 
“Where are you going?” He asked stiffly. 
“To dance, of course. Might step on a toe or two but what the hell.” 
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Your escape from the table hadn’t gone as smoothly as you had hoped because Charlotte and Han were nowhere to be found, the men that had approached you were either 60 and above and the bartender hadn’t seemed particularly keen on entertaining you with small talk. So you opted to venture outside instead. 
The air was chilly and you shivered a little, rubbing your arms to regain some heat as you looked up. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled while the moon showered the ground in it’s white glow. It was a pretty evening, really. You had the sudden urge to just lay down on the grass and stargaze. 
You felt something heavy being draped over your shoulders and you turned around to see a pair of dimples and a bright smile. 
You knew those dimples.
And that smile.
Those kind, warm, honeyed eyes. 
Your heart sped up. 
Before you could open your mouth to greet him, Namjoon booped your nose, “Thought I saw you dash outside. Are you avoiding me?” 
You shoved his shoulder, albeit gently with a smile on your lips, “Duh. Of course, I am avoiding you.” 
He frowned, “The sex can’t have been that bad.” He pouted.
You rolled your eyes, “It was terrible. Absolutely terrible.” 
“You really know how to hurt a man's pride, Y/N.” He chuckled and enveloped you in a tight hug, “I’ve missed you.” 
“I’ve missed you too, Joonie. I haven’t seen you in, what, 3 months?” You drew back, “I didn’t know you were attending the fundraiser.”
Namjoon kept his arms around your waist as he sheepishly smiled down at you, “I wasn’t planning on attending since I am so busy lately but when Han told me you’d be here, I had to come.” 
“Aw, my little Joonie bug.” 
He let go of you and you stepped back, “So how is the partnership coming along?” You asked, standing next to him, “Charlotte told me you’ve been super duper uber busy.” 
He sighed, “I have been so fucking busy and work has just been taking up all of my time and I am so tired of it.”
“Oh, Joonie.”
“But I can now call myself partner and a board member of Kim & Co Lawyers.” 
You squealed, your arms finding purchase around his neck as you jumped up and down of excitement, “OH MY GOD! CONGRATULATIONS!” 
Big hand engulfed your face and squished, “Thank you but calm down, sprout. No reason to entertain the whole neighborhood.”
“Buf u gos te parfership.”
“Yes.”
“lso yo ar ruinf te makuf.”
“I am fully aware of that, sprout.” 
“Le gof.”
He chuckled and let go of your face, placing his hands on your shoulders instead, “Thank you. But how are you? Charlotte told me you’d be expanding the brand soon.”
You grinned and nodded, “Yes! I am so excited but at the same time also a little sad. That shop has been my bread and butter for 4 years now but it was about time I listened to my sister and expanded
 With the help of some investors, of course.” 
“Well, I am looking forward to seeing you take over the world, Y/N.” 
You snorted and grabbed his hand, “Pfft, I think I’ll just deal with getting my designs on the interwebz first and see how that goes. Now let’s go get some wine and talk shit about other people.” 
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“There you are!” You and Namjoon halted your conversation as Charlotte appeared between you, “We’ve been looking for you.”
You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sis.”
She glared but there was a teasing glint in her eyes, “Joonie has a habit of stealing your time.” 
“I’m like the most important man in her life, what did you expect?” Namjoon rolled his eyes as Charlotte bumped his shoulder, “Not in the way you want, woman.” 
Your sister huffed and shook her head, “What do I have to pay you to marry Y/N? Seriously, you’re like the only guy that can keep up with her shit and not want to run away.”
“Who says I don’t want to run away?” 
You slapped his arm that was draped over the bar counter, “Fuck you. You love me.” 
“I do but not enough to get my dick wet.” 
“That monster you call a dick wouldn’t fit anyway.” 
“Thank you, I guess, for calling it a monster, Y/N, but I would have made it fit. Preparation is key.” 
“That’s what I keep saying. Foreplay is an important part of-”
“Alright, I clearly interrupted something here so I would just like to give you the heads up and Han and I are going home.” Charlotte interrupted you and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, “He’s drunk and I was getting tired anyway.” 
“Sure. I’ll see you back home.” You said, wiping at your cheek before turning it towards Namjoon, “Do I have a stain?”
He shook his head before accepting a peck on his cheek from Charlotte, “Nope. Looking smooth as always.” 
“You make sure she gets home safely, Joonie.”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
“And not too late, okay?”
“Bye Charlotte! Love you!” You called as she wandered off, dragging a swaying Han with her towards the entrance.
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Jimin sat at the table, Jisoo at his side. He had tuned most of her blabbering out, finding the topic ‘what shoes to wear to her friend’s wedding’ quite boring. Instead, his eyes were trained on the dance floor where not many people were dancing. 
More specifically you and Namjoon that was talking more than dancing and he saw you smile, laughing at how your dance partner seemed to trip over his own feet. 
He scoffed. 
“Are you listening to what I’m saying, baby?”
“Of course, Jisoo. The red pair of shoes sounds good.” 
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, eyes narrowing at the number, he swiped his thumb across the screen.
“Yes?” He said. 
“Jimin, hey, it’s Seokjin.” 
“I could see on the caller-id.”
There was a brief pause and Jimin held up a hand to silence Jisoo when she yanked at his arm. Then there was a beeping sound and the sound of doors being banged open, “Jin, what’s going on?”
“Sorry about that
 I don’t know how to say this but you need to come to the hospital.”
“Why?” 
“It’s your brother. Jimin, you need to come and quick.” 
His throat felt as dry as sandpaper as he stood up and hung up, eyes darting to your dancing and laughing form on the dancefloor. 
“Jimin, baby, where are you going?” Jisoo asked him as he took a step, her hands clinging onto his wrist. 
“S-Sorry, I have somewhere I need to be.” He answered, his voice shaky, “I’ll arrange for someone to take you home.” 
“Wait!” She called out as he ran towards you.
You were laughing so hard at how Namjoon had just tripped over his own two feet again when Jimin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist, “What the fuck?” 
“Fun time is over.” Jimin said and tugged you with him as he headed towards the exit.
You yanked your wrist free, Namjoon appearing at your side, “Um no, it isn’t. What’s with you?” You asked him. 
Jimin looked at you and Namjoon, “Y/N.” You raised a brow at the tone of his voice
 He sounded scared, “We have to go now.” 
“Did something happen?” You immediately grew worried because Jimin never sounded scared. 
“Seokjin just called me and
 Something happened with Han and Charlotte.” 
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You had never felt such fear. 
The ride to the hospital was tense and quiet. Jimin drove like a maniac through the streets of Seoul while Namjoon had tagged along as support. The two men sat in the front of the car, exchanging no words whatsoever, leaving you to your thoughts running rampant. 
Then you arrived at the hospital and everything happened so quickly.
A drunk driver collided with their limousine.
Their driver was killed on impact. 
Charlotte and Han were in critical condition.
You had no idea how much time had passed from when you had arrived to when you were sitting on the chair outside the ward, Jimin prancing back and forth like a caged animal.
Then the doctor appeared from the ward and Namjoon was quick to leave your side, going to talk to him.
You stood up, watching as they talked and you felt Jimin’s presence next to you.
Time seemed to slow down when your eyes locked with Namjoon’s, the sadness in his eyes conveying the message you had yet to receive but you knew. 
They were gone. 
You could feel someone wrap their arms around you as you tumbled to the floor, your own piercing wail deaf to your ears as you felt your chest implode on itself with heartbreak. 
Jimin struggled to keep you upright as you collapsed, your cries so very loud in his ears but it didn’t matter. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to hear why you had broken down. It was clear as day by the way Namjoon looked. 
His brother was gone. Your sister was gone. Both of them were gone. 
You cried out her name and Jimin tightened his hold on you when you tried to crawl away from him. 
He might not like you and you may not like him but he knew that you should not go through this pain alone. So when you clutched his shirt so tightly in your balled fists, your cries finally lowering to whimpering and you buried your head in his chest, Jimin held you tight.
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The feeling of time was lost on you when you entered Han and Charlotte’s apartment. Your mind was empty and you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating. 
Mrs. Shin appeared as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on a small table. She looked puzzled upon seeing you, and only you, return. 
“Where is
” She trailed off as you grabbed her hand. 
“They’re gone.” Was all you said and her shoulders sagged as she moved her free hand to cover her mouth, “Is she sleeping?”
“She is.” 
You nodded and walked past her, down the hall, towards Hyejin’s room. The door was slightly ajar and you slowly opened it, finding her room dark except for a small lamp in the corner. 
She hated the dark.
Like Charlotte. 
You felt tears stream down your cheeks at the thought of your sister but willed them away. You had to be strong now for Hyejin. 
Nothing else mattered.
Hyejin woke up when her mattress shifted and she turned her head, rubbing one eye, “Eomma?” 
“No, honey. It’s me.” 
She sat up, looking puzzled, “Where’s Eomma? She always comes to kiss me goodnight.” 
You opened your arms and closed them around her tiny frame, “I know.” You placed your head upon hers and took a deep breath, “Listen, sweetie
”
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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago
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Just a question about your mirror verse captain pike. I know its been a while (not really that long) since you last wrote for it. But would you ever consider killing mirror verse reader and doing something along the line of what went on with discovery with mirror universe pike attempting to find and get with normal universe reader?
So what you did was ask a question and what I did was write a story?
Sorry! This was an amazing question and I got really inspired!
I used the same reader as the reader in I Caught One Last Sight - this can be read without that, it just makes a couple of references to it.
Pairing: Christopher Pike x Reader; Mirror!Christopher Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; dubious morals, as we are dealing with the Terran Empire Length: 3.2K
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You knew it wasn’t him immediately, not your Pike -- just in the same way that you knew it wasn’t your Pike when you’d had that transporter mix-up, and that solar storm had stuck you in another universe instead of beaming you down to Nov O-62. It was his eyes. Narrowed, flinty, harsh - fixed on you. It was a look that your Pike had never given you. It was calculating. This man, whoever he was, was trying to think five steps ahead; the wheels in his head were turning so fast there should’ve been steam pouring out of his ears. And then he took two steps closer, hand reaching for the phaser in its holster. He was two seconds too late, though; yours was already out, and it was not set to stun. “What are you doing?” Nhan asked beside you, stunned. 
“That’s not Pike,” You hissed. “Have you lost your mind?” Nhan had started asking before Spock, your Pike, and Number One had burst into the hall behind whoever this other Pike was. And then Nhan had stopped asking. The other Pike had turned his gaze back to you, lips pulling into a thin little smile. “You’re a quick one here, too,” He murmured. You were pretty sure it was supposed to be a compliment, but you didn’t think you wanted compliments from a man that looked at you like you were a puzzle. 
--
“His genetic makeup is basically the same,” Boyce reported to those assembled in the ready room, “He’s certainly human, no one’s gone out of their way to clone you.” “Thank god. We can barely handle one of you occurring in this universe,” You grumbled. Pike shot you an unamused glance over where his mouth was being shielded by his hand. You’d managed to get the other Pike into a holding cell. You’d cuffed the man yourself, and had done your best to ignore the way his eyes had lingered on you the entire time; how his fingers had flexed and skated along the hem of your shirt before you could pull away. “I want him under twenty-four hour surveillance,” Pike ordered, lowering his hand, “And we’ll need to start working out ways to get him back to his...Origin point.” Delicately put. “It’s a wonder that this man has managed to make contact,” Spock commented from the other end of the table, “The chance of encountering an alternate form of yourself from another universe is less than .00186%.” You and Pike must’ve been particularly lucky. “I’ll take first watch with him,” You offered, sitting up. “No,” Pike said sharply. You frowned at him as he added, “Nhan will take first watch. And I have something I need to discuss with you, Commander. Let’s see what we can figure out and get him back as soon as possible. Keep me updated. Dismissed.” The others stood, clearing out and leaving you and Pike behind. “What was that about?” You asked. “I do not want you alone with him.” Your brows rose. “I--...What?” “That seemed fairly straightforward to me,” Pike shrugged. “I was more curious about the reasoning behind the direction than the direction itself.” “...He was watching you...Rather intently.” “Yeah, well. I’m cute.” Pike cut you a look, and you raised a brow. “Come on,” You added, “Nhan can’t watch him the whole time, she’ll have to rest at some point. You’re worrying for nothing.” Pike pushed a sigh out through his nose, lowering his eyes to the table. You leaned in a bit, folding your arms on the table. “Chris,” You said lightly, “That guy has no idea who I am.” You waited for him to call you out on the contrary, but clearly he didn’t hear what the other Pike had said to you in the hall. Instead, Chris argued, “Just because he doesn’t know you doesn’t mean you aren’t anyone to him where he’s from.” “Well if I’m someone good, then we may be able to get answers out of him faster.” “And if you’re someone bad?” “Then he’ll probably keep his mouth shut around me and we won’t have anything to worry about. Besides, he’ll be contained.” Pike didn’t like it; you could see it in his furrowed brow, and the purse of his lips. “I don’t want you alone with him,” He said firmly. “I’ll take shifts with Nhan and we’ll arrange shifts to switch off with the rest of the security team until we work out how to get him home. Satisfied?” You knew that he wasn’t, but he nodded regardless. -- When you entered the brig, Nhan was questioning the other Pike. He was standing before her, seemingly at attention. His expression was riddled with boredom; he wasn’t answering her questions. When he saw you out of her periphery, however, he tipped his head to the side to get a better view of you, tracking your movements. You tried not to let it trip you up, or to change the way you moved, but it was intimidating. “Hey-- I’m speaking,” Nhan snapped. You folded your arms over your chest, staring the man down in turn. He shifted his attention back to Nhan, brow raised. “I was wondering when you’d stop.” That was your Pike’s humor, but with a sharp edge. You had to bite back a smile. His eyes darted to you again. You walked closer to the wall of the brig and leaned back, out of his sight. You caught sight of Nhan’s eye, shaking your head a little. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. -- “Commander Nhan, you’re needed on the Bridge.” Your eyes snapped to Nhan as she was commed. She glanced over at you, then back at where he was. “...Are you going to be alright?” “Fine,” You waved her off, “Don’t worry about it.” Nhan took one more look at the man before she left. The room was quiet for a few moments, and then you heard the steady clunking of footsteps in the brig. You glanced back toward the sound, but refused to move from your spot beside the wall. “... Are you hiding from me?” His voice was soft, but nearer to you than it had been. He was close now - right up against the edge of the brig wall closest to you, he had to be. “What would the point of that be? You know I’m here,” You answered. “And yet you stay tucked away. Why?” Because the way you watch me frightens me. “I see plenty of you in my own universe.” He chuckled, soft, dark, warm - a sound that could wrap you up and drown you. “You see someone like me, perhaps, but you do not see me.” Damnit, you wanted to look. That gaze - you’d been mulling it over for hours - would it be just as intense now? You pushed off of the wall, then, and turned to stand in front of the brig. He seemed to impose and tower over you in a way that your Chris didn’t; he looked down his nose at you, set his shoulders with an air of superiority - and those eyes. Still calculating, but now they seemed just a touch less cold. “...What you said before, about me being ‘clever here, too’ -- what did that mean?” This man’s lips quirked into a small, satisfied smile. “Just what I said. Where I’m from, you
 You were a quick one. Sized up situations quickly, tended to look for your escape routes before you settled into a seat, preferred to hang back and listen to conversations, make your observations rather than simply jump right in.” ‹‹Your heart was pounding. That sounded oddly like how you approached situations here, now — but that was different. That was your job on the Enterprise. You didn’t know this man, you didn’t know who you were to him in another world, another universe.
“I was a quick one?” You repeated, “I take it I’m dead?” His smile faltered and his gaze dropped. You averted your own eyes. “Well, that’ll put you off your morning coffee.” This man huffed, shaking his head. “...What happened to me?” Chalk it up to morbid curiosity. You eyed his hands balling into fists at his sides, and you surmised it was fresh. “Never mind,” You added. He rested one of his hands against the brig walls. “...Who was I?” You asked next. “The Emperor’s daughter. My
” He trailed off. “Yes?” You pressed. Now you had to know. How could it be possible that one of you should end up with Pike in every single world but your own? His eyes lifted back to yours, alight with eagerness. “What should you have liked to be?” He murmured. “I don’t know what you--” “Don’t play coy,” He shook his head, “Maybe that works with him, but it won’t work with me. I know you a little too well for that.” “You don’t know me at all,” You snapped. “There’s that fire I’ve missed,” he murmured, and you took a step back, unable to help the shiver that tripped down your spine. 
“... Tell us where you came from,” You ordered, ignoring the shake in your own voice, “Coordinates, method--” “Anything, on one condition.” “What?” “You return with me.” You didn’t speak; he didn’t wait for you to fill the silence with your questions or answer, just pressed on, “You think it’s some accident that I’ve wound up here?” He shook his head, “No, dear one. I’ve been looking for you. You’re wasted here-- you’re wasted on him. Will he cherish you? Treat you the way you want to be treated?” You’re not sure you’ve taken a breath since he uttered his proposition. “-- You don’t know me,” You manage after a moment, “I’m not-- I look like her, I’m not her--” “And I’m not him. But we’re the closest to what the other wants that we’ll ever get. In my universe, you are revered. I’ll take care of you.” Why was it so goddamn tempting? His eyes lifted to the door behind you, and that was when you registered the sound of approaching footsteps. You turn your head to see Number One, Nhan, and Pike filing in. “Commander,” Pike’s tone, your Pike, was icy. This was directly violating his orders - you alone with this
 This man that had just offered you what could very well be a lie. “Captain,” You answered, tone clipped. You took a step back as Number One and the Captain stepped forward to question the Pike that was in the brig. You retook your place just out of sight. “Any ideas as to how we can get you home?” Pike asked. “I already gave the Commander my terms.” You felt the full weight of everyone’s gaze shifting to you. “...Commander, a word,” Pike ordered. You grimaced, following him out of the room. “His terms?” Chris hissed once you were out of earshot. “Don’t start--” “This was exactly why I didn’t want you around him,” He tacked on before reeling away. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “What were his ‘terms’?” He asked. “... I don’t-- You’re not going to agree to them--” “What were they.” “More importantly, I’m not going to agree to them--” “They’ve got to do with you?” You gave Chris a small nod. “...Humor me.” “You won't find it very funny,” You warned before adding, “He’ll tell us how to get him back if I go with him.” In that moment, you saw Chris, your Chris, shift into that same sharp man that was in the brig inside. “Wait, wait--” You reached out, catching hold of his shoulder as he turned to go back inside, “We can use this-- No not like that,” You added as you saw his face shift to shock, “Just because I go back with him doesn’t mean it has to be a one way trip. He didn’t say I had to go back with him and stay.” Chris’ hand came up to brace himself against the wall, and his shoulders stooped a little bit. “I don’t
 I don’t like the idea of bargaining with this man in the first place, and I do not want to use you as a bargaining chip. We barely got you back from one other universe, I’m not risking it again.” The look he was giving you was heavier than a neutron star. “Come on, we’ll be fine. Long as there are no solar storms in the area.” You managed to get Chris to crack a small smile. “Look, just... Get Number One and Nhan out here. I’ll have to talk to him for a while longer, maybe a couple of days. He seems pretty sharp, if I just drift back in there and agree to go, he’ll know something’s up.” -- 
“Pride and Prejudice, really?” You frown, “That’s my favorite book here...What the hell.” The man behind the glass laughed, and you smiled a little. You’d been talking to him for a few days now. You’d been on a few different shifts, and various people had been called away, or you’d sent them on some fools errand - all part of the plan, and never at the same time or for the same amount of time. You didn’t want him catching onto a pattern. “...Can I ask you something?” You glanced up at him, as if you hadn’t been asking him questions for days now. “Of course, dear one.” He didn’t call you that excessively, but when he did, stars, it sent a warmth right down to your toes. “If
 If you know that it won't be exactly the same with me as it was with-- her, then why bother?” The man -- you couldn’t call him Christopher or Chris, couldn’t call him Pike, couldn’t call him yours, you couldn’t call him anything, really, not comfortably -- considered you for a few moments. “I
 Learned from her... Grew, in ways that I didn’t expect,” He said. “You think you’ll revert without her?” “I wanted to burn the galaxy when I lost her. She wouldn’t have wanted me to do that.” “Did you?” “No.” “... Well, then I don’t think you need anyone.” “And you? Do you not need anyone?” “We’re not talking about me.” “We were, in a way.” You rolled your eyes. “If I come back with you, you’d have to break yourself of that, you know. I’m not her, I’d never be.” “You’ve thought about it?” He was sitting up straighter, and your stomach twisted as you dropped your eyes to your lap. This is part of the ruse, part of the game. But
 But you had thought about it, a little. If all that this man has said were somehow true, if he did love someone like you, if he wanted to give you a life that was fairly more exciting, if not more tumultuous
 But you could never leave your life on the Enterprise, your friends, your family - your Chris. You shook your head a little. “I--” “You have,” He accused softly, “You’ve thought about it.” “Stop it,” You ordered, lifting your eyes back to his. His lips were curling into a smile again, the one that he got when you acted particularly bossy. He liked it when you were bossy, you’d noticed that. “And stop looking at me like that,” You added. “Like what?” “Like I’m her.” His eyes flashed at that; you’d hit the nail on the head. And then he shook his head a little bit and murmured, “I know you’re not.” “You’re sure about that?” “I--” “Wait,” You held your hand up, “If
 If you’re sure that you’re sure
 I’ll go back with you. But only if you swear that you won’t try to make me whatever she was.” “I won’t.” “Promise--” “I swear.” He said it with a fierce surety that made your breath catch in your throat. “...Okay,” You nodded, “Tell me how to get us home.” His lips spread out into a grin that broke you. -- It was the last look on his face that did it - confusion, anger, but ultimately, hurt. Hurt, when he realized that the portal was closing and you were on the other side of it. You didn’t say a word to the others, just turned and returned to your quarters. -- It felt ridiculous to be this torn up over a veritable stranger. For all the time you’d spent in his company, this was what you knew about him: He was a powerful man, he was ruthless, he’d loved someone that looked like you, once, and he looked like someone that you loved. He hadn’t told you much about the Terran Empire, but from what you could ascertain, the man was no saint. You’d stripped out of your command jacket, tossing it onto your bed. You’d poured yourself some Acamarian brandy and had been sipping it for some time when you heard chiming. You sighed. “Door,” You muttered. It ‘swooshed’ open. You didn’t even check to see who it was. “Are you alright?” Chris asked -- your Chris. “Fine.” “...Would you like to try that again with the truth?” “Well would you like to try that again with a question that isn’t stupid?” You heard him sigh. “Don’t do this to yourself,” He pleaded. “It was my idea, serves me right that I feel like shit.” “Do you wish you’d gone with him?” “No.” You were surprised with the speed and frankness that the answer had left you, but it was the truth. You glanced over at Chris. “If I were meant to be in that universe, I would’ve been in it.” “Then what is it?” He leaned against your desk, watching you, “Is it
 Is it the lying to him? Are you worried that he’ll come back?” “...Well I wasn’t until you said that, geez,” You grumbled before draining your glass. You heard Pike huff a quiet laugh. “Even if he does, I won’t let anything happen to you,” He reassured as you crossed back to your desk to refill your glass. You scoffed. “Please-- Who’s the security officer here, me or you?” You asked, setting the glass down. “Hey,” Chris reached out, taking you by the shoulder and turning you toward him, “Come on, I mean it. I won’t let anything happen to you.” You hated that you were tearing up; you hated that you knew that in more than one world, in some estimation, you and Pike were it for one another. Who knew how many more there were out there? You lowered your eyes, blinking back the tears as you mumbled, “I know.” Chris’ communicator beeped on his belt and he pulled it out. “Pike here.” “Captain Pike, you’re needed on the bridge,” Una’s voice crackled through. “Be right there.” He had yet to remove his hand from your shoulder. He glanced down at you as he replaced his communicator. “I’ll be by later-- Don’t drown this in Acamarian brandy, that stuff’ll make you go blind,” He squeezed your shoulder before letting go. “You’re not the boss of me,” You tried to tease, watching him. He turned back to you, brow raised. “Please-- Who’s the Captain here, me or you?” He shot you a wink before leaving. You poured yourself another tumbler full of brandy before sinking into your desk chair. You’d be happy if you never encountered another alternate Pike again. General tag list: @fantasticcopeaglepasta
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