#she was too close to the candle earlier had to move her back to safety XD

[thedeafprophet]

Plosie i know you're all about the liberation of night but please don't put out my candle, im vibin

[teenyweenynightghost]

Fortunate Disaster

Warnings: I haven't written it yet but umm, all of the warnings in the world

Request: Not quite but thank you @victoriadeangeliswifey for your lovely comment on @bimbadiethantorchio 's post.

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: F!Reader X Vic

Y/n had been walking around in the rain for hours on end. She was tired, sore and irritated at her circumstance. Only a few hours ago, she was happily jogging around town, enjoying the warm, pleasant weather. A sudden burst of energy had hit her, and she ended up crossing the small area of trees between her village and the next, exploring all the new terrain. Unfortunately, as soon as she crossed, a thundering storm took over the sky and the forest became a no-go.

To make her situation better, the battery of her phone had run out and she was now wandering on an empty street, seemingly leading nowhere.

Y/n walked for a while longer, until a large building started shaping into the horizon. Perhaps it must have been her delirious state, or her rain-soaked lashes, but she swore a dark presence flew around her, sending shivers all throughout her spine.

“Is anybody there?” She called out, the only answer Y/n received being her own echo and a deafening thunder.

She flinched at the sound and continued walking. She could swear that every step she took, every breath she inhaled and every shiver was closely observed by someone. She just didn’t know who.

Getting closer to the cloudy structure, she realized that it was in fact a house, but one that looked straight out of a horror movie. It was tall and painted in dark colors, small windows here and there, as a large metal fence surrounded it.

Y/n had seen creepy movies before, and she knew better than to approach such mansions, but she was desperate, cold and hungry. It’s not like she had a better choice.

Finally having reached the entrance, she scanned around for a bell only to be surprised by the door opening on it’s own. She was definitely not getting out of here.

With a deep breath, she did her best to calm down her wrecking nerves and stepped forwards.

The garden of the castle was truly mesmerising, roses and well-kept bushes everywhere, as a stone alley extended into a labyrinth of trees. She was sure this place would look like a dream during a more pleasant day, but for now, she only focused on moving forward, and hopefully getting some shelter.

She was standing in front of the large ebony door, regretting all the choices that led her to this moment. She closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation, as she grabbed the golden handle and knocked three times.

The entryway opened almost instantly, and she was met with a short, petite girl, looking at her with the most captivating, bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Victoria! Please! Come in!” She introduced herself while simultaneously ushering Y/n inside.

“I’m Y/n, umm, thanks for-for letting me in.” She tried to let out, still frightened by the whole situation.

“Of course! We couldn’t let such beautiful people walk around in that terrible weather.” She chuckled, sending Y/n a smirk.

Y/n frowned slightly, before she spoke up again. “Oh, you have roommates?”

“Oh of course! Three others. But only Ethan is at home.” She smiled, handing Y/n a towel.

“Oh, um, thank you.” The shivering girl mumbled, wrapping the cloth around herself tightly.

“My pleasure! What kind of hosts would we be If we didn’t take proper care of you.” She chuckled, placing a hand on the small of Y/n’s back and leading her towards the staircase. “Come upstairs, you might want to take a warm bath.”

Well, the blonde wasn’t wrong about that. Y/n nodded and let Victoria lead her to the bathroom. As they walked down a dimly lit hallway, Y/n noticed several paintings of people from different eras, however she couldn’t help but note that it looked like four faces kept reappearing over and over again.

She brushed the thought away when Victoria opened a door for her, softly pushing her forward into the bathroom.

“Oh, thank you so much! I really don’t know what I would have done If I hadn’t ended up here.”

“Oh no problem, darling. I left some clothes on the table and you can light some candles if you wish to.” She encouraged her, closely examining her face as it lit up at her words.

Y/n had always been fascinated by candles, always wanting to smell every single scent on this earth, and see the wax melt onto paper, tables, and any other surfaces.

As If on cue, Y/n heard Victoria snap her fingers and all of them were now lit. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as her shoulders lifted up, her eyes widening.

She turned around quickly only to catch a glimpse of Victoria’s rascally smirk, before she shut the door and Y/n was left trembling alone, in a stranger’s bathroom. Perhaps the thought had crossed her mind before, but she had dismissed it until now. There was unquestionably something inhuman about the girl. She didn’t even dare think about her roommates.

A million thoughts ran through her mind as she did her best to deal with each wave of panic. Taking a deeper breath than any before, she imagined all her worries fade away once she exhaled, and continued to blame her creative mind for the thing she’d seen.

She took off all the wet clothes that clung to her body like a newborn to his mother, and got in the hot water.

The warmth enveloped her body at once, and she let out a pleasured sigh as she relaxed further into the bathtub.

She rested there for half an hour, before a loud growl erupted from her stomach. She was starving, there was no denying it, but she was also desperate to cling to the safety she felt in the bathroom. Eventually, deciding that enough was enough, she pushed herself out and grabbed the towel once more, patting herself dry.

Glancing towards the table, she noticed that the only clothes to her disposition were a pair of fuzzy socks, a deep red silk nightgown and a fluffy sweatshirt. Y/n grabbed the clothes and slowly started dressing herself again.

Faced once again with the door, she beat herself up internally and reluctantly opened it, peeking at the hallway to see if anyone was there. Luckily for her, she was all alone. She trailed her steps back to the staircase and descended it timidly, hearing the voice of two people chattering in the living room.

“Ah, there you are!” Victoria’s husky voice filled the room once she noticed Y/n peaking around the corner. “Come here. This is Ethan, my best friend, and Chili, my dog.” She smiled while holding a fuzzy little puppy, who yapped excitedly at Y/n.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ethan’s modulated voice reached her ears, as he approached her and extended a hand. Y/n brought her own one up to shake his, but instead he brought it to his lips and left a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Y/n smiled, trying to be polite, despite having seen Ethan’s eyes glow red for a split second.

“So, puppy, do you wanna eat something?” Victoria spoke again, an evident smirk on her face as she took in Y/n’s blushed face.

“Yes! I’m starving” The girl chuckled and took a seat across from Victoria, noticing Ethan bringing her a plate of food.

They all stood in relative silence while Y/n ate, too hungry to notice that she was the only one. Having finally finished, she pushed the plate away and wiped her mouth with a napkin, looking up at the people around her.

A wave of embarrassment hit her upon noticing that she was being stared at, practically shrinking into the seat as Victoria got up with a sly grin on her face.

“The rain still hasn’t stopped, and by the looks of it, it could go for hours to come. You wouldn’t mind sleeping here, would you, puppy?” She whispered into her ear, causing Y/n to cross her legs tightly and squeeze her hands in a failed attempt to not shiver.

Victoria only chuckled at her reaction and brushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear, before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You definitely strike me as a smart girl. You must have guessed we’re not quite human, hm?” The blonde breathed into her ear once more, directing her attention to Ethan, who was biting his lip, a long, white fang pressing into the soft skin.

“Vampires…” Y/n shuddered, recoiling into Vic’s embrace.

“That’s a good girl. So, would you like the guest room or mine. Or perhaps Ethan’s”

At that, a loud laugh erupted from the man in front of us. “Right. I have a book to finish. If you need me, shout out my name.” With those final words, he picked up Chili and left the room.

A deafening silence enveloped the lounge, only broken by the rain drops smashing against the windows.

“You must be tired, princess. How about you answer that question I asked earlier.”

Y/n couldn’t believe that her brain’s instinct was to go with her. The realization that she was in a house with actual vampires perhaps did not yet settle in, because every single nerve of her body was seemingly drawn to the attractive girl who sat right behind her.

“Will you kill me?” Y/n croaked, scratching her own palm so hard she could feel an upcoming bruise forming.

“Of course not. I really hate how the media portrays us these days. We only drink the blood of animals. Humans aren’t nearly as nutritious.” She scoffed, turning Y/n around so they could be face to face.

“Drinking human blood is strictly for pleasurable reasons.” She hummed, looking at Y/n’s lips, while she rested her hands on her legs.

Y/n’s brain completely shut off. All she could focus on was the girl’s cold fingertips touching the insides of her thighs, and her lusty gaze falling right onto her lips.

“I’ll tell you one more thing, though. If you don’t answer my question, again, I’ll have to find other methods to make you speak.” She sneered against Y/n’s neck, her teeth slightly grazing the soft skin.

Y/n shuddered and closed her eyes, turning her face away and enveloping herself with her arms. “Yours.” She mumbled, her jaw being met by Victoria’s lips as soon as the words left her mouth.

Y/n gasped loudly and grabbed Vic’s shoulder, holding onto her as she kept sucking on her skin.

“Good girl.” Victoria croaked, pulling away.

She started walking down the hallway, and Y/n had no better idea than to follow the blonde. Her gaze fell upon her golden hair, illuminated by the chandeliers hung on the ceiling. Two large, golden crosses were hanging on her ears and her slim body was covered with a skimpy, black gown, extending all the way to the velvety floors.

Y/n would be lying if she said Victoria didn’t look celestial. She could stare at her for hours on end if given the chance.

The blonde finally stopped and Y/n bumped into her, lost in her own thoughts. A small chuckle escaped Vic and she turned around, pulling Y/n closer to her.

“You weren’t paying attention, were you?” She quizzed the dumbfounded girl.

“Yes I was.” Y/n responded, averting her gaze to the door in front of them.

“Of course you were…” Vic mumbled, amused, and led Y/n into the room.

It was spacious and dimly lit, a large bed occupying the center of the bedroom, and a million dressers on the sides. Right across from the bed was an even larger mirror, decorated with golden ornaments on the edges.

“Right side or left?” The blonde asked her, turning off the lights in the room.

Before Y/n could answer, she was pushed right on the middle of the bed, Vic standing right on top of her.

“I think this is the middle.” Y/n stammered, inhaling a sharp breath.

“That’s not what I was referring to.” Vic whispered against her skin, lowering her head to be right between her breasts.

Oh. Y/n’s mind was already moving with the speed of light, and perhaps at this point it had completely abandoned her. Unfortunately, Vic was waiting for her response and kept hovering over her skin, no matter how long Y/n waited.

“Right.” The girl finally spoke up, and Vic gave her a satisfied wink.

One of the blonde’s hands slipped off the gown Y/n was wearing, while the other softly cupped her breast. Once the cold air of the room hit Y/n’s bare chest, she shivered and pulled Vic down, so she would be laying on top of her.

It was the last push Vic needed before her mouth was on Y/n, circling her tongue around her nipple. With every sigh and whimper coming from the girl below her, Vic would bite softly into the silky skin, kissing the area afterwards.

“Vic- Fuck!” Y/n moaned when she felt the tip of Vic’s fang pressing into her skin, sending delicious shivers throughout her body.

The blonde continued to explore every inch of her body, pressing sloppy kisses to her skin, soft bites and licks wherever she could, while Y/n grew more and more desperate.

“Please!” She moaned out, spreading her legs, while Victoria grabbed them and held them in place.

Finally descending to her center, Victoria thrusted a finger inside the moaning girl and kept repeating her actions while her tongue circled Y/n’s clit.

“You’re so fucking wet, puppy.” The blonde whispered against her, making Y/n whimper at the vibrations, and added another finger.

It didn’t take long for Y/n to come undone, a soft bite to her thighs being the last push she needed. She came loud and forcefully, her whole body trembling with pleasure, while Victoria stared at her, her dark eyes taking in her delicate features.

“Ethan!” Y/n heard Victoria call out, before the man suddenly appeared in the room, his long hair flying around.

“You think you can take a few more rounds, puppy?” Victoria asked Y/n, caressing her cheek.

The girl did nothing but nod eagerly as her whole body was filled with excitement for what was to come. It’s safe to say, wandering into that house was very far from a bad idea.

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Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan

@maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey

[bubblesuga]

Turning Page - Part 1

Summary: Sometimes you find yourself in the right place at the right time and unknowingly, you fall in love. Min Yoongi certainly didn’t expect that when he met eyes with you one fateful night in late July. Nor did he expect to end up naked in your apartment while you drew his body.

w/c: 7,302 genre: struggling producer!yoongi au, new relationship, fluff, smut warnings: oral (m receiving), dom!yoongi, switch!reader, raw sex, spanking, reader has a praise kink, yoongi has a dirty mouth (but lets be honest, what else is new?), slight exhibitionism, jungkook is too nosy for his own good

It’s not often that you find yourself at a 24 hour diner in the middle of the night with an insane amount of papers splayed out in front of you as eat your waffles while answering emails and trying your hardest to copy the manuscripts sent to you but for some god-awful reason it’s happened to you on more than one occasion this week alone. 

The manuscript, which the author unabashedly decided to hand write instead of type in this day and age, was way too long and had way too much detail. Unfortunately for you, your boss only reads typed manuscripts and insisted that you copy every word and type it for her by Monday. You know for a fact that your boss is going to get three chapters into this absolute mess of a story and toss it but you have no choice but to listen to her. 

This is definitely not how you expected being an intern to go yet here you are, wondering and waiting for the day that you can move on and start your own company like you’ve wanted to for practically your entire life. 

“Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” A voice asks, and you glance up to see the waitress, an older woman with a smile that could light up a thousand suns. 

“Yes please,” you smile, holding out your mug to her as she pours directly from the pot, “thank you.” 

“No problem, I always see you working so hard so I figured you could use the energy boost.” she grins, patting your shoulder lightly as she begins to walk away and help the other few tables which also happen to be hosting tired college students and early risers or late sleepers. 

Without even realizing it, another half hour passes by you quickly. Your eyes burn, but you count the remaining pages and try to push through. Quickly though, your ears spot the sound of dishes clanking together and you can’t help but pull your attention in that direction. 

A man with blond hair and dark eyes is cleaning the table in front of you. He adorns an apron around his waist and a white t-shirt with black pants. The busboy wipes down the table, and you admire his side profile as he does so. His features are soft, a rounded nose and down-turned lips held almost in a pout. You have never come across a man so stunningly beautiful, it nearly causes your breath to be caught in your throat. 

You’re staring for so long that the man catches on to your watchful eye, glancing over in your direction with a raised eyebrow. You smile sheepishly, “Sorry.” 

The man smirks, shaking his head before hauling the bin of empty cups and plates towards the kitchen. Your heart sinks for a moment, but you shake the feeling to the best of your ability and try to finish typing. 

A few more moments pass, and you hear someone sitting across from you. You glance up and see the man sat across from you, apron gone and a black jacket now covering his torso. 

“Can I help you?” You question softly, clasping your hands together atop the table. 

He bites his bottom lip, “I feel like I should be asking you the same thing.” 

“Pardon?” 

“You were watching me earlier, just curious what was on your mind was all.” He shrugs, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. 

You swallow, the way his eyes scan you causes your face to flush. Carefully, you stack up your papers and clean the table slightly while you try to think a way to dance around the answer to his question. He waits patiently, which only causes you to panic internally. 

“I was thinking that you would be nice to draw.” you finally settle on, and it’s true. He looks like a work of art, and you’d love to have had him as a model in your art class when you went to college. 

He doesn’t seem to expect that answer, his eyes widening slightly as his head tilts, “So draw me.” 

“Ah,” you immediately wave your hand dismissively, “I haven’t drawn in a couple years and I was never any good at it anyway.” 

He leans forward, mirroring your position from earlier, “But if that was your first thought then surely you still have an interest in it.” The smooth cadence of his tone intimidates you to no end, yet it entices you and pulls you in even more. How can a stranger hold so much power over you?

“I’ll tell you what,” you say after a moment, suddenly gaining a brush of confidence when you see a twinkle in his eye, “you come to my apartment tomorrow night and I’ll draw you.” 

“That sounds like a trap to murder me.” He remarks, a gummy grin stretching across his face and you have to hold back a small ‘awe’, your chest twisting at the sight. 

“You want to get drawn or not?” you bite back, just as teasingly. 

He shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his pink lips, “Give me your phone.” 

You raise an eyebrow, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. You unlock it for him and he takes it immediately, keeping the screen just far enough away from you that you can’t see what he’s doing. Soon enough, he stands abruptly and sets your phone down onto the table.

He smirks, “Text me the address, I’ll be there.” 

The stranger wanders down the isle and towards the front door, and you watch in awe at his broad shoulders and shapely figure. Something about the way he carried himself made your mouth water. 

Breaking out of your trance, you quickly unlock your phone and and see a newly added contact. At the top of the screen is a simple ‘Yoongi ;)’ titling the contact. 

You blush, gnawing your bottom lip gently as he passes by the window and sends a wink your way.

~*~*~

He’s going to be here any moment. He’s going to walk through your door with his stupid fucking smirk and attractive eyes and he’s going to be in your living room, posing for a while so you can draw him. 

And you’re freaking out. 

After he left you immediately sent him your address, and since then the two of you have been talking non stop. It was mostly about small things, jobs, favorite foods and favorite colors... Although it may have only been a day, you feel like you know him pretty well. He’s funny and charismatic and oh so charming, no wonder you were so drawn in to his beauty because he’s gorgeous from the inside out. 

You haphazardly through your jackets and shoes into the closet by the front door, only recently becoming aware of how much clothes you leave strewn throughout your home. 

Just as you light a cinnamon scented candle in the center of the room, your doorbell rings. 

You rush over to the door and glance in the mirror to fluff your hair and wipe away any runny make up. Exhaling a deep breath, you open the door and greet Yoongi with a smile. 

“Hello.” you say simply, opening the door wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. He’s dressed in a black button up and tight fitting black jeans, a stark contrast to his work attire. He carries with him a back pack and a bottle of whiskey. 

He notices the way you eye the bottle, and he flushes slightly, “I figured it could help with your nerves. A- and mine, because I’m a little nervous as well.” 

“Nervous?” you trudge into your living room with Yoongi following closely behind, “why are you nervous?” 

“Well, I’m not exactly sure if you expected this to be a nude drawing or not so I wore nice clothes but I’m also willing to take them off.” He scratches the bottom of his chin, watching as you set up the easel. 

You pause your movements, eyes widening, “N- nude?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting open the bottle of whiskey, “isn’t that what you do in those fancy art classes? Draw nude people?” 

“I- I mean, we did,” you stutter, your throat going dry, “but they were always women because I went to an all female college.” 

“Ah, so you could use the practice,” he grins confidently, but it drops suddenly, “unless you’re uncomfortable with that. Then, fully clothed is fine with me.” 

The thought of being able to see the gorgeous man nude excited you more than you’d like to admit, and seeing as you two were in the safety and comfort of your own home, you had no problem with him doing it so long as he wanted to, and by the way his fingers are itching to undo the first button of his shirt, you figure he is. 

“Go ahead. You’re right, I can use the practice.” 

Yoongi smiles and with trembling fingers he begins to take his clothes off. As he does so, you focus on setting up the rest of your supplies. The charcoal set sits idly on the table beside you and you finally sit down with a sigh. 

As you turn your eyes back to Yoongi, you see that he is splayed across your couch with the bottle in hand. 

Holy fuck, his body is just as gorgeous as his face. He’s lean, but you can tell he definitely works out his arms and his legs are long, a pinkish tint holds itself to his skin and you’re unsure if he’s being shy or if the alcohol has already taken affect on him. Eventually you let your eyes land on his hips, his pelvis presenting itself neatly between his legs. It takes everything in you not to drop what you’re doing and let him fuck you into oblivion. 

“(Y/N)?” you hear, and you’re brought back to the current situation. Yoongi’s face holds a knowing smirk, and he leans forward to hand you the bottle of whiskey. 

You take it gratefully, your heart thudding harshly in your chest as you take a sip. 

“Is this position okay?” he questions, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the other one. His right arm rests extended on the back of the couch while his left hand plays dangerously close to his pelvis. 

“Y- yes.” you breathe, picking up your pencil and beginning the sketch. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get the basic sketch down, your love for drawing coming back in droves as Yoongi sits silently, watching your face as you continue to sketch across the paper. He smiles, your nose crinkling before you erase a line or your tongue poking out as your concentrating on a specific area. 

After a little bit of silence, you speak up, “Do you want me to draw, uhm,” you pause your sentence and gesture towards his hips, to which he responds with a little laugh. 

“My cock?” 

His use of the word shocks you a little bit, but you silently remind yourself that you are a grown woman and are completely capable of listening to a man talk about his anatomy, even when you’re immensely attracted to him and have to continually swallow the drool that threatens to fall from your mouth. 

“Yeah, your- your cock.” you nearly whisper, noticing the way his cock twitches slightly at your voice. 

Okay, he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as I am. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shifting a few inches, “I want you to draw my cock.” 

You nod, turning back to your drawing and beginning the last details. 

Yoongi doesn’t take his attention away from your face, gauging your reaction to his body. He likes the way you’re so attentive, and it’s taking everything in him not to harden, though he’s unsure how much longer he can hold off. 

His mind reels with the possibility of you riding him right on this couch. After spotting you at the restaurant he knew that he wanted you. It’s been far too long since he’s had sex, and his pickiness has become more and more evident, especially to his roommates. However, the moment he saw you, he could nearly imagine the way you would feel around him and when he saw you staring he knew that he was in the clear to come over and talk to you. 

This definitely wasn’t how he expected it to turn out but he has no complaints. 

“I’m almost done,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration, “you can move now. All I have to do is shade a little.” 

Yoongi lets out a small breath, his fingers dancing across his hip bone as he lays comfortably on his back, “Do you need me to get dressed now?” 

You glance up, your face mostly hidden by the sketch pad, “If you would like to.” 

Slight disappointment hits Yoongi as he realizes that he’s not going to be able to touch you today. He sits up and reaches for his boxers, but you stop him. 

“Or you could give me a minute and I’ll undress too.” you say casually, shrugging as you pick up a black pen and sign the bottom of the drawing.

Yoongi’s jaw drops, and there’s no stopping it now. He instantly feels blood rush to his cock and watches intently while you spin the easel around and show him your work of art. 

Across the page, Yoongi sees himself displayed and detail lining every area of the sketch. He notices the way his eyes twinkle even in the drawing and if there were ever a time to think of himself as attractive, it would be now that he’s been drawn by you. 

“Do you like it?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi grins, “I love it.” 

“Good,” you whisper, and you stand up. You take a careful step over to him, and Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes away from you. As you’re about to slip your shirt over your head, he stops you. 

“Let me, please.” he begs gently, and you nod. He stands up quickly and hooks his fingers around the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms and allow him to slip the material over your head. His movements are slow, tantalizing and teasing you but also drawing you into him. 

He places his hand against your side, drawing small circles before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

It lasts no more than a few seconds, but you instantly miss the contact. He smiles, his nose crinkling as he does so and your heart can be heard from inside your chest, singing as he looks you in the eyes. He unhooks your bra, tossing it to the side and suddenly his lips are back on yours. 

It’s much more feverish than before, the taste of the whiskey and his strawberry flavored lip balm mix together on your tongue. The combination is harmonious, and he tastes exactly like you thought he would. 

Suddenly, he grips your shorts and pants, slipping them down your legs and softly commanding you to step out of them. You steady yourself on his shoulders and do as he says, your legs trembling with anticipation. 

“Last chance to back out of this if you don’t want it.” Yoongi says, his hands cupping your jaw and using his thumb to swipe gently at your cheek. You smile, “I want this.” 

He nods, “On your knees.” 

You instantly listen, dropping to your knees in front of him and licking your lips hungrily at now being eye level with Yoongi’s now hard cock. He smirks, “You can touch.” 

You nod hesitantly, then reach forward and pump him up and down a few times. Instantly, Yoongi’s head falls backward and a moan falls from his lips, gloriously loud and deep. 

The sound sends tingles straight to your heat, and you tentatively stick your tongue out to lick the tip of his member. His hips flex and you open your mouth automatically to accept him into your mouth. He goes a little further than expected and you gag as you feel him hit the back of your throat. 

“’M sorry,” he moans, “fuck your throat feels so good.” 

He looked heavenly, sweat begins to line his forehead as you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, paying special attention to the pulsating vein. 

His hands gather your hair up in his hands, “There we go, wanna see your pretty face as you suck my cock.” 

Fuck. 

You take him as deep into your mouth as you possibly can and hold him there, moaning at his dirty mouth and feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. 

“Good girl,” he feels your hands begin to roam his torso, his muscles flexing beneath his fingertips, “gonna cum.” 

With that, you pop off of him and see his eyes fall to you incredulously. “I was gonna-” 

“I know,” you grin, “but wouldn’t it feel better inside of me?” 

“You are so fucking hot.” he says, pulling you up to his level and slamming his lips to yours. You tug him down as you fall onto the couch, his cock brushing ever-so-lightly between your legs and causing both of you to gasp. 

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to line himself up at your entrance, your legs wrapped carefully around his waist and guiding him in slowly. Yoongi watches the way your eyes roll backwards as he bottoms out, a moan falling from his lips as he steadies himself.

He had never felt as much pleasure than in this moment. 

The eroticism of the entire situation made everything feel more sensual. Despite barely knowing him, you felt a connection to him stronger than anyone ever before. The way his cock seems to fit perfectly within you, stroking and massaging your velvety walls, immediately has you reeling beneath him. 

“I’m not gonna last very long,” Yoongi starts, his arms shaking as he holds himself above you, “what can I do to help you out?” 

“That’s okay, just fuck me.” You gasp.

You feel him reach a point inside you that sends waves through your body, your back arching off the couch. Yoongi catches the way your breathing has grown ragged, and reaches his hand between the two of you. 

His thumb manages to find your clit, collecting your wetness and rubbing over it gently. His thrusts stay slow and steady, but even so you’re unable to hold back. As your orgasm approaches, you bring Yoongi down to your mouth and feel the way he nibbles at your bottom lip. Suddenly, he speeds his thrusts up and his thumb swipes fast and sloppy circles across your clit. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, a mewl of content leaving your mouth as Yoongi soon follows after, strings of hot cum coating your walls and adding to the sensitivity of your heat. 

He collapses on top of you, his lips peppering kisses across your exposed chest while your hand caresses his hair. 

“I would have been able to last longer if you weren’t so fucking good at giving head.” Yoongi nearly whines, his chest heaving while he attempts to catch his breath. 

“It’s okay,” you smile, pushing his hair back and exposing his forehead, “we both got there in the end.” 

Yoongi shrugs, making no effort to move off of you as he buries himself in your chest, “If you hadn’t, I would have no problem making you cum on my tongue.” His words are slightly muffled by your breasts which only causes you to giggle. 

“Hm, I’m open to experiencing that on another day,” his lips turn up against your skin at your words, “but can I give you some pointers?” 

Yoongi’s head pops up, his eyes looking at you incredulously, “you just said that we both got there in the end, what more do I need to do?” 

“Be louder,” you whisper, his tone teasing, “I like when a man is vocal.” 

His eyes glare jokingly, “Okay, you’re on. I’ll be as loud as you want.” 

You giggle, pressing a light kiss to his nose and watching the way his face scrunch up at the contact. 

His chin rests on you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “I like you a lot.” 

“Are you basing this solely off of the fact that I made you cum?” 

“That plays a part in it,” he chuckles, “but I want to see you again for sure. You seem cool, and I’d really like to take you out to dinner some time.” 

“Ah,” you click your tongue, “we did it backwards.” 

Yoongi laughs, a melodic sound that instantly makes your heart speed up. 

The two of you lay there for a little bit, your hand stroking his hair as you talk about the most mundane tasks. He tells you a little bit about his job, how his friend owns the diner the two of you met at and Yoongi likes to help out every once in a while for some extra cash. 

His real passion lies in music, which is why he was so hellbent to see you make art again. He loves encouraging people to create, to take charge and express themselves in the purest forms. 

After what seems like hours, Yoongi hears his phone ding. With a groan of disapproval, he climbs off of you and reaches into his jeans for his phone. 

You situate yourself on your side, watching the way Yoongi runs a hand through his messy hair and checks his phone. 

“Seokjin wants me to come serve tonight,” he says with a sigh, “I’ll text you after I get off, yeah?” 

You nod, “I need to finish up some work anyway.”

Silently, Yoongi begins to dress himself for the first time since he entered your apartment. You pout visibly as he slips his boxers back on, standing up and following suit by dressing yourself as well. 

As soon as you’re both dressed, you carefully tear Yoongi’s drawing out of the sketch pad and reach out to hand it to him.

“You’re giving it to me?” He questions, taking it with a raised eyebrow. 

You nod, “I don’t feel right in keeping it.” 

He shakes his head, “You should keep it for a rainy day.” 

Your eyes turn to slits while you inspect the drawing. You quietly slip it back into the sketchbook while Yoongi lets out another laugh. 

You lead him back to the front door, your arms crossed over your chest. Different from previous hook ups, you didn’t feel dirty after everything that you did. Instead, you felt comforted by the fact that he didn’t just leave as soon as he finished. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to take care of you and that wasn’t something you came across often. 

As he shuts the door behind him, you can’t help but touch your lips while you remember the feeling of his. 

~*~*~

“Hey Seokjin,” Yoongi greets as he enters the diner through the back door. 

Seokjin flips some sauteed vegetables in a pan and glances over at his younger friend, “Hey Yoon-” he pauses, setting down the pan, “you got laid didn’t you?” 

Yoongi throws his head back, muttering a small ‘damn it’ knowing that he’s going to get grilled until Seokjin is happy with the amount of details he’s received. 

“Yeah I did.” he sighs. 

“Hm, well you don’t seem too happy about it. Was she awful or something?” 

Yoongi whips his head towards Seokjin, “What? No, god no. She was fantastic.” 

“Then why the long face?” 

“Because I had to leave her to come help you.” Yoongi shrugs, chuckling when he feels Seokjin shove him lightly. 

Shaking his head, Seokjin plates up the food while he talks to Yoongi, “Was it the cute editor you were talking about last night?” 

Yoongi feels a twinge of jealousy hit his chest when he hears Seokjin saw you too, but it’s quickly replaced with triumph once he realizes that he got to you first. 

“She’s an intern, not an editor quite yet, but yeah that’s her.” 

“Good man,” he praises, “does that mean you’re back on your game?” 

Yoongi scoffs, “Just because I fuck one girl doesn’t mean I’m immediately going to try and fuck every girl I’m attracted to again.” 

Sure, Yoongi admits he went through a phase of... being well known. Especially in college, Yoongi was known to be a man of many special talents. After a while of random hook ups and making girls scream his name, he lost interest. He assumed it was because he got bored of it, but now he’s realizing that he was much more interested in having a relationship. Ever since he realized that, he had been waiting for someone to fall into his lap. 

For some reason, the moment he saw you he felt some indescribable feeling that drew him to you. Like all that waiting had finally paid off and he needed to talk to the girl with laser focus and a cute smile. 

“Oh, so you like this girl?” Seokjin says, glancing at the screen as another order comes in. 

“Yeah, a lot. She’s an artist.” He grins, calling back from the locker room connected to the kitchen. 

“Awe, did she draw you a picture?” Seokjin coos, a loud laugh following his teasing words. 

Yoongi’s cheeks blush as he suddenly flashes back to the events of today, “Yeah, you could say that.” 

Seokjin glances into the locker room, “I’ll question further later, for now you need to go to section A and help out Hwasa because she is drowning in tickets.” 

“Yes sir!” Yoongi mocks a salute, walking out to the dining area. 

~*~*~

From: Yoongi (received 16:34)

Be ready in 20.  Dress comfortably.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your phone, rushing upward from your position on your couch with a bag of chips and blankets surrounding you. 

You glance your at your reflection in passing and practically run to the bathroom to comb your hair. 

It’s only been two weeks since the two of you met. Your comforted by the fact that your phone always has a good morning text and a good night text from Yoongi. The two of you have yet to have a dry conversation and even if Yoongi is stuck at work or working on one of his secret projects, he makes sure to send a text that he’ll respond as soon as he has the chance. 

Previously you had never had someone so attentive, especially even in just the talking stages. At one point he called you, his voice rough and laced with sleep but the entire time he seemed lively and excited to talk to you. Your heart swelled with adoration the entire time and you’re safe in thinking that Yoongi feels the same. 

Because you haven’t seen Yoongi since the day you drew him, you find yourself regularly looking at the drawing. 

For the first time in what seems like years, you felt proud of something you had created. A constant rut that collapsed in on you like a black hole, drowning you in a state of constant despair, disappeared in half a day. Since then, you’re brain is reeling with creative thought and you couldn’t wait to show Yoongi what you’ve been drawing in your free time. He encourages you in a way that makes you feel like you can be whatever you want to be. 

One thing you were most proud of was your self-portrait. Your legs laid spread in front of a mirror for hours while you tried to perfect a drawing for Yoongi, to give back since he allowed you to keep his. 

“Why do all my cute bras disappear when I need them most?” you whine outwardly, your phone dinging again. 

From Yoongi (received 16:48) 

Oops, I’m early. 

You smile. 

To Yoongi (sent 16:49) 

You’re lucky you’re cute Be out soon

Quickly, you slip on a simple blue laced bra and t-shirt with a red skirt. Hoping that you were still cute in your comfortable clothes, you let out a nervous breath and head to the door. You grab your sketch book before you lock your door, Yoongi’s car parked at the end of the breezeway. You spot him before he spots you, a black beanie adorned on his head with his gorgeous blond hair peaking out beneath. 

You open his door and Yoongi immediately puts his phone away, “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You greet, slipping your sketchbook into the back seat. Yoongi leans over the center console and holds your face in his hand, and he kisses you. 

It’s short and sweet, not as feverish as the first one you shared but it made you realize how quickly you had fallen victim to missing his kiss. 

“I have wanted to do that for weeks now.” He states as if he read your mind, his eyes closed in bliss. 

“Why’d it take you so long then?” You tease, kissing him again. 

Yoongi smirks, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” 

“Does that mean you’re fonder of me?” 

He watches you pull the seat belt over your torso before he responds, “Definitely, I was thinking about you last night before I went to bed.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, a hand moving over to rest on your knee while he backs out of the parking spot, “you’re very talented with your tongue, even in my dreams.” 

You don’t respond, instead you look down at his hand on your knee with a blush.

The drive consists of soft music playing of the speakers of Yoongi’s 2003 Kia. A choice of car you wouldn’t expect him to drive but it oddly fits his personality. It’s quiet and gets him just where he needs to be, a simple thing that Yoongi tells you he takes pride in. 

It isn’t a long drive, but you take the time to admire the way Yoongi looks as he drives. The windows are rolled down and soft summer air breezes throughout the car while you drive across the countryside. The evening sun shines across Yoongi’s face, those soft facial features that drew you in still prominent, his nose curling upward while he laughs at a joke you told. 

“Alright,” he says after about 15 minutes, “we’re here.” 

Yoongi parks near a beach, where you spot a group of people around a fire. You tilt your head, “Are we meeting your friends?” 

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay. It’s just a small get together to celebrate a friend’s promotion.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck and lets out a nervous chuckle. 

You survey the crowd, cases of soju surrounding them while they laugh among each other. One of them seems to spot the car, waving at the two of you enthusiastically. 

Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, “Sure, I’d love to meet your friends.” 

Yoongi rushes to the other side of the car to open your door for you, wrapping his arm comfortingly around your shoulder while he leads you to the group. 

A log was left empty that had just enough room for the two of you. As you approach, Yoongi calls out, “Shut up everybody! This is (Y/N), be nice to her. I like her a lot,” instantly everyone quiets down, and Yoongi points to the tallest first man, “That’s Namjoon, Seokjin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin.” 

“Hyung, why’d you say my name last?” Jimin pouts, his voice already slightly slurred. You giggle, following Yoongi to the log. 

Namjoon reaches over, sticking his hand out, “It’s nice to meet the girl that Yoongi’s mentioned.” 

“Mentioned?” Jungkook scoffs, “He doesn’t shut up about you. You’re all he ever talks about and it takes a lot to get this man to stop talking about music.” 

Yoongi leans over and smacks his friend on the arm, his cheeks turning red at his admission. 

You giggle, “If it’s any consolation, I talk about Yoongi all the time too.” 

“Ah great, they’re both crazy about each other.” Seokjin jokes, a laugh unlike you had ever heard falling from his lips. His laugh causes you to laugh, and you quickly cover your mouth once you realize what you did. 

“Yah! She’s already making fun of my laugh!” Seokjin remarks, his bottom lip jutting outward cutely while Jimin shakes his head. 

“Take this and shut up.” Jimin reaches a drink out to Seokjin, who laughs and sends a wink your way to ease your mind. 

The night continues on gleefully, exchanging stories among each other and getting to know Yoongi’s friends - and Yoongi - more and more. 

At one point you could tell that Yoongi’s friends were grilling you in an attempt to see if you were a bad person. They were quite bad at it, though, seeing as Jungkook asked if you had ever killed a man and Taehyung was hellbent on trying to get you to say you liked country music. Though, you did admit that Carrie Underwood had a few good songs. Taehyung took this as a win and threw his hands up in victory while Namjoon told him to settle down. 

Now that you were more than a few drinks in, you listened intently to every story that the boys were telling. 

"Just wait until you hear about Yoongi’s parenting diary for Holly.” Hoseok spills, laughing so hard that he leans into Jimin who sits beside him. Jimin eyes disappear behind his smile, and everyone begins to chuckle. 

“No way!” you gape, turning to look at Yoongi who holds a beer tightly in his left and draws circles in your back with his right, “Min Yoongi, you never told me you were such a softy.” 

“I’m not a softy, I’m mean and scary,” Yoongi retaliates loudly, then he leans closer to your ear and whispers, “and I bite.” 

A chill runs down your spine and you immediately turn away, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to conceal your chill. Yoongi chuckles low enough for you to hear, his fingertips reaching beneath the base of your shirt and massaging gently. You didn’t realize how rough his fingertips were, callouses from hours of guitar playing evident on his hands. 

“Alright, children. I think it’s time for us to head out.” Yoongi says suddenly, interrupting a conversation between Hoseok and Namjoon. 

He stands and pulls you up with him. You smile and wave, “It was nice meeting you all.” 

“It was nice meeting you too,” Namjoon waves back to you, “excited to have you back around.” 

As you say goodbye to the rest and walk away, you hear a patter of footsteps walking behind the two of you. “Hyung! Can I get a ride?” 

Jungkook stumbles towards the two of you, and Yoongi glances at you in question. You shrug, “I don’t mind, it’s your car.” 

Yoongi waves Jungkook over, the three of you walking towards Yoongi’s small car. Yoongi opens the door for you, bowing gently and humming while he walks over to the drivers side. In the few short seconds that you and Jungkook were alone in the car, Jungkook leans forward and rests his head on the back of Yoongi’s seat. 

“I haven’t seen Yoongi this happy in a while,” he pats your shoulder, “thank you.” 

You don’t get the opportunity to respond as Yoongi opens the car door and hops in. You swallow, smiling and biting your lip. Your chest swells with the thought that Yoongi is just as affected by you as you are by him. 

The drive is quite, but suddenly Jungkook speaks up. 

“Is this yours, (Y/N)?”

You turn your head back and instantly your eyes widen, Jungkook glancing through your sketchpad. You spot the edge of your Yoongi drawing sticking out, Yoongi’s face visible but Jungkook had yet to spot it. 

“Y- yeah.” you say, praying that he stops flipping through the pages. Yoongi glances over to you, his eyes just as wide as yours. He simply shakes his head as if to say ‘stop him’. 

“These are really goo- oh! You drew Yoongi!” Jungkook’s fingers begin to pull at the piece of paper which causes you to unhook your seat belt and take the entire sketchbook out of Jungkook’s hands. 

He seems lost for a second, “Can I see the Yoongi drawing?” 

“No!” you and Yoongi respond simultaneously, panic lacing both of your voices while Yoongi pulls into an unfamiliar neighborhood. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “You two doing something freaky?” 

Yoongi coughs, “I was just a model for (Y/N) to practice with.” 

“A nude model?” Jungkook asks in a sing-song voice, noticing the way you glance at Yoongi.

“Cool it with the questions, Kookie.” Yoongi scolds gently. 

“Hey, I don’t judge. I posed nude for a sculpting class once, those girls got to look at my bits for hours and I’m sure they enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed looking at Yoongi’s-” 

“Wow would you look at that, we’re home! Get the fuck out of my car.” Yoongi turns around, gesturing for Jungkook to exit. Jungkook holds a smirk on his face, “Be safe.” 

As soon as Jungkook gets out of the car, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Yoongi rests his head on the steering wheel, laughing quietly to himself in both embarrassment and joy. 

“Why did you have that drawing in the sketchbook?” He questions as he reverses out of the driveway. 

You shrug, “I don’t know... I just wanted to show you what I’ve been working on since that day.” 

“Like what?”

“A self portrait.” you shrug, opening the sketchbook and flipping to the most recently filled in page. You hold it up so Yoongi can glance at it while he drives, but you didn’t expect his eyes to bulge out of his head while he slams on the breaks and pulls off to the side of the neighborhood road. 

Instantly, he reaches and takes the book from you, his eyes scanning over the drawing repeatedly. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You smile gently, pointing your finger to your chest, “I drew my boobs more even than they actually are so I’m not that gorgeous.” 

Yoongi’s eyes turn to slits, “Well this is tainted now. How will I ever be able to hang this up when it’s not accurate to the real thing?” 

You giggle, pushing Yoongi’s shoulder gently. His joking tone diminishes once his eyes fall back on the drawing, the smile dropping from his face while his finger traces the curve of your hips. “Gorgeous...” he whispers again, “Fuck, I love this so much. Thank you.” 

He leans across the center console and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

That’s just not enough, though. 

You slip the sketchpad out of his hands and close it, “You want to see the real thing?” 

Your lack of touch from Yoongi these past couple weeks didn’t seem to bother you but now that you have him alone, you want to jump his bones. 

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to nod, unhooking his seat belt and leaning his chair back a little bit. You grin, slipping the t-shirt over your head and pressing a harsh kiss against Yoongi’s lips. He welcomes your lips, drinking you in while his hands begin to roam your now bare skin. He slips his grip down to your thighs, pulling you over the center console and causing you straddle his thighs. 

Not breaking the kiss, you begin to grind yourself down onto Yoongi’s quick-hardening cock. He moans into the kiss, his hands kneading your ass roughly. You gasp when you feel his hand lay a hard smack against your ass, the sound resonating throughout the car and causing Yoongi to smirk. 

“Oh, you like being spanked?” he peppers kisses across your neck, “have you been a bad girl?” 

“Mhm,” you moan, “I’m your bad girl.” 

“That’s right,” Yoongi growls, spanking you once again, “my bad girl.” 

You toss your head back when you feel Yoongi’s hips begin to twist beneath you, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. You reach between the two of you, unzipping his jeans and threading his cock through the hole. 

Yoongi sucks in a breath through his teeth while your small hand pumps him up and down carefully. 

“No time,” Yoongi groans, “ride me.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. 

The feeling of the slick between your legs was enough to show that you were ready, so Yoongi’s fingers push your panties to the side while he holds his cock and lines it up with your entrance. It doesn’t take long for him to slip inside, his hands gripping your hips and lifting you up and down while you moaned above him. 

“You like my cock, don’t you baby? You’re gonna cum so good for me, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, the encouraging tone causing your body to jolt with pleasure. You nod quickly, your mouth opening to respond but the only noise to leave your throat was a whisper of his name. 

He feels the way your walls clamp down on him, leaning forward and nibbling across your breasts. “Fuck,” he curses while you speed your hips up, “your pussy feels so good around me.” 

Yoongi’s words cause your orgasm to creep up on you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra as you pulsate around him. Yoongi bears his teeth as he cums, growling low and deep while his fingers grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises but you didn’t mind. 

You both sit for a moment while you catch your breath, Yoongi’s tongue licking a long stripe from your collarbones to your jawbone before he kisses your lips. 

“Did so good for me,” he rubs soothing circles in your burning thighs, “was I vocal enough for you?” 

You laugh, “Yes sir. Please keep it coming.” 

You both wince as he lifts you off of him, falling into the passenger seat and sighing happily. 

Your feet rest in his lap after the two of you are cleaned up, his hands gently massaging them while he tells you about a new song that he’s working on and how he hopes that someone will be interested. 

It’s then that you realize that this is going to extend past the need for sex, because the two of you were both genuinely interested in each other’s lives. He speaks animatedly about his interests and listens intently to yours. It doesn’t take you long to begin imagining waking up beside him every morning with the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. 

As he drops you off at your apartment for the night, Yoongi walks you to your doorstep.You unlock the door and turn to give him a goodbye kiss but he stops you, grabbing your hand and stroking across your knuckles. 

“So, do you think you’d be interested in being my girlfriend?” He asks nervously, “I- I wasn’t sure if you were just thinking of this as a friend with benefits situation so I figured I would ask before one of us gets hurt.” 

You nearly coo at the man, watching the way his eyes dance across his feet. 

You bring your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, slamming a kiss onto his lips one more time. His hand grips the back of your shirt tightly, his tongue exploring your mouth while you lean against the wall. He pulls away with a grin, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Is that a yes?” 

You smile, “Of course.” 

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

[arcane-apathy]

F Drider X F Reader

AN: Welcome to a new little mini-series of mine. I have been dying to write a drider story for the longest time now. This story is the first of my high fantasy genre, all my other stories have been modern fantasy or sci-fi. But this one is pure fantasy. I’m very slowly trying to make my content applicable for a wider audience as well. Anyways... Thank y’all for your support, and I hope you’ll enjoy! 

Warning(s): Swearing, Violence, Injuries, Mention of Sexual Assault, Death, Alcohol, Brief Mention of Nudity

  The Bloodroot Forest was the last place you expected to make camp in. When you first saw it on the map you tried everything to avoid it. But, the forest was massive and would take weeks for you to circumvent. Upon arrival you discovered the name of it is scarier than the actual forest. Simply named after the dark red sap that flowed from the otherwise normal trees. The forest was calm, the paths well worn and old, and the deer were brave. 

  Your camp was measly and made of the bare necessities, product of a rushed escape. War has ravaged your community, forcing everyone to seek refuge in new places. You have yet to find a suitable home, one far enough away so you wouldn’t need to flee again. For now you lived out of your bag, foraging for food, and with a stiff back. But, whenever you wanted to complain, you had to remind yourself of what your fate would’ve been if you hadn’t left home. 

  The forest was peaceful at night as you laid on your makeshift bed, tightly wrapped up in your cloak. The wind gently tosses the branches above you and the occasional noise of an animal. Just as you were about to sleep, the noises changed. The nocturnal birds stopped chirping and you could hear the animals running further away from you. And you didn’t dare to move. Animals only left when they were scared and if the deer that were brave enough to mosey into your camp earlier were scared, something big was coming. 

  Very slowly you sat up, straining your ears for any hint as to what was coming. The silence was bone chilling. Then there was a rustle. You couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from, which didn’t put you at any ease. Slowly your hand landed on the blade at your waist, a gift from your uncle after coming of age. 

  “Well, what do I have here?” You quickly cover your mouth to keep from screaming, turning around to look behind you. Yet no one was there. “Look up.” Out of sheer curiosity you obeyed, your eyes quickly met with large pure black eyes and pincers. You try to scramble away from them, only to find yourself hitting the tree behind you. Driders were a force to be reckoned with, most of them being mercenaries or guards to those of importance. But, encountering one in their natural habitat was another story. Here they were territorial and followed no laws. 

  The Drider smirks as he hangs above you, his black and white legs twitch in anticipation as he watches you, “I knew I smelt something off earlier. Now I know what it is.” His pitch black hand reached out to touch you, “and you do smell divine.” Normally when a scent-sensitive person no matter what race they were compliments you on your scent, it would fill you with a sense of pride. But this just felt wrong on so many levels. “So girly, what are you doing in my territory?” 

  You shy away from his hand, glancing up and the red and black abdomen above you, “just passing through, I promise to be gone by morning.” 

  He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, his pincers rising as he frowns, “see I can't just let you through without any way to pay." You could now feel the heat of his breath fanning over you as he gets even closer. Sadly with his advantage of four arms he managed to grab a hold of your wrist. "But, I can easily think of a way for you to pay." 

  Now it was your turn to frown, "I don't think so." His grip tightened, promoting you to tighten your grip on your blade. Thankful it was hidden within your cloak. 

  "You don't have a choice", he hisses and tries to pull you off of the ground. You pull out your blade as fast as you could, using the momentum to slice his arm. The Drider hisses in pain as you scurry out from underneath him, bolting into the foliage not even bothering to look back. If you were lucky you'd be able to return for your things at a later time. But your safety was more important than your measly possessions. 

  You knew it was crazy to try and outrun a being with eight legs and the instincts of an apex predator. But it was all you had. It didn’t take long for the muscles in your leg to start to burn. The cool night air felt like freezing on your skin and like a fire in your lungs. And you could hear him gaining on you. 

  “Get back here you little bitch,” he hissed. Which only prompted you to run faster, despite how much it hurt. You could hear that he was taunting you, but you didn’t bother to actually listen to what he was saying. All you focused on was the ground in front of you, avoiding the tree roots at all costs. But what you didn’t account for was webbing. The silk was basically invisible in the dark, and thick enough to trip you. 

  You fall onto your shoulder with a cry, pain blossoming along your left-hand side like a spiteful flower. The branches and roots doing little to cushion your fall. Desperately you crawl to your hands and knees. Doing everything in your power to keep any semblance of distance between you and the Drider. But his laugh was already too close for comfort. Before you know it, you're grabbed by the hair and lifted off the ground. You couldn't help but scream as he pinned you to a nearby tree. His two pairs of arms being a natural advantage, "got you now."

  You kick at his chest, using every ounce of strength to push him away. But it just wasn't enough. You couldn't reach for your blade, and any attempt to wiggle out if his grasp was in vain. "Let me go!" 

  "Yeah right, after you've cut me with your blade. Nice try you little wench, but I'm going have fun with you until you take your last breath," his grip on your arms tightened to emphasize his point.  

  “Put her down brother,” a more effeminate voice calls out to him. Your breath catches in your throat as the source of the voice steps out of the shadows. The male Drider was large in comparison to you, but the female that entered the clearing made him look small. Much like the male, her skin, eyes, and hair were a pure black. Instead of a red and black abdomen, her arachnid body was pitch black. As she got closer the more the male dwarfed in comparison. 

  “The bitch was in my territory and she cut me.” 

  “And now you’re in my territory and I don’t care, let her go.” 

  The male looks at you, then back to the larger female with a frown, “fine.” Then he literally dropped you. You fall to the ground with a whimper, using your good arm to sit yourself back up. “Why even bother protecting her? She’d make a better meal than friend.” You struggle to get up, only realizing you were caged in by his legs and the tree. 

  “It doesn’t matter. My territory, my rules,” she slowly walks closer. “Step away from her.” Nobody moves, especially not the male Drider. All you heard was her sigh, heavy with disappointment, then all hell broke loose. The two Driders charge at each other, the male desperately trying to claw at her before she pushes him away. You watch in fear and awe, scrambling back into some bushes for safety. The male notices you moving and tries to lunge for you, but the female beats him to it as she stands over you. 

  “You really want to fight your own family over a pathetic human?” 

  “My morals mean more to me than you ever will.” She charges him again and picks him up before slamming him onto his back. Her pincers rise as she lets out a bone-chilling hiss of anger. With ease she climbs atop him, using her weight to hold him down. Her hands swiftly find their way around his throat. His legs flail and try to push her off, and he claws at her arms. But she did not let up. Instead you heard a sickening crunch, and his legs and arms fell to the ground. 

  Silence surrounded the two of you as she stood up and backed away from the lifeless Drider. Her chest heaving from the action and her hair in her face. You couldn’t help but stare at her in the moonlight. She sighs and looks at you, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” You watch her legs curiously as she steps closer to you. “You are hurt, please let me help you.” 

  You look back to the body and ask meekly, “he was your brother?”

  She nods, “one of thirty.” 

  Your eyes widen at the number, yet it made sense. Spiders lay a ridiculous amount of eggs, so Driders must do the same. You look back up to her as you try to stand up, “I think I dislocated my shoulder.”  

  “I have medical supplies back in my burrow, and light,” she smiles a little as she lowers herself down to look at you. “Can you walk?” 

  “I believe so, but it’s hard to stand up with one working arm.” She nods and grabs onto your good arm, gently pulling you to your feet. “Thank you.” 

  “Your welcome,” she smiles and gently holds your hand, “the forest will get darker the closer to my burrow we go. The trees are really thick over here.” You nod a little and let her guide you through the trees. Every time there was a log or boulder in your way she would pick you up and carry you over it. Her strength, agility, and endurance were nothing but impressive. No wonder why Driders are so sought after to be guards for nobility. Soon the opening of her burrow was in sight, a pair of bushes strategically planted alongside the opening to give it a little bit of cover. 

  The burrow was cozy to say the least, and was bigger than it looked on the outside. It was cool inside due to being underground, yet it was bright with the help of oil lamps and candles. The walls and ceiling were smoothed down and holding shape with the help of webbing. “Sadly I don’t have any furniture for you to sit on cause… well,”she motions to her abdomen before going to a large trunk. She pulls out a large blanket and leaves it folded up so it was like a pillow, “but this will be better than the floor.” 

  “I’m plenty used to sitting and sleeping on the ground by now. But thank you,” you sit down and wince as you bump your shoulder into the wall. You watch as she digs through a different trunk, reading the bottles and containers. 

  She walks over to you and sits on the ground in front of you, her legs sprawled out all over the place. Even without the added height of her legs she was still a few feet taller than you. If you had to guess, she looked to be around nine feet tall when she stood at her full height. “I don’t have many pain killers, but I do have a bottle of brandy if that will help.” 

  You chuckle as she hands you the bottle, “anything is helpful at this point.” 

  She motions to your cloak, “may I?” 

  You nod, “of course.” Her fingers were nimble as she undid the pin that held the garment closed. The cloak fell to the floor around you as she gently ran her hands along your shoulder. 

  “You’re right, it’s dislocated,” she offers a small smile, “but, I can easily put it back in.” 

  You sigh and take a swig of the brandy, “that would be greatly appreciated… After a few more sips.” 

  “Of course,” she chuckles and watches you drink. “I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Lalia.” You smile a little and introduce yourself as she watches you curiously. “So, what are you doing in the Bloodroot at night?” 

  “I was trying to sleep.” 

  “So you’re a traveler?” 

  “I’m trying to find refuge,” you wince as she lifts your arm straight. “I had to flee home because of war, and I’m just trying to get as far away as possible.” 

  “I’m sorry to hear of your loss.” 

  “It’s fine, I’m safe and that’s all that matters to me.” 

  She smiles a little and slowly lifts your arm, “this will hurt.” 

  “I fully expect it to,” you nod and close your eyes. The brandy only helps so much, even if you got wasted off of it. She notices your determination and nods. One of her hands gently resting on the back of your shoulder as she guides your bone back into the socket. You bite back a scream as you feel the bone pop back into place, then the pain immediately subsides. Simply an annoying buzz versus the piercing sensation that it was before. You let out a breath that you didn’t notice you were holding while Lalia tied something behind your neck. 

  She was using a scarf as a makeshift sling, “you should keep your arm like this for a couple days at least. So, it doesn’t pop out of place again.” 

  “Thank you Lalia, you truly are a lifesaver.” 

  She waves a slender hand dismissively, “it was nothing.” You glance at the claw marks that her brother had left along her forearms, the wounds already clotted. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll take a lot more than some claws to hurt me.” She gets up from sitting down and goes to put her supplies away. Now that your pain was gone, you finally got a chance to fully take in the woman in front of you. 

  Even in the lighting of the cave she was entirely black. Her skin, eyes, hair, and arachnid body were the color of ink. The light only reflecting off of her arachnid body made her look like she was made of velvet. Her face, just like her body, was slender and angular in nature. Then you also noticed she was completely bare, her lengthy hair being her only modesty. She was as beautiful as she was intimidating. And you couldn’t help but stare. 

  “Are you alright,” she tilts her head.

  “Uh yeah,” a little bit of heat rushes to your face, “just the brandy is starting to catch up with me.” 

  “Oh,” she looks around her living space before going to a shelf. She brings back a pitcher and a cup, “water from the nearby spring.” You smile as she hands you the cup, taking a large drink out of it. Not only was your pain dying down, so was your energy. Your exhaustion from traveling the woods all day and from running for your life. Lalia chuckles as you loudly yawn, her  legs making their way back to one of her many chests. She pulls out a bed roll and another large blanket from it, “I’ll make you a bed real quick.” 

  “I can make my own bed, it’s fine.” 

  “You have one working arm, I have four. I’ll make your bed.” Her tone left no room for arguing, so you simply sat and watched as she laid out the roll and the thick blanket atop of it to make it more plush. “Then you can use your cloak and the blanket you’re sitting on to cover up with.” 

  “Thank you, again… I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.” 

  “There’s no need hun, I’m just doing what’s right.” You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by the pet name, but you didn’t let it show. Instead you got up from your spot and made your way to the bedroll. Using your good hand to pick up your cloak. You kick off your boots, something you usually didn’t do while on the road. Then made yourself comfortable on the makeshift bed. Lalia brought over the blanket you were sitting on and gently laid it down around your feet. “Do you think you’ll need anything else?” 

  You arrange the blanket and your cloak to your liking, “I don’t think so.” It took you a little bit, but you were finally able to lay your head on the bedroll’s built in pillow. Which was hard with only one working arm. While you try to get comfortable, Lalia is walking around the main area of her burrow. Turning off the oil lamps and blowing out the candles, leaving only one lit so you weren’t drowned in darkness. You silently yawn as she moves about the burrow with ease. Making you wonder if it was purely by memorization or if she had enhanced night vision. 

  “I can feel you watching me.” 

  You blush as you were caught red handed, “I’m merely curious… You’re only the second Drider I’ve ever talked to.” 

  “I hope my brother didn’t make too bad of an impression.” 

  “There have been worse.” 

  Lalia slowly makes her way closer to you, her voice slowly becoming quieter, “I will have to go back out soon… To hunt and to claim my new territory…” 

  “I see, are you nocturnal?” 

  “Not exactly, but it’s easier to hunt at night. I’ll be sure to find your things as well.” 

  “That would be greatly appreciated. It’s all I have.” Her smile falters a little at your words, “no pressure though.” 

  She scoffs a little, “that’s not what I’m sad about.” 

  “Please don’t be sad for me. Like I said earlier, I’m alive and that’s all that matters to me.”  

  She comes closer to your bed and crouches down. Her warm and slender fingers gently brushing your hair off your face. "That is quite the noble thing to say. I don't know many people who would say that." 

  You couldn't help the heat that rushed to your face, "I'm nothing special." 

  "I would say otherwise,” her kind smile illuminated by the distant candlelight. You return the smile before having a jaw splitting yawn. She chuckles and gently pets the top of your head before standing up again. “You should sleep hun, it’s been a long day.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” you sigh and you try to get comfortable. “Good luck hunting.” 

  “Thank you, I’ll be back before morning.” You nod and watch as she walks towards the mouth of her burrow. Your need for sleep makes your eyes too heavy to hold as soon as you lose sight of her. Despite being alone within the burrow of a Drider, all you felt was comfort.

[jemelle]

codes to a heart

derek morgan x penelope garcia

rated t // 2.2k words // one-shot

summary: Things to avoid when creating a phone password: 1. A common set of numbers. 2. Personal information that’s easily searchable. 3. The birthday of the co-worker you’ve been in love with for almost as long as you’ve known him.

(Penelope has never been one to follow advice.) 

a/n: i do not pretend to remember anything about early 2010s technology, nor did i bother to research it. unbeta’d- comments and concrit welcome!

my masterlist

read this story on ao3!

Penelope’s phone password is Derek’s birthday. She knows that it’s unsafe, is more than happy to lecture the other agents on proper cybersecurity (iLoveHenry is very cute, JJ, but it’s not exactly secure), but she just can’t seem to force herself to change it. Every time she goes to unlock her phone, she smiles, the four numbers a constant reminder of everything that Derek is to her.

The first time Derek asks what her password is, she panics. She’d been the one to hand him the phone, wanting to show him a picture of a cute dog she’d seen on her way to work that morning. But too much time must have passed since she last tapped the screen, because the next thing she knows he’s waving the black screen in front of her.

“What’s the code?” he asks, and Penelope freezes, wondering if he’ll recognize it as soon as he hears the numbers, if he’ll understand why. 

“Give it to me,” she says, holding out her hand. In response, Derek holds it above his head, out of her reach. If she didn’t love him so much, Penelope might almost be mad.

“What are you worried about, babygirl?” His tone is teasing, and Penelope doesn’t want to imagine what his reaction might be if he really knew. “Afraid I’ll find something… incriminating?”

“Just give it to me, please?” Penelope watches smugly as her puppy dog face wins him over, just as it does every time. She punches in the code, then hands it back to him, panic receding as Derek begins to coo over the photo.

-

The two of them are on their way to Rossi’s, and they’re running late. Penelope’s driving, because Derek’s car may have broken down, but she’s damned if she’ll let anyone else drive Esther.

“Tell Rossi we’ll be there in ten minutes,” she says, not taking her eyes off the road. The others have teased her for being such a cautious driver, but she can’t help it, not when she sees danger around every corner.

“Okay,” he responds.

Penelope continues driving. Beside her, she can hear Derek rummaging around, sounding increasingly irritated. When they pull up to a red light, she turns to him. Derek’s searching the footwell, but he looks up immediately, as if he can feel her gaze.

“I must have left my phone at home,” he says. Derek had called her half an hour ago, asking if she could take him to the party. Penelope had jumped at the opportunity, even though it meant going out of her way.

“You can use mine. It’s in my bag.” Her purse is in the backseat, slightly out of reach. Derek twists around to reach it, forearm grazing hers. At his touch, Penelope’s insides seem to grow tiny, fluttering wings. She shushes them firmly.

The light turns green and she presses down on the gas, sending the car into motion once more. A moment later, Derek finally finds her phone. He grabs it triumphantly before sitting back in his seat.

Penelope is a stickler for the speed limit, which is possibly the only thing that saves the both of them when Derek says: “What’s your code?”

She jolts, hitting the accelerator a little too hard. Terror rises in her throat as the resulting force presses them against their seats. Penelope makes herself ease onto the brake and take deep breaths until she can feel her heart settling.

“You okay?” Derek asks when they’ve returned to the previous speed. Penelope nods mutely.

Her heart starts up again as she remembers what he needs. She could wait for another red light, but they’re in the suburbs now, so stoplights are few and far between. She could pull over, but that seems like a gross overreaction. Penelope is a fully-grown woman. She refuses to be humbled by a crush, even if it is a crush on the best man she’s ever known.

Penelope gives him the passcode a single digit at a time. She’s almost sure he’ll know by the end, every moment taking her close to the point of no return. As she says the last number, Penelope braces for impact, not knowing what awaits her on the other side.

In the end, Derek says nothing, and she’s too scared to ask if he missed it or if he’s just trying to let her down easy.

-

Spencer, on the other hand, definitely takes notice. They’re in the bullpen, Spencer sitting on his desk while Penelope spins absentmindedly in his chair. He watches over his shoulder as she unlocks her phone, eyes narrowing in thought. She’s just tapped the final number when he opens his mouth:

“Isn’t that Mor–” Penelope claps a hand over his mouth to keep him from revealing her secret to the entire bullpen. Damn his stupidly perceptive brain. 

He’s still speaking, words muffled by her hand. Before Emily, JJ, or, god forbid, Derek can notice, Penelope takes her hand away, shooting him a warning glare. Wisely, he shuts up, at least until they’re both alone.

When the whole team breaks for lunch, Penelope drags Spencer into the nearest storage closet, ignoring his protestations.

“I love you dearly,” she whispers. “But if you say anything about this…” 

It’s not really a threat so much as it is a plea. If Spencer says anything, she’ll lose whatever dignity she still has. Penelope isn’t stupid: she’s heard what the office gossip mill has to to say about her and Derek. She’s pretty sure there’s even a pool on if and when they’ll get together. 

If this gets out, people with much less intelligence than Spencer will be able to figure out this attraction is unrequited. Her friendship with Derek, once sweet, will become pathetic. She doesn’t even allow herself to think about what Derek would say.

Spencer holds his hands up in surrender. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The fact that she didn’t even have to explain why it matters to her is one of the many, many reasons she adores Spencer Reid. As long as she cares, he cares.

On his way out of the closet, Spencer turns back to her. “He loves you, you know that?”

Of course she does. But, despite the strength of Derek’s love, he doesn’t love her the way she does, deeply and recklessly and without regard for the safety of her soul’s inner reaches.

-

It’s Penelope’s birthday, and the team has thrown her a party in the conference room. As the birthday girl, she isn’t supposed to lift a single finger, so Penelope sits in the chair of honor while the others cater to her every whim.

Earlier, JJ had slid a plastic tiara into her hair, telling Penelope she was queen for the day. Penelope couldn’t resist beaming at that, an extra bounce enfusing her step. She thinks she might make wearing one a regular habit.

Penelope’s chair, positioned as centrally as it can be, given the circular table, is decorated with a multitude of sparkly ribbons. Spencer is sitting to one side of her, but today Penelope only has eyes for Derek, who sits on her other side.

It’s magnetic, the way he moves. As she watches, Derek laughs at something Emily says, eyes crinkling and head tilting up to expose the long column of his neck. At this rate, Penelope is going to drop dead before it’s time to eat cake.

She makes it to the cake phase of the party, though not without a great deal of effort. Derek, for his part, is determined to make it as difficult as possible. As JJ brings the cake out, he rests his hand on her arm. It’s the kind of casual touch they do all the time, but today it feels like a brush of fire.

The team sings to her, voices clashing as they try to harmonize in six different keys. When they’re done, she blows out her candle, making the same wish she always does. Let the people I love stay safe. 

She looks at Derek when she’s finished, and there’s something in his gaze that makes her unable to look away. His eyes are full of love, the kind she wants to last forever. When he turns away to say something to Hotch, she makes a second, selfish wish. Let him love me the way I do.

-

The party has mostly finished by now. Emily’s begrudgingly peeling streamers down from the ceiling, having been informed by Hotch that they constitute a serious fire hazard. Derek and Penelope are standing in the corner, reluctant to return to work.

Emily exits the room, and Penelope knows they should too. The crimes don’t stop when they take a break, no matter how much she wishes they did. Penelope adjusts her tiara, steeling herself to go back to invading the lives of perfect strangers.

Derek walks her back to her office, arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, his presence an always-welcome comfort. When they reach her office, he lets go of her. She pushes open the door, turning back to look at him.

“You should probably go,” she says, and he nods. Standing there before her, he looks so earnest, so gorgeous, like everything she’s ever wanted. In her mind’s eye, she sees a million futures with him, a million timelines where he loves her back. And it’s her birthday and she’s tired of wanting, so Penelope lets herself think for a moment that those futures might be possible. 

She opens her mouth to say goodbye and that glimmer of hope intervenes.

What she means to say is I love you, the same words she’s uttered a million times to him. What comes out instead is: “I’m in love with you.”

Holy mother of all Freudian slips. She tries desperately to figure out what to say, but her mind goes blank. Her first instinct is to take it back, but her throat burns at the thought of having to pretend she doesn’t really love him.

A small part of her is relieved that it’s out in the open, but the rest of her wants to lock herself in her office for several days. Why did she have to go and fall in love with him in the first place? Why wasn’t she satisfied with what they had?

She swallows dryly, but doesn't say anything, watching Derek for his reaction. He’s staring at her, expression inscrutable. Penelope flushes, counting down the seconds until she’ll have to execute plan barricade-self-in-office. There’s only five seconds left on the clock when Derek makes his move.

“Penelope, I want to show you something.” Derek holds out his phone and she takes it, confused. Is he going to pretend that nothing happened? That’s somehow worse than anything he could say.

She turns on his phone, only to be met by the lock screen.

“What’s your password?” she asks, because she should probably say something at some point. She doesn’t quite register what she’s said until he responds.

“What do you think it is?”  he says, infinitely gentle.

Oh. Penelope slowly types in her own birthday, not quite daring to believe that might be what he means. Sure enough, his phone unlocks, opening to reveal his background, a terrible selfie they had taken together.

With some difficulty, Penelope manages to compose herself. She swallows hard. “What… what was it you wanted to show me?”

He takes the phone back from her, holding it in front of her face. “This, Penelope. Don’t pretend you don’t know what it means.”

Penelope lets out an entirely undignified squeak. Here it is, the thing she’s always wanted. Proof that Derek loves her back romantically. Every plan she had for this moment, every grand gesture, flees her head completely, heading for the next galaxy over at warp speed. She reacts instinctively, stepping closer to him until only a few inches separate them. The point of no return is receding rapidly in the distance.

Derek puts his hand under her chin, tilting her face up. Penelope thinks there might be tears in her eyes, tries to blink them away before he can see them.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and she restrains herself from screaming ‘YES’ at the top of her lungs.

She whispers her agreement instead, almost reverently. 

He kisses her, lightly, and Penelope swears she can feel actual stars forming in her eyes. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of, only her dreams could never measure up to reality, the way Derek pulls back slightly, running his thumb along her bottom lip before kissing her again.

This time, they break away only when air becomes a necessity. Penelope rests her head on his chest, delighting in the knowledge that if there are more more journeys to make, more challenges to conquer, she won’t be alone. Truth be told, she’s never been alone as long as she had him.

Above her, Derek lets out a startled, “Hey!”

Penelope looks up, following his gaze to where Emily is standing, holding up her own phone, streamers dangling from her other hand. When she notices them watching her, Emily gives them a wave.

“Sorry!” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “I need proof for the pool.”

Usually, Penelope would march over and make Emily delete those photos, but today, she couldn’t care less. Instead, she leans up to Derek, grin so broad it could split her face in two, and pulls him in for another kiss.

taglist: @elleroodles, @lizziechase, @blakes-dictionxry

[labelleofbelfastcity]

hold my hand, it’s a long way down

1.5k, high fantasy royalty au, most of the details of which were provided by @capybart

read on ao3 here

Kalina smirks as she glides into the room, black furs gleaming around her shoulders and long train hissing across the floor. Riz, reflexively, takes a step back, as his eyes clock the false crown atop her head, the feline smile curving her mouth, and the knife in her hand, flickering in the candlelight.

“I trust you’re doing well,” she says, and keeps approaching until she’s standing right before him, staring him down.

Riz’s heart jumps a beat and his eyes dart around, trying to see where he can go, what he can grab, if it is even likely to move at all before that knife is sliding into his neck and tearing an ugly gash in his throat. “Not with any thanks to you.”

Kalina huffs, mouth quirking to the side, before she slumps down to sit on his bed, shoulders falling and head tilting to look at him. The black gem in the center of her diadem seems to dance like cold fire, drawing Riz’s eyes to it even as he tries to focus on a million and one other things. Unnatural, Riz thinks, with a sickening shock directly to his heart. And then he remembers the things people have always whispered about Kalina, words like witch and sorceress and Shadow Cat. Remembers those words and sees the way her eyes flash yellow in the candle’s flame.

“I’m disappointed in you, kiddo. I thought you’d figure out by now that this is all for you.”

“Where’s my mom?” Riz spits out, as he has done every time Kalina visits him in these much too fancy rooms, this much too fancy prison.

Kalina rolls her eyes, leans back on one arm, flips the dagger in her other hand, “Thought we got past that already.”

“I know you did something to her.”

“I didn’t do anything. Besides, she’s safe. She’s comfortable. What more could you ask of me?”

“I want you to give her back.”

“And I thought it was you, kiddo, who told me not too long ago that people weren’t toys. That they couldn’t be given and taken. Hm. Must be wrong about that.” Kalina flicks the tip of the dagger at him, holding it just a few inches away from Riz’s ribs, where she could slide it straight up and into his heart. “That’s not what I came here for, though. How’s the prince doing?”

“Aren’t you at court with him?” Riz spits out, and refuses to yield yet another step.

“Yes, yes. And he’s doing so well today, too. I’ve never seen a more attentive courter, practically glued to the Lady Aelwyn’s side. Which is funny, seeing as how we had to drag him from his rooms less than a week ago.”

“Fabian’s not planning anything,” Riz says, leaving out the because I am.

Kalina huffs, and taps the dagger against her own cheek, “I don’t know when you’ll learn. Everything you know, I know. I’m in your head, kiddo.”

Riz’s spine snaps straight as a scream he knows doesn’t exist sounds from his left, and then his right, screams that sounds like Fig and Fabian. Screams he only knows because of that day, weeks ago, when the Abernants and their holy warriors in gleaming sun-forged metal took the castle and forced the prince, Riz’s friend, the person Riz was supposed to protect above all else, to stab his father in the heart. Fig had screamed then, in rage, and tried to take the nearest knight out with a swing of her lute, and Fabian had screamed later, when the three of them were back in these rooms, in that soft, silent way of tears and grief and heartache and complete and total betrayal.

“See? That’s what you don’t understand,” Kalina says, standing once again. “That’s what I’m saving you from. I’m protecting your little friends because you’re useful to me. You don’t want to stop being useful to me, do you?”

Riz remains where he is, fighting back the nausea as the screams grow. Now, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, rooted to the spot by a clawed hand holding tightly onto his mind.

“Do you?” Kalina asks again, and this time she brings the knife up to Riz’s jaw, just under his ear. The cold pricks against his skin and Riz is so afraid.

“No,” he rasps out, and she smiles again, eyes crinkling. The screams immediately stop.

“Good.” The heavy handle of the knife drops into Riz’s hand, and his fingers close over it reflexively. It’s dangerous, to give your enemy a weapon. Dangerous, still, to give them a weapon they have no hope to use in any way that counts. “You can’t get away from me, bud. Just remember that.”

Riz snarls at her, “We’re going to stop you.”

Kalina clucks her tongue and begins to walk away, “The only way you’ll escape is if I want you to.”

The door swings shut behind her right as her hold over Riz’s body drops, and he sags a little, before startling upright again. She must know, there’s no way she doesn’t. Her knowing had not been a factor of the plan, despite everything pointing towards its likelihood. Really, how could Riz have been so stupid? He’ll need a few minutes to change things, modify them so that they can actually escape, can actually get out of here.

Fabian is trapped in this castle. Fig is trapped. Their new ally, the oracle Adaine Abernant, their friend, is trapped as well. He can’t risk their freedom for himself, can’t risk Fabian and Fig’s sacrifices and the dangerous line between family and safety Adaine is flirting with. He just… he’ll figure out another way. He just needs time.

The heavy sound of a wooden lute being swung against a head thunks from outside Riz’s door, and then it’s opening to reveal his friends standing on the threshold. No, no, no, this is happening too fast. He hasn’t had time to plan.

Fig lowers her lute from where it’s raised in the air, hovering around where the now unconscious guard’s head probably was less than a second ago.

“Shit, Riz, we need to go,” Adaine says, hoisting her skirts and sprinting for his window, the same window Riz had been preparing before Kalina waltzed in.

Fabian twirls his red, embroidered, very much not stealthy court cloak from his shoulders, slinging on the black one he’d stashed on Riz’s chair earlier. The cloak that Kalina had most certainly seen because Riz hadn’t bothered to hide it. “We have five minutes.”

Adaine throws the window open and immediately heaves one of her legs out of it, hair whipping slightly in the breeze. She reaches behind her and grabs Fig’s hand, pulling her up and onto the windowsill beside her.

They’ve discussed this plan ad nauseum for weeks. So it’s almost too easy for Adaine and Fig to leap from the window with nothing but a nod, not even noticing how Riz has yet to move from his spot.

“Alright, we’re next, The Ball,” Fabian says, and hoists himself up onto the windowsill, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders in preparation for the leap.

Riz moves, then, takes a step back, hands outstretched in a pleading way that doesn’t connect with the usual brave, cunning parts of himself, the parts that plan a castle escape and wind up as companion to the prince. “You can’t take me with you. Kalina, she’s— She’s in my head. She knows, Fabian. I can’t risk it.”

Fabian’s mouth tugs and he leans back into the room, grabbing one of Riz’s outstretched hands and tugging him forward, to the open window, to their one chance at escape. “I didn’t leave you behind before, I’m not about to start now.”

And Riz remembers, remembers the way he and Fig had fought tooth and nail during those first moments of the coup, before the King had fallen at his son’s hand. They’d bought Fabian a second of time, a moment to run, but he’d frozen, frozen as the knights grappled Fig and Riz, frozen with his sword hanging in the air, the wound on his face a bleeding mess.

“Go, Fabian,” Riz had screamed, Fig shouting as well.

Fabian’s sword clattered out of his hand, and he allowed himself to be grabbed by the knight who cut out his eye, to be dragged alongside Riz and Fig to that throne room, to where Kalina and the Abernants waited with King Bill Seacaster slowly bleeding out on his own steps.

“I couldn’t leave you, The Ball. I couldn’t lose you.” Fabian had said that night, once the tears were dry and Fig snored beside them.

“You won’t. We’re going to get through this together,” Riz had said and curled up tightly into Fabian’s side.

The memory flashes in Riz’s head, and then it’s gone, and Riz is back in his night dark room, wind from the open window brushing against his cheeks, and Fabian’s warm hand wrapped around his, pleading, in his own way, for him to follow.

Riz holds tight to the dagger Kalina had given him, the dagger he plans to hurl straight into her heart someday, and allows himself to be pulled out of the window.

[gintokisimp]

If you don't have a Past, you can't have a Future. Chapter 1

Short GinTsu stories set 10 years after the final chapter. SPOILERS!

Genre: Fluff, Family

Rating: General Audience

Word Count: 2,864

10 years had passed.

10 years since he thought he lost everything again.

10 years since Takasugi died in his arms.

10 years since another important part of his life had died.

Every time he thought he found happiness, it just slipped through his fingers like fine sand.

I didn't reach anything. I couldn't protect anyone

The long day had made his head dizzy and his thoughts were weighing heavy on him on his dark way home. Once those thoughts started, he couldn't stop them from overwhelming him and spiraling down into more depressing ones.

Coming home to the house, that his unrelated family left, still felt weird on those evenings. Kagura and Shinpachi were living their own lives now. They still worked together almost every day, but the kids left the nest and became adults. He couldn't chain them down to him eternally and it was also never what he intended to do.

Searching for the keys in his pockets, he heard the faint sounds of glasses clanking, cheering and laughter from the bar below. At least some things didn't change over the years, but was it really a good idea to keep living above a busy establishment? He couldn't just leave the memories he made here behind. The importance of those were undescribable and the future can only bring more. Sometimes the noises kept him up at night.

According to his circumstances, he became a very light sleeper in the last years, constantly in a worry that something might happen, always prepared to jump to action. Gladly, it was getting better again and he caught himself sleeping like a stone again more often, with no one disturbing him. That was a lie. Ah how much he wished it was true that no one would disturb his precious sleep. But he wasn't complaining either, the cause of the disturbances were way too precious to him.

He pushed the keys in, but the door opened without him unlocking it. Why wasn't it locked. It's already late and with the recent growth of the city, you never knew what could happen if someone noticed an unlocked home. Especially with that shitty police force, that was entrusted with the 'safety' of the citizens. Gintoki grumbled. He couldn't withstand the thought that some thug could break in and steal his most priced possessions. He slid it open fully and entered the house, locking the door safely behind him.

"Tadaima" he mumbled into the empty building, while shaking off his boots, placing them next to four different sets of shoes.

One pair of high black stilettos,

two pairs of zoris in the exact same size, only colored differently,

and one pair of black boots, similar to his own ones, but in a size that was way too small for Gintoki.

He slowly shuffled to the main room, whose Shoji door was closed, so the small entrance area was quite dark, only allowing a little bit of dim light shining through the thin paper door. It was later than he intended to come home and no one was waiting for him anyways. Before he could reach for the door, the sound of small footsteps startled him.

"haaah" A small figure leaped from the shadows of the small room and tackled him unexpectedly, making him stumble backwards, away from the door.

"oooofff" With no possibility to catch himself, he fell to the ground with an uncomfortable sound and the figure sat down on his legs, fidgeting happily at the successful assault.

The house wasn't so empty after all.

He would have come home to an empty building if it wasn't for her.

Two more shadows joined the figure, one jumped on his chest, while the other tugged on his white sleeve. Gintoki sighed angrily, but couldn't suppress a smile.

"Why are you still up? It's already long past your bedtime. Where is your mother?" He asked the shadows.

"She slept in waiting for you" The almost 9 year old boy on his legs replied.

"Mommy is sleeping, she couldn't stop us!" The 6 year old girl on his chest chirped.

"...sleeping!" The other 6 year old boy tugged on the fabric harshly.

Three.. why three? One was already enough. No wonder she was so tired after all. He cursed his own inability to hold back whenever he saw her walking around a little bit different than usual, she was just too damn beautiful. But how would he have know that they would offspring a pair of twins. How did I even end up in this, I of all people. The one who belongs to no one, the one who doesn't deserve anything. Who was foolish enough to be with me. I really don't deserve this after all that happened, after all those time he hurt her. Even though she was never hurt by his cowardliness.

And yet, the proof of their love was right in front of him.

Having a different family of his own, related by blood.

Love is weird. It hit him when he was at his lowest, time and time again. And after everything had finally come to an end, their time just started. I'm really an idiot for thinking so negative about that. He was blessed with the most adorable kids and a loving wife. He couldn't ask for more. He already had everything he ever wanted.

Lost in his thoughts, the kids stopped to jump on him.

"Papi, where are ya looking?" big bright amethyst eyes shined through silky silver bangs and stared directly into his.

Ah.. she's so beautiful, just like her mother. At least, she didnt inherit his permed hair. But he couldn't say the same about the two boys. Both of them had the same unruly hair, but only their oldest also inherited his eyes. He looked exactly like Gintoki did at that age and he was now in a phase, where he mirrored his parents behavior, requesting a pair of boots that looked like his fathers and proudly stomped around in them. Earlier that week, Shinpachi gave him one his white haori with the distinctive blue swirl patterns and he wore it like it was made out of gold.

He became a mirror of his father with every passing day, except that he inherited none of Gintokis bad features. Except his hair maybe. One day Gintoki would need to tell him, that he can't land a woman with that perm. He would reply that his father landed a woman with that hair, but that was a totally different story.

She always said it was unfair that all three of them looked like him. That wasn't true, they smiled exactly like she did and sometimes they imitated her way of speaking. His hand reached up to ruffle through her hair and she closed her eyes in comfort. Gintoki carefully stood up, keeping her in his arm.

"I wanna be carried too"

"Me too, me too!"

Gintoki felt the weight of the older boy pushing down on his back, while his younger son stretched out his arms in joyful expectation, smiling happily. Their smiles always hit a soft spot in his heart and saying no to these smiles was like saying no to a truckload of strawberry parfaits.

Pure Hell.

He picked up the smiling boy with his free arm, placing him on his hip and kissing his wavy hair. It was freshly washed and smelled like vanilla and strawberries. The scent had become his favorite after some scammy fortune teller on the street told him 10 years ago, that his future smelled like a mix of those treats. He never told anyone why he insisted on buying those specific scents and also no one asked. And even if, he wouldn't admit his reason.

"I want a kiss, I want a kiss"

"You're too old for that"

"Mommy says you're never too old for kisses. She gives you long kisses everywhere, I've seen it. And you're already ancient!" The boy on his back said innocently.

"Fine, you will get one when you're in bed." Gintoki shuddered thinking about the things he meant with 'long kisses everywhere' and decided he would need to start being more careful with what he did around them. They were getting older at a fast rate. It wasn't long until they moved out and he will end up in a wheelchair, crippled of old age.

Fully packed, with a child in each arm and one on his back, he made his way to the shoji door, quietly sliding it open with one of his feet.

Please don't wake up he thought. She would only accuse herself of being a bad mother if she knew that their kids werent in bed and he didnt want that to happen. She was a good mother, the best mother.

Tsukuyo was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a thin blanket, her head slightly tilted, breathing calmly. She must have had an exhausting day at work, if she was able to sleep in a position like that. The room was lit by two candles on the table next to her. Gintoki stopped in his tracks. He was stunned to see her like this, smiling lightly in her sleep. Her beauty always knocked him out at the most unexpected moments.

"Hey why did you stop" His daughter whispered.

"Don't look at mommy like that, it's creepy." The boy in his arm continued her thoughts.

"Shhh, quiet" His cheeks flushed, caught staring at his wife by his own damn kids. He continued his way to the stairs and started to climb them, groaning under the extra weight on his back. The new part of their home was added right after the twins came. Gintoki refused to move out, saying he didn't want to give up the free of charge babysitter that was living downstairs. He couldn't admit that he just wanted to stay here close to her and continue protecting her. That old woman was more important in his life than he wanted to concede.

With the countless connections he had, he was able to get a good offer for the extension of the house, adding two stories in total, making it big enough for his growing family. That way, it was also possible to use the ground floor for office purposes only, but they still used it as a private space from time to time, away from the kids. The kids bedrooms were on the upper floor, so he had to climb another set of stairs, leaving him panting. They were getting too heavy to be carried and the hard work from the last days had already strained him enough.

"Papi, you're weak" The kid on his back snickered while Gintoki got down to let him jump from his back. The twins on his hips were already sleeping.

"Yes, maybe. Your mom is a lot stronger than I am" He replied, a little bit hurt.

The boy slid from his back, now standing in front of him, picking his nose.

"I told you numerous times already, stop doing that. If you continue this, you will pick your brain out" Gintoki scolded him.

"Is that why mom always says you're an utter idiot?" He replied.

Gintoki blinked, stunned

"She says that?.. to whom?" Was that really something new though?

"Everyone"

Gintoki pouted. "I'm not an idiot.." He mumbled.

"I know, she loves you"

The boys crimson eyes stared directly into his, lazily, while he continued to pick his nose, uninterested in the conversation. Gintoki felt like looking into a mirror. Dazed, he tried to process how intelligent that child could be sometimes. Kids are weird.

"Go to bed, I'm coming in a minute."

He stood up and carried the twins to their rooms. Looking at the justaway clock, he wasn't surprised they were sleeping in his arms. He sighed. I really need to stop coming home so late. It didn't happen that often, but he always felt guilty when if occurred. Carefully, he placed them in their beds and tugged them in, planting a kiss on their foreheads. The moon was shining through the window on the small silhouettes. Gintoki kneeled beside them, observed their hair shining silver in the faint light. How could someone like him spawn something to beautiful. But his own moons beauty was mainly involved in that as well, so it wasn't really a surprise.

"Good night" He whispered to them and left them room. The twins were sleeping in the same bed since they have been born. They refused to split up as they grew older. But the day will come sooner or later.

Gintoki sneaked into the older boys room. He hoped that he had already fallen asleep as well, but his eyes were shining at him, as he entered through the open door. He kneeled down next to him and patted his perm.

"Close your eyes or a ghost will steal them." Gintoki teased him.

"Ghosts don't exist" He simply replied.

"How do you know that?"

"I'm not stupid"

Gintokis eyebrow twitched and he patted the boys head a little harder.

"Please treat mommy right, she always misses you when you come home late" The boy whispered.

"I will" Gintoki replied after a long pause.

He was about to stand up, but remembered his promise. Bending down, he placed a light kiss on the kids forehead and the boy closed his eyes, smiling Tsukuyos smile. Gintoki stood up and left the room and climbed down the stairs to the office.

She was still sleeping, peacefully, looking incredibly pretty while doing so. He sat down next to her, carefully sliding his arms around her. He planned to pick her up and carry her to bed as well. As soon as he touched her, she fidgeted and slightly opened her eyes.

"huh..? Gintoki -"

He hushed her with a kiss and she closed her eyes again, answering his kiss with a light smile. Gintoki deepened the kiss, nibbled on her lower lip until she let out a silent moan.

"I'm home" he whispered when they parted and smiled. Her tired eyes fell on the clock and she cursed herself.

"Ah shit I slept in, I waited for ya, I wanted t' show ya something." She said sleepily.

"It's fine, I'm sure you had a lot of work today. Did they behave in grannys care?" He asked while stroking her hair.

"I don't know, I wasn't really able t' ask about that. I had a lot of paperwork t'day and she was also busy when I came to pick them up.."

"You should really stop working that much, you don't even have time for yourself anymore. That's not healthy" Gintoki played with one of her loose strands of hair.

"And you're t' lazy, we couldn't even pay the rent if I would rely on ya working ambitions" She pulled the hair out of his hand.

"You don't need money to be happy" He looked her straight into her eyes, his fingers still moving as if the hair was still there.

"You need money to feed your kids." She retorted. True.

"You don't even need to work that much, you have enough money." He sighed.

"I don't do it for the money" Tsukuyo whispered.

".. I know" Lazily, he ran his hand across her back, resting his head on her shoulder. She hummed satisfied.

"What did you wanted to show me anyways?" He asked after a few minutes, sitting up straight.

"oh.. nothing special. I bought something." She replied sleepily, shifting the blanket, revealing a lacy nightgown and a set of new lingerie he hadn't seen before. Critical Hit.

They didn't really had the opportunities anymore for some sexy time alone, so sometimes he felt like a little cherry boy, when she flashed him in the most unexpected places. His head turned bright red and strained, he looked in another direction, avoiding to meet her seducing gaze.

"We.. uh.. we can do that on the weekend. How - how does that sound?" Gintoki stuttered and she lifted a hand to run it across his neck. She's tired, she needs to sleep and not some endless hours filled with pleasure given to her by the best lover in the whole town. But if she didn't stop now, he would end up making her another child.

"No, I want.. now.." She yawned again and closed her tired eyes, while she guided one of his hands to her chest. He still had his head turned away from her, but his eyes peeked at her. It took all his willpower to withdraw his hand from her chest and place it on her back.

"Let's get you to bed as well" He picked her up, carefully covering up the corrupting clothes with the blanket and carried her into their bedroom. When he placed her on the futon, she already snored lightly. Gintoki undressed himself and laid down next to her, pulling her into his arms. Her sweet scent clouded his mind and she hummed slightly. Not long after, he drifted into a deep sleep.

I think I reached a lot.

If you don't have a past, you can't have a future.

[monsterlovinghours]

I'm feeling very soft for Angel!Dewey and I was wondering if I could get some soft/romantic stuff from the fluffy boy. Maybe a soft, wine drunk, s/o because am I projecting? No! If you feel like tossing incubeej in there you know how I feel about poly but don't feel pressured

*spongebob narrator voice* one thousand years later...

The rain that pattered and tapped against the glass panes of the semi-open window didn't match the rhythm and tempo of the gentle music he had put on for her, but it didn't deter her from dancing, from holding out her hands and insistently tugging him to his feet to dance along with her. Dewey Finn didn't dance, at least not in any way that could be considered "good," but the call of her embrace was too sweet to ignore, and with her tipsy on good wine, she would barely notice if all he did was sway with her in his arms. It was warm here in her kitchen, the only light coming from the various scented candles she'd strewn around the counters and his own golden aura. There was hardly a sight he loved more than to see his halo reflected in her eyes, even if they were a little hazy. It had been a long week-a long month, if he were being honest-and he had all but forced her to take a night off, to let him take care of her and relax. At first, she had balked, insisting that she didn't need to be taken care of, that she wasn't some delicate flower on the verge of wilting, but Dewey had assured her that taking a break wasn't a sign of weakness, that letting yourself be cared for didn't mean you couldn't take care of yourself. Finally, she had relented, though it had taken her a while to actually relax enough to let go and enjoy herself as Dewey showered her with affection and tenderness, pampered her and wouldn't let her lift a finger for herself the entire evening.

As always seemed to be the case with humans, food helped ease her anxiety, dinner brought in from her favorite place. That seemed to be the final blow to her barriers, though the wine didn't hurt. Fed and tipsy, she had crawled into his lap and asked him for music, and he had had to stretch out the tips of his wings to knock the needle onto the spinning record. Slow love songs filled the room, and while he was expecting her to start theatrically gagging as she usually did when such music was played, she only snuggled closer, pushing her face into the side of his neck and humming softly. Dewey sang the bits he knew in her ear-admittedly, love songs weren’t his forte, and he wasn’t as well-versed as he perhaps ought to have been. Still, she didn’t seem to notice when he stumbled over a lyric here and there, and soon began to unfurl herself from his lap to get to her feet and dance. Which is where they found themselves now. 

She kissed him, her lips tasting of wine and warmth, lingering against his as her fingers wove into the curls at the nape of his neck, sending the lightest of shivers down his spine. There was no way she could fully know the effect she had on him; how could she? The lightest scratch of her fingernails on his skin felt as monumental as the cosmic match struck to light the universe's very first star, the hum of her sleep-heavy voice in his ear like the thrum of macrocosmic gravity. Though her life was fleeting and his unending, when he was in her arms, Dewey couldn't help but feel made anew, an infant universe wrapped in the embrace of its creator. She was stars and void and infinity and unfathomable space contained in flesh and blood. How could his clumsy tongue possibly find the grace to tell her this?

Instead, he kissed her back, pressing forward as his hands slid into her waist, palms pulsing warm against her skin as they slipped beneath her shirt to press against her back. The worn vinyl tile of the kitchen floor creaked beneath them as they swayed to the music, until her mouth broke from his and her head drooped onto his shoulder. Her body felt pleasantly heavy in his arms, her lashes brushing against his neck as her eyes fluttered shut, trusting him to hold her upright. Smiling tenderly, he gathered her close, drowsy protests and all, and carried her back into the living room. By the time he had them settled on the couch, her body folded comfortably in his lap, she was asleep, breath deep and even and untroubled.

They hadn't moved an inch when a shift in air pressure announced the return of the third member of their living arrangement, eyes glowing faintly in the semi-darkness as his tail twitched at his side, fangs exposed in a smile at the sight that greeted him. Beetlejuice could smell the alcohol lingering in her bloodstream, heard the reassuring, steady thudding of her heartbeat, and a gentle, loving purr rumbled in his chest at the sight of her curled up so sweetly in the angel's arms. 

"Ain't that cute?"

Dewey smiled back at the incubus, stroking a strand of hair off of her forehead. "Wine knocked her out," he whispered as Beetlejuice crossed the room to kneel in front of them. It didnt escape his attention that Dewey's grip didnt tighten instinctively as he drew nearer, as it certainly would have earlier in their arrangement. The angel would likely deny it if asked, but after months of living and loving alongside what was meant to be his adversary, he had grown to trust and even become fond of the semi-feral demon. Beetlejuice ran his fingers down her arm, his chilled touch leaving goosebumps across her skin even in her sleep. 

“You think she’ll be waking up anytime soon? I’m starved.”

Unable to hold back a soft snort, Dewey shook his head. “Of course you are. No, I think she’s down for the count.”

Despite his apparent hunger, the demon didn’t seem to be upset at being unable to access his most convenient food source. “Ah well. S’pose we should get her to bed.” He reached out to pull her gently from Dewey’s embrace, and his tail curled in satisfaction when the angel released her without complaint. He followed quietly as the demon carried her into the bedroom, settling her among the pile of soft pillows and tugging a blanket over her still form. She had barely stirred or made a sound, so deep asleep beneath the safety of her lover’s watch. Beetlejuice straightened, and for a moment, the two just stood and watched her, watched the minute rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the subtle tremor of body with each gentle heartbeat. Then the demon broke the silence, murmuring gently.

“We’re a couple lucky sons of bitches, you know?”

Dewey couldn’t help a smile at that. “We are,” he readily agreed. He sighed, then glanced up at Beetlejuice, whose green-hued hair was beginning to dull a shade or two, a sure sign of impending starvation. “So you’re just gonna go hungry?”

A smile of a different sort curled on the incubus’s mouth, fangs catching the low light as his eyes pulsed with a greenish glow, the tips of his horns and the roots of his hair fading into a suggestive magenta. “I didn’t say that. You’re not planning on going anywhere tonight, are you, twinkle-toes?”

A flush crept from his ears to his cheeks and down his neck as he slowly shook his head. Beetlejuice grinned and pointedly let his long, striped tongue curl around one of his fangs, licking his teeth with a low, grating purr. “Perfect. Out in the living room, and be quiet about it. Don’t wanna wake Sleeping Beauty, do we?”

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (10/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9]

The play wasn't horrible by any stretch of the imagination. It was the most fun Clarke had had in a long time. She laughed so hard at parts that tears sprung to her eyes and her cheeks started to hurt by the end of it. The 1920s décor and costumes were stunning, the performances captivating, and the story the perfect balance between humor and social commentary. Even Lexa, who already knew the jokes and twists, still laughed loudly.

Clarke took as much joy from the sound as she did the play. When the curtain fell for the last time and the lights fully came on, she looked over at Lexa and found herself captivated. Lexa was still clapping for her cousin’s success, her face beaming with pride, and Clarke couldn’t really explain why it made her adore this woman so much more.

"Are you hungry?" Lexa asked her.

Clarke nodded mutely, unsure what to do with the intensity of her feelings. She let Lexa take her hand and lead her out of the theater, where the crowd spilled out of the great glass doors.

Cocoa Street was the longest street in Costial, cutting through the city in a curving fashion. Clarke's favorite part was the food trucks; rows of them on both sides with their own specialties and flair. You could very well order duck à l'orange with mashed pumpkin at one truck and a burger with fries at the next one. The Italian ice cream truck was between the rival crab cake trucks and the Noodle Brothers were right next to the Pizza Sisters. There were lines wherever you went, sometimes even street performers to soften the blow of the waiting time. It was absurd and it was wonderful.

They ate Chicago-style hot dogs and curly fries, slowly walking down the street as they laughed about the play. Lincoln had relied on alternate history to weave the visions into his tale, using them for comedic effect in the more dramatic beats. A secondary character had one in the middle of a monologue, suddenly passing out while a crowd rushed over to him. The visions were reenacted with tricks of light and masked characters, reminiscent of interpretive dances.

"Okay, I have to ask," Clarke brought up while they meandered down the street. "The castle on the hill - that's the Polis Hotel, right?"

Lexa nodded. "Lincoln has a complicated relationship with his heritage, to say the least. He's keenly aware growing up in a luxury hotel was a great privilege, but it also messed with his head. He basically shared a home with thousands of strangers for eighteen years."

"I'd always admired Polis from afar, but I can't imagine growing up there. Don't get me wrong, that was one hell of a party, but-"

"It's not a place for a kid," Lexa finished, in agreement.  

Clarke ate the last bite of her chocolate waffle and threw the paper in the trash. “You must be pretty familiar with it.”

Lexa glanced at her and smiled. "The cat and I go back."

"Right. That night was a bit intense, even for you."

Lexa let out a laugh, looking away with a hum. "You know, you make me sound quite strange."

Clarke bumped her shoulder. "You pinned me against the staircase - you are strange."

"I didn't… pin you," Lexa replied with a huff. "I was drunk, high off an excellent game of poker… and I saw you. And I needed to be close to you."

Clarke stopped them in the street, grateful they'd left the busy part. "And the Gazette?"

“What about it?”

"You offered me a side job. Just like that."

"Oh," Lexa remembered. "I genuinely thought you'd be good at it. Still do. Your style would be perfect."

That was surprising, but Clarke wasn't convinced. "It wasn't because of your vision?"

"It was a way to talk to you, yes, but I meant it. I know the visions were… well, the reason for this, that they nudged us together, but I'd noticed you drawing before."

They walked a bit further before Clarke took a small breath. "I, uh, may have looked at the pages in older prints."

Lexa glanced at her. "And?"

"It could be fun. I'm just not sure-" Clarke scrunched her nose. "I'm just so rusty. Art is what I got into college for, but then I took up business classes and… I don't know, it just felt so much easier. Don't get me wrong, managing the café kicks my ass every day, but I like the challenges. With drawings, paintings, whatever… it feels like putting your heart on the line each time. And nine times out of ten, your heart ends up getting trampled."

Lexa took her hand to stop her. "I would never suggest you do something that makes you uncomfortable. If it's truly just a hobby to you, a way to pass the time, you should keep it that way."

It wasn't like Clarke hadn't considered it. Drawing, sketching; it came as naturally as breathing. She'd done it since she could hold a pencil and she still did it whenever the world became too loud. It was an escape; a different way of thinking. Her own little world. Illustrating short stories could be a welcome breath of fresh air. A way for her brain to snap away from bills, calls, deliveries, and the hundreds of post-its in her tiny office.

"And for the record," Lexa added as she stepped closer, her voice impossibly soft, "I would very much stand in the way of whoever or whatever would try to trample you."

Clarke grinned, very much aware that, not so long ago, these were not words she could have ever imagined Lexa Woods telling her.  

* * *

As she had the last time, Lexa insisted that she walk Clarke back to her apartment. After a night full of laughs, great food, and Lexa's hand in hers, Clarke still didn't have her fill and so didn't tease Lexa too much for also wanting to enjoy every last second. When they made it to her door, Clarke turned around and leaned against it. Tonight couldn't end here.

"By the way, you were wrong earlier. My vision isn't the reason for this." Clarke waited a beat before playing her last hand: "It's not the vision I thought about that night after the rooftop."

Lexa's mouth parted open and she glanced at Clarke's lips.

"I was going to," Clarke continued, "but it didn't hold a candle to how you made me feel when you grabbed my hand."

Lexa swallowed when Clarke reached for her jacket to tug her closer. "How did I make you feel?"  

Clarke pulled her in until their foreheads touched. "Warm. Dizzy."

"Dizzy on a rooftop? That's a safety hazard."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you trying to make me laugh?"

"They're not mutually exclusive."

They broke into laughter anyway. Lexa leaned in to kiss her, only to stop just as their lips brushed.

"You never told me about your vision," Lexa pointed out. "Not… not exactly."

Clarke smiled, smug. "Oh you want details, hm?"

"I'm a journalist. A thorough account would be nice, yes."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her before crushing their lips together, unbelievably pleased when Lexa moaned and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Shut up, journo," Clarke husked between kisses.

Lexa kissed her with little restraint then, moving until Clarke was pressed against the door. Each one of Lexa's kisses felt like something special; like finally she'd shed her old fears. Clarke didn't even want to think of not being close to Lexa right now. The night couldn't end - not like this. She pulled back and gazed at Lexa, trying to catch her breath.

This close, Clarke could commit to memory every detail of her face. She'd always thought she got a good look at Lexa at the café, even with the counter between them, but it was nothing compared to this. Lexa's lips were full and at their most tempting when slightly parted, betraying her own desire. Her eyes were hooded now, longing, and Clarke had little doubt hers reflected the same want. She threw caution to the wind:

"Come inside?"

Lexa hesitated, visibly torn.

"We don't have to do anything. I have a nice wine we can try. Some of Gus's tartlets left over. We can even sit with the box between us. I just… I don't want tonight to be over yet."

* * *

It was not what she'd had in mind. She swore it. Nevertheless, when Clarke found herself straddling Lexa on her living room couch with the box of tartlets discarded on the floor (the tartlets well finished by then), she couldn't remember why the hell not.

Maybe the air had already been too charged by the time she wiped her thumb over Lexa's lip to catch a crumb there, and maybe Clarke had liked playing with fire, but now she was well on her way to being burned. Lexa's hands palmed her ass while they kissed, but it was the boldest she allowed herself to be and Clarke was quickly reaching her breaking point.

"Touch me," she pleaded between kisses.

Lexa let out a choked moan when Clarke reached for her hand and guided it to her breasts. She paused, looking up. The green in her eyes had darkened, especially in the dim light, and she breathed deeply.

"Clarke…"

"I know, I know, just - something. Anything." Clarke leaned her forehead against Lexa's. "I feel like a fucking teenager."

Lexa let out a small laugh before kissing her sweetly, slowly. It had the soothing effect she had intended, and before Clarke realized it, Lexa had lied her down on her back. She hovered over her, then looked down at her cleavage and pressed her lips against the exposed skin.

"Is that better?" She asked.

"Close…"

Lexa let out a hum against her skin, pressing another kiss lower. Clarke brushed her fingers in Lexa's thick hair, digging just slightly in her scalp, surprised when Lexa let out a small moan and then froze with wide eyes, like Clarke had just found her secret.

"Oh," Clarke breathed out, her smile widening. She repeated the gesture, pressing her fingers just a bit harder.

Lexa immediately grabbed her hands and pinned them down on each side of Clarke's head.

"Don't do that," she warned her, breathless.

Clarke smirked. "I think I will."

"It was just a reflex," Lexa blushed. "It's been a while."

Clarke couldn't help but laugh, happiness bubbling in her chest at how comfortable she felt with Lexa's body slotted between her legs. "Well, I'm very happy to find out whatever draws out those sounds from you."

Lexa seemed to realize just how close they were, locked together with their fingers entwined. And just like the rooftop when she'd suddenly grabbed her hand, her expression changed. Confident. Eager.

She sat back, eyes trailing down Clarke's body before she let go of her hands to touch her thighs.

"You like control, don't you, Clarke?" She asked. She ran her hands up her thighs, caressing them slowly. "But not now."

Clarke nearly lost her breath, not expecting the way Lexa had shifted so quickly from embarrassed to self-assured. She watched as Lexa drank her in, from her bunched up dress to the fast rise and fall of her chest.

"Touch yourself," Lexa told her, and then leaned down to brush her lips against hers. "The way you did after the rooftop."

"Lexa-"

"I want to watch you."

Clarke nodded, her hand trailing down her own body to the bottom of her dress. Lexa watched as she reached beneath the fabric, eager to follow her command. She slid her hand beneath her tights, beneath her underwear, moaning at the relief when she finally touched herself. She knew Lexa could feel her heat; knew they were both reaching a point of no return. It had started when Lexa had kissed her at the start of their date, but Lexa's hands on her ass while they'd kissed had awakened her completely.

Lexa briefly glanced between their bodies, groaning when she saw Clarke's hand moving.

"Is this how you did it?" She asked. "Two fingers?"

Clarke let out an obscene moan, too far gone to care. "Three," she whimpered.

Lexa's jaw clenched, but her control was remarkable. "Did you imagine it on the rooftop? Me inside you against that wall?"

Clarke's eyes squeezed shut as she bit down on her lip. "Yes. Fuck."

She swiped her fingers over her clit, but the angle and her tights restricted most of her movements. She was fairly certain Lexa knew it. Lexa leaned down again, kissing her neck.

"How did I fuck you?" She asked by her ear, one hand reaching up to lightly brush against her breast.

Clarke panted, fighting the unbearable need to penetrate herself. She needed release, and fast, but a part of her was too stubborn to give in just yet.

"You pressed me against the wall," she revealed, burying her face in Lexa's neck. With her free hand, she dug her nails in Lexa's ass, feeling a thrill when Lexa bucked against her. "And then- I… I needed more. I needed you deeper."

"So I turned you around," Lexa guessed, squeezing her nipple over the fabric of her dress.

"I- oh, fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about you inside me; how well you'd fill me," Clarke said, her middle finger trembling from the angle, desperate to inch inside herself.

"Jesus, Clarke," Lexa breathed out in the space between her neck and shoulder. Her lips felt like heaven against her skin. Clarke couldn't get enough.

"Clarke," Lexa repeated, raising her head. "Look at me." It was softer then, more of a plea.

Clarke opened her eyes and felt her movements slow down. It was like experiencing déjà-vu, except of course that was impossible. They'd never done this. But she suddenly realized it had all started here. She'd had her vision on this very couch and here she was - not fulfilling it, exactly, but close. Yet what she'd seen and even felt had never been like this. It had been purely physical - an erotic thrill in her otherwise predictable life. But she hadn't felt her heart beating out of her chest. She'd had a sense it was more intimate than what she was used to, but hadn't been able to quite grasp what that meant. She knew now. Their intensity wasn't so much physical as it was emotional.

She felt safe with Lexa. They still had so much to learn about each other, but she felt safe. And Clarke had never realized the importance of it. Lexa had trusted her with her pain and her heart - that wasn't something Clarke took lightly. It was a feeling not even her vision could have conveyed.

"Fuck, wait, wait, stop," she abruptly panted, pulling her hand out of her underwear.

Lexa backed away immediately, but Clarke sat up to stop her from moving off the couch.

"Lexa, I… I want to be with you," she said, as if remembering her vision had suddenly clarified everything. "When you're ready, I want to be with you completely."

"I want that too." Lexa still seemed confused, or maybe surprised Clarke had done the equivalent of dunking ice cold water atop her own head.

“Right. And - this is fun. I-” Clarke’s eyes briefly closed as she bit her lip. “Fuck I really want to get off-”

Lexa smiled.

“-but not like this.” Clarke reached out to cup her cheeks. “Not without you.” She kissed Lexa briefly, barely a brush of lips, and watched as her eyes followed her every move so tenderly. “Not if I don’t get to touch you too.”

"Clarke…"

Clarke shook her head, kissing her way down Lexa's jaw and neck. "Not if I can't see all of you. Can't hear you moan my name." She licked over Lexa's pulse, enjoying the way her hips bucked against her. "Not if I can't taste you while you come undone."

Lexa pulled back and brushed away some of Clarke's wild strands of hair. "Such words… You should be a journalist."

"I hear they have egos."

"Oh yes, terrible."

"I'm glad I found one that's not so bad then."

They smiled at each other, then took a breath.

"Sorry," Clarke sighed. "I feel like I'm the one giving you whiplash now."

"No, it's only fair. If anything I admire your restraint."

Clarke leaned back against the arm of the couch. "Maybe you'll just have to work harder next time."

Lexa smirked. "I can do that." She glanced at her breasts. "At least I made new friends."

Clarke let out a laugh, enamored. "Alright, well, you and my tits can pick up this conversation another time. I need a shower and if you're not gone in two minutes, I'm definitely dragging you in with me."

Lexa hummed in agreement.

After Clarke walked her to the entrance and watched Lexa put on her shoes and jacket, they lingered in the doorway.

"Thank you for tonight," Clarke said. She had never felt like this before - a part of her desperate to find a way for Lexa to stay. A way to prolong the conversation. To ward off the night so that Lexa and her could just live in this moment a while longer. "The play, the food, this… Everything."

She hoped Lexa felt the same.

"Trust me, it was my pleasure," Lexa replied, her face still slightly flushed.

"You've set the bar high."

"You took me to a secret hike. I was just trying to catch up."

At Clarke's smile, Lexa bit her lip and toyed with the button of her jacket. "Anya used to say I reacted to everything with either fight or flight. I didn't prove her wrong when I left for Costial, but I don't want to run away again."

Clarke nodded in understanding.

“It just… creeps up on me sometimes,” Lexa continued. “I could be having the time of my life one second and the next my chest gets tighter and the world gets smaller. Suffocating.” She gave her a resolute look. “When I meant slow, I meant… I just need to be sure that feeling won’t come between us again." She glanced at her lips. "But… It also means that once we do cross that line, I intend to make up for lost time.”

Clarke swallowed, fighting the urge to drag Lexa back inside. "I'm a patient woman."

Lexa smiled. "Goodnight, Clarke."

"Mm. Text me when you get home?"

"I will."

-

[part eleven]

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 39 Pt 2

“Liam, Finn, bath or shower please.” He said as he walked past them to stand outside her office door. He waited until the twins were in the other room before tapping on the door. It had suddenly become very quiet in there. “Sildie?” He opened the door further and the sight broke his heart. She sat on the floor slumped against the bookshelf full of her brothers books. Broken, he thought, this had broken something inside her, crushed her. He crouched in front of her, those silent tears tracking down her cheeks, eyes vacantly staring ahead like he wasn’t even there. Those eyes of ice blue focused on him as his knuckles brushed the tears away. “Come back to me love, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“She took it.” She sobbed, those sobs that made no sound, just jerked her body relentlessly.

“I know love, I’m sorry.”

“It shouldn’t matter it’s just a stupid charm, but it does matter. It was mine, from Quinn, and she took it.” Even her voice sounded broken, defeated.

“Who were you yelling at on the phone?” He asked carefully.

“Public prosecutor. I’ll owe him an apology tomorrow, but I can’t really seem to find a fuck to give right now.” This wasn’t like her, he thought, to lash out like this.

“Why were you yelling at him?” He asked trying to get a handle of what was going on.

“She’s being arraigned tonight and I told him to deny bail. He didn’t like it when I told him how to do his job and didn’t give a shit about his opinion.”

“She’s going to get bail isn’t she?” He felt his gut plummet.

“Highly likely even though she’s a fucking flight risk.” She spat. “She’ll worm her way out of this too no doubt.”

“How could she when they caught her right there?” He struggled to keep his temper under control and his voice even.

“Two words. Prove. It.” She held up a finger at a time to emphasize her words. “She was just sitting in her car. Unless they find evidence on her or in the car she’ll walk for that. I’m hoping her hands are covered in red paint, or there’s at least some on her that they can match to the car, or a fingerprint. Fucking anything at this point. The drugs they found on the other hand...”

“Drugs they found?” He cut in, eyebrow shooting up.

“A substantial amount packed ready for a long drive, probably to a buyer. If they can prove it was going over the border they can get her on trafficking. The kicker is they’ll cut her a deal to get the buyer and she’ll walk.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snapped. She could see his fury get the better of him for a moment before he reeled it back in.

“I wish I was.” Her voice barely there.

“Leon said they’d charge her with everything he could to keep her locked up.” He continued and he felt his anger surge forward and banked it, hard. No, he thought, he couldn’t be angry at Sildie, none of this was her fault, but damn he wanted to rage at someone. Now he understood why she’d done exactly that at the poor souls on the other end of the phone.

“He did, I was yelling at Leon earlier about that too.” She sighed, she was so fucking tired now the adrenaline had crashed. “The vandalism charges will stick, but that will only carry a fine, the restraining orders will bite her in the ass because I had the kids with me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know where or if Elias fits into all this, Dana’s family. I’m tired Gustaf, and I’m just so fucking done.”

“You call Elsa?” He asked gently.

“She was my first call.” Scrubbing a hand over her face she stood, not able to keep still anymore. “Those violations carry a heavier punch, but it may not be enough if the prosecution decides to go after whoever she’s moving drugs for. Apparently the safety of our family means fuck all when catching a drug runner is on the table. It’ll come down to which judge we end up with and how the prosecutor goes after her.”

“What a fucking mess.” He sighed getting to his feet to stand in front of her, fingers combing through her hair.

“That’s a fucking understatement.” She snorted.

“What’s going on love? There’s something deeper here.” He asked softly. She stared at him, that flash of irritation in her eyes her only warning, don’t push. “Talk to me, please. It’s not like you to just lose your shit like this at people.” He was concerned. He’d take it if she raged at him, at least she wouldn’t be bottling it up.

“I’m reconsidering my current career path. As in today made me so angry and sick at the system I swore an oath to uphold, I’m reconsidering my career as a lawyer.” Which was the truth. She was going to watch Ana slide on so much shit it had her questioning her own ethics, her own identity as an attorney.

He expected a bombshell, but not quite one of this magnitude. “Sildie.” He breathed softly.

“How can I uphold the law when it turns around and screws you? Sure, I knew this sort of thing happened well before I passed the bar, but today just kicked me in the fucking teeth with it.” She was gutted, felt as if her whole existence was somehow all a lie. “Nothing I do is fucking good enough to keep her away from us, from the kids.” She started to wind up again and he let her, she needed to be heard and get it out of her system. “I couldn’t even keep Elias away. She fucking told him where we’d moved to. He was knocking on our door.” She gestured the space between them. “Our door Gustaf, not my old apartment door which is listed on the restraining order. Our home.” Her voice cracked and it broke his heart in two. “She fucking sent him here to hurt me to get to you, to accomplish...” She wheezed a breath and sucked it in. “I just can’t do this anymore.” She keened. “I can’t keep throwing everything I have at it and...” Her breath wheezed as she focused on not passing out.

“Breathe love.” He said tenderly. “Had this been someone else would it be the same outcome?” He asked urging her to come closer, to seek the comfort she knew he’d give her.

“Yes.” She choked, trying to regulate her breathing.

“You’re a good lawyer Sildie, don’t let her win by throwing that away and second guessing who you are.” He tugged her into his arms, felt the hesitation, as if her presence would somehow taint him, hurt him. “Together.” He murmured as his arms wrapped around her, cocooning her into him. “Breathe love.” He kissed her temple and lingered. “Just breathe.”

“I’m sorry I lost my shit earlier.” She mumbled into his chest, steadier breaths relaxing her shoulders. The warmth of him, his scent soothing the raw edges of her fury that still simmered.

“You had every right to lose it.” He kissed her temple as she held onto him, the soft knock at the door causing her to tense.

“The twins are in bed ready for a story.” Brendan said softly. “Apparently I don’t cut it.” He chuckled and Sildie snorted a laugh.

“You do just fine love.” She said and pulled away from Gustaf to hug the teen. “Thanks for taking care of them today in the parking lot.” The kid shrugged as if to say no big deal.

“Come on B, let’s go read some Harry.” Gustaf sighed as he headed out, squeezing Sildie’s shoulder as he walked past. He knew there was more to this conversation.

She watched them go and breathed out slowly, she was beat to hell and riding on that seething hatred she didn’t know she could ever feel more acutely. It had hit her hard, but she knew it had hit Gustaf harder, he’d buried it for her but it was there, a rage so volatile she wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it if he let it loose. Maybe the trip away would give them both time and space to hash it out. Sitting at her desk she emailed Lindstrom to engage his services, she had to prepare for that fight if it came, whether it was her or Gustaf in the hot seat, she’d be ready, because she just knew Ana would find some way to turn this around even if it was just to twist the knife in Gustaf a little more. And if she followed what her gut instinct was telling her, Ana would use Elias to do it. She would use him to inflict as much pain on Gustaf as she could. “How are you going to do it though?” She muttered under her breath. “That’s the sixty four million dollar question.”

He got the twins settled and sat with Brendan to ease his own mind more than anything. The kids were safe, he reassured himself, Lily tucked into bed fast asleep, the twins, B, all safe. He went into more detail with Brendan about Ana, the cliff notes version. The kids quite “that’s fucked up” making him chuckle before he agreed with the teen.

Lighting some candles in the bathroom he filled the tub, they both needed to soak and relax, Sildie more so. She was starting to distance herself, not just from him, but the kids too, and that wasn’t a good sign. With the bath full he found her in her office furiously typing, her voice as she spoke barely held restraint of the fury still simmering.

“Thanks, yes I’ll send those through as soon as I get them processed.” She hung up and ignored him, plowing through her next task. She had closed her emotions and herself off to everyone.

“Sildie.”

“One sec, I just have to electronically file these and I’ll be done for the night.” Her voice was clipped, she was on the verge of tears yet that lawyer surfaced to contain the anger she was still riding. There’s my lawyer, he thought. Strong, wicked smart, and doesn’t take any crap. My goddess in the storm.

Once the paperwork was filed she sat back and blew out a breath, hands spread out in surrender at her laptop.

“Enough for tonight love.” He said gently and closed the laptop before holding his hand out for hers. “Let it be done now.” She eyed his hand and he waited, don’t shut me out love, he pleaded silently, please.

After a long pause, when she felt she could keep it together a moment longer, she took his hand. It was then she noticed the soft jazz playing in the living room drifting to her. He pulled her to her feet and tucked her in to dance, the gentle sway and strong arms holding her making her breath shudder out. “Let it out love.” His low timbre soothed her, the tears falling of their own volition. “It hit you hard didn’t it?” All she could do was nod through the soft sobs. “Me too, I was so worried she’d hurt you, hurt the kids.”

“You’re angry.” She said simply.

“I’m beyond angry.” He kissed her temple lingering, breathing in the scent of her hair, of her. “Livid comes close, murderous is closer still. I don’t think there are words invented yet to describe it.”

“I’m sorry I scared you when I phoned. I didn’t want to call you but knew you’d be pissed if I didn’t.” The sob escaping before she could contain it. “I wanted to protect you from it, protect that peace you’d found. She has no right to take that from you again.”

“Sildie I’m not angry with you love.” He said softly and held her tighter. “I’m glad you called me and yes I would have been pissed if you hadn’t. We do this together. Stronger together remember.” He hooked a finger under her chin and kissed her tenderly when her eyes met his. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I don’t know what to feel. I’m angry and sad and terrified all rolled into one.”

“Be all three, just don’t shut me out.” He kissed her gently.

“I’m not, I’m just... I’m trying not to completely fall apart.”

“My love.”

“I felt something break inside me today when I saw the car.” She sniffed, the tears flowing freely. “It’s one thing after another Gustaf and I just can’t keep dealing with more shit on top of everything else we’re trying to balance. This is hard enough with the kids, us, our careers.” He kissed her brow as she let it flood out of her.

“Breathe love.” He said gently as he heard the tell tale wheeze of her anxiety starting to gain the upper hand again. She did, his scent tangling around her senses and knocking her stress levels down a few notches. “Come with me, I have a bath ready for you, come and soak. No more thinking tonight, switch it off, we’re all safe. You’ve done everything you can love, and more.” She didn’t speak, just nodded her head and followed him. “It’s just a car.”

“But it was the car you bought me.” She said quietly. Turning to her he kissed her tenderly.

“And I’ll buy you another one if this one can’t be repaired. There are more precious things in life to me than that car Sildie, you and the kids for starters.” He kissed her brow. “You’re safe and unharmed, that’s all that matters.”

Once in the bathroom he helped her undress and made sure she was up to her neck in hot water before heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea. The knock at the door had him grinding his teeth. “For fuck sake.” He swore and stormed over to see Leon on the screen. Unlocking the door he tried not to let his annoyance show.

“Not to be a complete asshole Leon, but we’re kind of wrung out from today.”

Leon held up his hand. “I understand I just wanted to drop this off.” In his hand was Sildie’s charm. “I tried to scrub off as much of the red paint from it, but I though she’d want it as soon as possible.”

Gustaf felt his emotions choke him and he really did feel like an asshole now. “Thank you.” He breathed. “You have no idea what this will mean to her.”

“She doing ok?” Leon asked gently.

Gustaf shook his head. “It broke her today. This was the last straw. She’s been trying to deal with the grief and move forward, put it all in its place. Then with Ana and Elias on top of it. She’s at her absolute limit of additional bullshit.”

“I get it. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Just wanted her to have it back straight away.” Leon said quickly. “I’ll get the hockey mask back as soon as possible.”

“I appreciate it, this will help.” He blew out a breath, the relief flooding him as he weighed the charm in his hand before clenching it in his fist.

“I’ll keep you posted, and let Sildie know I got her paperwork and I’ve filed it already, Lindstrom and Elsa sent me a ton of stuff too.” He said fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “She’ll know what I mean.” He added seeing Gustaf’s puzzled look.

“Thanks Leon.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

He looked at the charm in his hand, the bright blue ribbon stained an ugly reddish brown. Feeling that rage rise, he breathed and calmed his mind, he was better than this, Sildie deserved better from him. Locking the door he walked back to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, scraping at the paint on the silver Celtic knot, he’d get it cleaned and restrung for her, fix it up as best as he could.

The soft stroke of her arm had her eyes fluttering open, her mind for the most part blissfully blank, she was wiped.

“Tea for you love.” He said kneeling and placing the cup on the tiles. “Lavender and thyme.”

“You’re too good to me.” She smiled softly. “You coming in?”

“In a little bit. I need to go work the bag, clear my head.” He kissed her, those lips soft and sweet. “I’m not shutting you out, I’ll talk after, I just need to get it out, take the edge off.” He added and kissed her tenderly.

“Ok.” Her wet hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into it before he turned his head and kissed her palm. “I love you, you’re stronger than her.”

“I know, so are you love.”

“Go do what you need to do, then come soak with me.” She said softly.

“If you’re not asleep by then.” He chuckled, that warm, sleepy smile on her face.

“But you like it when I’m all warm and soft and sleepy.” Her words slurring.

“I do.” He kissed her again and chuckled as she sighed and sank back up to her neck in the water. “I love you Sildie.”

“Love you too sweet man.” She mumbled.

Shutting the door to his workout room he breathed out a forced breath, shucked his clothes, and donned the shorts. Strapping on the gloves forcefully he let the afternoon flood in, fast and furious, he wanted to feel every ounce of that anger and rip it from his being. He struck hard and quick, the brutal punches landing so solidly that the shockwave rippled up his arms, bones and joints singing. As he unleashed, he brought the sight of Sildie’s face when he stepped out of the car into his mind, lost, shattered, broken.

“How fucking dare you.” He growled as he hammered the bag. “You want to come after me, then come after me you fucking coward ass bitch, but you don’t get to lash out at her. You don’t get to fuck with my woman or my kids.” His hiss fueled his rage, the burst of shackled fury ripping from him. He pounded the bag for nearly an hour, the extreme physical exertion cathartic. When his anxiety snuck up on him he dropped to his knees and sucked in a breath. “They’re safe, just breathe, it’s done now. It’s enough.” Leaning his forehead against the bag he let it roll off him, breathing through it. Stripping the gloves off he sat for meditation, that would help him more now, he needed to find that calm before he could help Sildie. There would be more tears tonight before they slept and he needed to be the man she deserved, the man she could lean on, depend on.

He smiled as he walked into their bathroom after checking on the kids. She was nearly asleep, eyes closed, drifting. After rinsing off in the shower, he drained out some of the water and refilled the tub, her eyes watching his every move.

“You look very comfortable there love.” He chuckled as he climbed in and sat at the other end of the tub so he could stretch out.

“Iyam.” Her smile was sleepy.

He reached out his ridiculously long arms and hit the button for the jets, her groan of pleasure made him laugh.

“I always forget about those and how good they feel.” She sighed. Pulling her feet into his lap those clever fingers rubbed her foot, thumbs digging into the arch. “If you stop, I may have to...” His low growled chuckle send a shiver of arousal through her. How did he do that to her, she wondered? How, after such a craptastic day could he make her feel like a queen, his queen, his goddess?

“Have to what love?” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I don’t know, I can’t think.”

“Good, your not supposed, no more thinking.” His tone that low timbre she adored.

His hands were magic as they kneaded the stress from her feet, her calves, and worked their way up her thighs until he was sitting between them, her legs resting either side of his hips. “You’re nearly alsleep.” He smiled, his eyes finding hers as they fluttered open.

“I’m wiped.” She ran a finger along his jaw before leaning in and kissing him softly. “What time do we leave tomorrow?”

“Whenever we decide to leave. After today we’re not even packed. Let’s sleep and rest, we’ll go when we’re ready. There’s no timetable for the next week and a half.” He kissed her thoroughly, the soft moan making his cock twitch to attention.

“Are you ok?” She asked gently, she felt bad that she’d not checked in with him sooner, too busy having her own epic meltdown.

“I’m better now I’ve got my head around it.” He kissed her sweetly. “Better now that you’re relaxed, and soft, and warm.” Hands at her hips he pulled her into his lap, her legs wrapping around him. “How about you? You ok?” Her slight nod wasn’t all that convincing, but it was a start. “We can’t change what happened love, we can only do so much before it’s out of our hands and in the courts hands. And I know...” He kissed her quickly before she could reply. “I know that it bites you seven ways to Sunday that you can’t fix it, I know that you’re at your limit. But we can’t let her win.”

“I didn’t let her see my reaction, it was only after they took her away and you came that I fell to pieces.” Her voice barely a whisper, ashamed to admit she’d crumbled.

“That’s because you’re so much stronger and smarter than she is love.” He leaned forward and grabbed the charm he’d placed by her teacup when he’d come in. “Leon came over before I hit the bag.” Taking her hand in his he turned it over palm side up and placed the charm inside, closing her fingers over it. “He thought you’d want it back as soon as he could get it out of evidence.”

Opening her hand she saw the Celtic charm her brother gave her, stained with red paint, though someone had tried to clean it.

“When we get back I’ll have it professionally restored and restrung, but I thought you’d want it in the car with us for the trip.” He wiped the tears that fell without permission, the overwhelming relief that it wasn’t lost, a piece of Quinn still remained. “Where it belongs.”

“She took it out of spite.” Her voice was barely there as she stared at it.

“She took it to hurt you, to hurt the kids, and in turn, to hurt me. And it did, she knows I’m a sentimental fool, that I feel everything others feel. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that white hot fury, the barely contained rage.” She was the one person he could talk to about his demons and not feel judged. “A few years ago that scene would have ended every differently, more than likely with myself in cuffs for grievous bodily harm when I found her.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek and kissed her tenderly. “It’s in me Sildie, to do that to another human being.”

“It’s in all of us love. Hell, I even thought about throwing down with her. It was your choice not to act on it, to be the stronger, better person.”

“I’m a better person because of you.” He kissed her again.

“You’re a better person because you choose to be, Gustaf. Giving into your demons is easier than fighting them.” Wet hands cupped his face as she claimed his mouth, devouring it slowly. “I’m proud of you love, for the man you’re trying to become. You work so hard at it, and I’ll protect that at all costs.”

“I love you.” He kissed her tenderly, only deepening it when her hands roamed his chest. “Leon said he’d filed the paperwork you sent?”

“Good, that’s good.” She said absently.

“And that would be why?”

“Complicated. I’m building the case against her and Elias if the link is there. It’s getting everyone on the same page, moving in the same direction. Pulling all the little details together to paint a picture. I’m just waiting for the epiphany. The last piece of the damn puzzle that links you, to Ana, to me, to the drugs, to Elias. Where your family fits in with Eija and Alex, Dana’s family. It’s there I just need to tug the right thread.”

“My wicked smart goddess.” He smiled. “Thank you for fighting for me, my family. You didn’t have to include them but you did, you’re keeping them safe too and that means the world to me Sildie, I don’t have the words.”

“Our family.” She corrected and he saw the steel flicker in her eyes. “They’re my family now too.” There’s my girl, he thought.

“Yes they are.” He let the soft kiss draw her in before claiming her mouth, tongue flicking, teasing, saying come play with me.

She felt him harden, his kiss stealing her thoughts and whisking them away to some unknown box in her mind, buried deep. She set the charm next to her teacup and turned back to him. Tender fingers roamed his chest, over every contour, every dip. His hands gently gripped her ass pulling her closer to slide his cock along her heat. He poised at her entrance, the soft gasp as his tip stretched her.

“You are my everything love.” He murmured, the gently thrust and pull of her hips as he sheathed himself in her soft silken walls.

“Gustaf.” She whimpered, his body pressed against her tightly.

“My Sildie.” He growled, his mouth teased hers as he rocked her hips against his, the deliberately slow movement erotic for both of them. “All mine.” His hands gripped her hips, moving her on and off him as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. They moved together, the slow rhythm, the heat of the bath, the jets bubbling around them, passion and love. Tonight was about compassion, the connection they had and strengthening it, nurturing it. Slipping a hand between them he stroked her clit, her cry into his mouth making him smile. “I love that sound.” He breathed, kissing her softly. “When you’re full with me, riding me.” He circled her clit, the torturous pace bringing her undone. “My goddess.”

“Gustaf, please.” She cried, the tears almost real as she was desperate for release, to feel anything other than the emotional rollercoaster from the day, her hands frantic over his body.

“Go over love, let me feel you.” He felt her peak and gently nipped at her throat as she tossed her head back offering it to him. Her cry as she came was music to his ears, that stunning body tensing around him before she exploded.

She held onto him tightly as her orgasm rocked her to her core, his cock feeling so thick as he continued to take her.“You’re turn.” She sighed, wanting nothing more than to feel him come.

“My Sildie.” He breathed. “My love.” His thrusts were deep and measured as he held her to him tightly, as she rocked in his lap. “Come for me love, take me with you.” It didn’t take much to tip her over the edge again with a soft cry. The clench of her pussy around his cock too much. He came hard, her mouth claiming his as they rode each other into oblivion.

He kissed her tenderly as they caught their breath. “Shall we dry off and go to bed?”

“Mmmmm.” She was so relaxed. “I think you fucked my bones to goo.” She chuckled.

“Took the edge off?” He grinned at her nod.

“I’m all sleepy and relaxed.”

“Good, that’s what we’re aiming for. Out you hop, my ass is almost asleep.” He chuckled and her smile against his lips lightened his heart, maybe the worst of the day was behind them. Fuck he hoped so.

He helped her to her feet, made sure she’d stepped out of the tub without slipping before he pulled the plug and got out himself. Wrapped in a large fluffy towel he drew her close and held her, drying her off. He took the teacups to the kitchen as she checked on the kids before they ended up in bed, all soft and warm.

He held her tenderly, the sudden need to feel her close overwhelming him. The day had finally caught up with him and he needed it to just find its own way out, he was exhausted from keeping his emotions contained. With her head on his chest those fingers moving in lazy patterns, the movement soothing and sensual, he let the tears slip free. “You’re my everything Sildie.” He said softly.

She craned her head back to see the silent tears she knew had started to fall, his lips kissing her brow and lingering. “You’re my everything too.” He had no words just looked at her, fingers raking through her hair to calm himself, willing the tears to stop. She brushed them away, her kiss soft and tender. “You’re enough for me.” She murmured and he nodded. “I won’t let her destroy what we have or what you’ve fought so hard for. I’ll help you find that peace again.”

“You already have love.” He kissed her tenderly. “You’re my home Sildie, you’re my peace.” His kiss seared her lips, all that love he held in his heart for her pouring out. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweet man.”

“We need sleep if we’re going to be up with the kids and drive to the cabin.” He chuckled wanting to get a grip on his emotions and her smile lit up his world.

“We do, but I liked our relaxation time. Or is that classed as playtime?” She giggled and his laugh eased her mind, he hadn’t completely spiraled.

“I liked it too, and I think playtime is more apt.” Squeezing her tight he kissed her again and pulled the covers over them both. “You staying there sprawled all over me?” He quipped.

“Yes. I’m comfy.”

“Me too.” His growl making her giggle again. “Sleep love.”

“You too.” She yawned, the bath time activities doing just what he’d hoped.

He felt her relax and a few breaths later plummet into sleep, complete exhaustion consuming her. “Sleep my love. It’ll look better in the morning with fresh eyes and a change of scenery.” He kissed her hair and breathed her in, refusing to let the events of the day rob him of any more of his hard earned peace. “She’s not worth the effort and I won’t let her win.” He needed to voice it, even if it was just for him to hear. “She doesn’t get to fuck with this.” With Sildie tucked in close he drifted before plunging into sleep with her.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

[kassies-take]

It’s A Luthor’s Life

Summary: Lex Luthor knows everything. Everything besides what is in Lena Luthor’s penthouse.

A/n: I should really get to the requests before I start something new... Too late, I have to right it down before I forget it.

Warning: Isolation, Assurance

Lena Luthor x Reader

Word Count: 2270

After the whole Crisis thing, Lena Luthor hasn’t gotten a break. She went from powerful CEO of L-Corp to second in command to her deranged brother of LuthorCorp. She went from ‘oh I wouldn’t know I never stood behind a man’ to standing behind the worst man possible. She has lost everything she has built towards a good name for the Luthors, ever since the New World kickstarted. It doesn’t help that her own office is invaded and even her lab infested with her brother’s personal belongings and tech. Who the hell does Lex Luthor think he is? 

There is at least still one place the former CEO could go to for sanctuary. Her own penthouse. Her home, which is actually ironic due to the fact that after she ran from letting her mother drown she hasn’t stopped running since. She had tried to make it work in Metropolis, in National City yet that all came back to bite her in the ass. 

The penthouse that was once empty, dull, and colorless. A place she was rarely in before, is now the place she wants to be in the most. Granted it was still empty, dull and colorless but it was at least free from the hands of the cold and dangerous would outside. She made sure it stayed that way. 

Right now the safest place for Lena was in her penthouse. At the moment she was using that to her advantage, she did not want to be found. She was taking a well deserved bath with scented candles and aged wine. The fluttering lights, the warm bath and the beautiful wine was doing wonders on her mind. She could feel the weight on her shoulders disappear, that was until a deafening crash erupted in the silence of her own penthouse. 

The brunette immediately dried herself off, wrapped herself tightly with a long white robe and put on some underwear. She did not need anyone to see her naked glory right now.  

Every scenario the Luthor ran in her mind, did not prepare her to find a young adult. Not to mention a young adult, battered, bruised and bleeding from the obvious glass beneath them. How the “child” managed to get through the window wouldn’t have surprised her if she lived on the first floor, but she was living on the goddamn twenty-third floor. 

The “odd” Luthor immediately looked to the sky as if expecting some alien creature to attack, or even kill, the groaning figure in front of her. Fifteen seconds, thirty, a minute goes by before the woman closes the broken window with a force shield. 

Only then did the lively and noisy city below become muted, but the huffs and puffs amplified from the damaged stranger. 

“No one can know I am here,” the stranger coughed out.

“You need a doctor.”

“I do n-” she was interrupted.

“You are bleeding out on my floor.”

“I’ve been through worse. Luthor assassinations and kidnaps from Cadmus.”

“Who are you?” ‘

“(Y/n) Luthor. CEO of L-Corp and probably paralyzed now.” 

That was all the older, got. Another Earth or possibly another odd one out. That was impossible, even if this dying stranger was the product of another Lionel affair there was no L-Corp. The business woman’s thoughts were interrupted when she spotted a light blue glow in a bottle like cylinder. 

Curious a Luthor will ever be, she took it from the unconscious person in front of her. Her curiosity would’ve been better if she did not press the button on the bottom or the top whichever it was. Lena screamed at the expansion of the clear glass. The curiosity did not kill the cat yet, the Luthor’s eyes shined at the hologram controls of what now seemed to be a healing chamber. 

A small glance was given to the other supposed Luthor, and she was compelled to help. She first deactivated the healing chamber and opened her closet door. Like her office, she had a safe room in her home and activated the chamber in a lead-lined room. She placed the (h/c) haired in the chamber. As it sealed shut the same hologram appeared with settings, though the technology seemed to complete the setting on it’s own. 

The tank slowly filled with a light blue liquid, a breathing apparatus placed on their nose and mouth When the tank was completely full, a holographic gauge appeared on the glass. The level of healing measured, and by the looks of it, it seemed as if they would be in the chamber for a while as different machines were being indicated to be needed for a faster recovery. But because the technology was not existent at the moment the recovery would take longer than it usually would but a lot faster than in medical innovations set in this time. 

Lena had been checking on the mysterious stranger daily for six weeks. There was some familiarity to you. Someone she couldn’t bare to face at the moment.

What she didn’t know was that that familiarity was the truth.

In 2043, a year before the heroic sacrifice you had convinced Stephanie Olsen-Danvers to use an image inducer to change spots with her. Lena didn’t allow you to be a field agent but that’s all you wanted to be with your two older brothers, Liam and Lucas, (twins) flying around. Your powers had not yet manifested and you wanted to see if they would activate during the field, Stephanie was better at all the businesswoman stuff anyways. You got your wish, but the cost was Stephanie’s life, an assassination attempt was successful. You watched as your brothers and your parents grieved, and so long you were wearing the image inducer, Stephanie would still be wearing your face. You stayed with Dansen that night, they were sad they lost their favorite niece and they knew “you” would’ve been worse because you and Stephanie were close. There was family therapy before the funeral with Kara, Lena, Liam, Lucas, Alex, Kelly and “Stephanie”. You bursted into tears the moment the session started and refused to accept comfort. You reached up to deactivate the image inducer while mumbling the word sorry repetitively.  

Gasps and sighs of relief mixed in the room. 

“I’m so sorry, I co-convinced her to sw-switch places with m-me. I wanted a b-break from L-Corp and she h-helped me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” 

Dansen were both furious. Alex more than Kelly. Kelly knew you didn’t know, she knows you would take it all back if you could, and that Stephanie would have felt the same guilt if you had truly died and she couldn’t have made the choice to save you. Alex argued with Kara, Lena and Kelly any chance she got, she refused to even speak to you unless they were on missions.Your brothers were torn, they were relieved you were alive but devastated Steph was gone. 

Then the inevitable happened. While Superfriends went ballistic on each other another attack was made. A threat far worse than murder but genocide. A massive nuclear bomb was set to blow all of National City and neighboring counties. Alex, Brainy, J’onn and Nia set to the MedBay, Kara and Lucas under sun lamps due to Kryptonite radiation and Liam left to tell everyone of the tragic news. Liam had gotten everyone to safety when the aftershock shook, Kryptonian DNA had mutated, during this generation of Supers to absorb explosions. You and Liam were supposed to absorb it together after Kara and Lucas were infected by a Kryptonite gas in another room. But you took the blow yourself. 

In the last seconds you remembered Sara’s time portal watch and used it to diffuse the bomb. Most of the explosion happened in the upper atmosphere of a different time while small chain reaction bombs reached National City. You were supposed to die, and yet here you were in your mother’s old penthouse. 

Your healing was nearly complete when Lena moved to the kitchen to make herself some tea. Kara landed right outside.

“Let me guess you’re here once again to tell me not to forgive you. Or maybe that I shouldn’t work with my brother?” She had to keep up her act, it was hard but she had to.

“Not this time. I realized I made a mistake in hiding my identity from you for so long but the past is the past, and I can’t change it. Forgive me or not that’s your choice. Just like it’s your choice to work with Lex. I’m done blaming myself for your bad decisions.” The last line hit Lena like a bus.

“Then why are you here?” Lena asked emotionless.

“To tell you that from now on, you’re accountable for your own actions. If you decide to forgive me, I will be there for you. But if you continue to work with Lex... If you go through with whatever it is the two of you are planning, I will do everything in my power to stop you... just like I would any other villain.” Lena didn’t want to be the villain, she was never the villain but this is the only way.

Lena left the tea untouched and marched towards her closet. The healing liquid fully drained as your eyes shot open. You pressed on the glass to open it as Lena stood watching.

“What she is not telling you is that she saw possible outcomes in which she told you she was supergirl earlier than Lex.” You began to change settings on the chamber.

“How do you know?”

“You can say that where I’m from, we’re close. But every situation in which she tells you there was always a worse outcome. So when would it have been a good time for her to tell you?” You turned to face Lena once you clasped the chamber into pocket size.

“Before Reign became all World Killer like.”

“Ehh....” you sighed before walking towards Lena’s kitchen.

“It was the right time in our friendship for her to have told me.” She followed after.

“You end up defeating Reign without Kryptonite, but it costed your life and Kara was not willing to live a life without you.”

“Well then maybe right from the start.”

You froze and looked up from the teapot.

“What, we would be able to have worked together. A super and a Luthor. We would be unstoppable.”

“Unstoppable until you get kidnapped, and Kara reveals her identity to the world to save you. But that information would be used to target all of your friends and they will all end up dead.”

“She wouldn’t reveal her identity for me.”

“You underestimate how much you actually mean to her. And before you say you’d be better off without Kara in your life, you are so wrong. Kara, time and time again, despite keeping a big secret from you has always been your number one supporter. The sole reason you haven’t turned evil was due to the fact that Kara Danvers always had your back.”

“How can you possibly know that! You don’t know that I’ve been betrayed by everyone in my life, by the ones I love the most!”

“Well it certainly won’t be betrayal if it’s by an enemy.”

Lena glared at the true statement.

“I let her in! While she was shutting me out!” Lena’s eyes began to tear.

“There are even certain things you have to keep to yourself. But you can’t do it alone. Humans, Kryptonians even Martians, we all need someone there with us, otherwise we will be nothing. Luthors especially.”

“You’re. You’re my daughter aren’t you.” The older walked towards you.

Your eyes watered behind the red and Lena cupped your face. “I know what it’s like to lose everyone. I know what it’s like to buy into my demons. But if it’s anything you taught me, is that you can still be who you are despite what everyone thinks.”

“So I can’t tell you what to do, I mean that would just mess with the timeline.” You and Lena chuckled. “But just know that everything will be okay for you. Obviously I was born.” You flipped your hair before you sniffed again.

“Why do I get a sense that it won’t be okay for you.”

“Because I killed my own cousin, I was selfish and I convinced her to be me. Luthors just can’t seem to get a break.”

“I agree with you on that. But you are my little secret so maybe you can help me with this Lex situation.”

“Huh,” you smiled.

“What?”

“My mom always told me that she didn’t stop Lex on her own. I always thought it was with Supergirl.” 

“The past and the future can be surprising.” Lena smiled. “What was your name again?”

“Uh for the sake of the timeline, you can call me Miss Luthor. I hope you also know that that means I won’t tell you anything about the future.” 

“Well Miss Luthor, I hope you know that you did not do a good job of hiding who you are.” Lena smiled at the House of El logo on your shoulder. “ A Luthor’s life is always going to have trouble, unless you have the House of El with you.”

“It’s a Luthor’s life. Well our part of the Luthors.”

“So I marry Kara? Do you have any siblings? Does Lex get what he deserves?”

“I said I can’t reveal anything more about the future.”

“How could you not want to ask questions? I am a Luthor afterall.” 

[veiledfox]

A Kitsune Among Monsters

One venture through the Tori landed Kyuushi in a small forested area on a cliff of some kind. Being one of her earlier times venturing through the Gate on her own, she wasn’t as efficient with her landings as she is now, and after some brief stumbling, she hit a ledge, and fell a short distance onto ground below. When she landed, however, she could hear some sort of noise. Screeching of some kind, from rather close by to her.

Getting up so she could look around at her surroundings to find out what was making the noise, she found herself facing a small, two legged creature. One with short clawed arms, orange fur, and a tail that ends in a long, curved, natural blade-like shape. It screeched at her again with the eye-contact, but then she heard another screech, but didn’t see it’s fanged mouth move. Looking to her side, there was a second. The pair of them both backing up a short distance from her while continuing to make their odd sounds at her.

Before too much longer, however, the two were joined by a third, one that was much larger, much more intimidating, and seemed to command the smaller two. Earning both their gazes immediately, it looked to the two of them before all three looked at her again. All screeching in unison as they backed up a little further, and she could tell they were readying for something.

Her attempts to back up, to get away to safety, were immediately stopped as her back hit the wall of the small ledge she fell from. Trying to use it to prop herself up onto her feet instead, her foot slipped from under her during a step. Looking where she had planted it, and finding fresh mud, she figured it had just been raining in the area not too long before she arrived. When she looked back, however, she could see the creatures reared back and ready to pounce at her. 

The smaller two launching themselves first, a twist to their bodies to use their tails as their weapons, and the larger third following a brief second after. Eyes closing and arms rising in a vein attempt to protect herself, the Kitsune doesn’t feel anything hit her. Though she hears some sort of dull thud like something hitting against thick metal twice over, and hears the creatures landing and screeching. Right before a groan, one that sounded human, something slamming down into the ground, and a subsequent explosion.

Opening her eyes, a Woman stood before her, clad in a silver scaled, black haired armor set holding a large shield, and some form of spear. The Woman had blocked the attack from the strange creatures, and retaliated with their weapon. Still shield-forward, they look back to her and ask if she’s unharmed first and foremost, then what she’s doing in “The Shrine Ruins” if she’s not a Hunter, or a Researcher. The name and terminology clearly confusing Kyuushi, though she answers the first question with only brief pause.

Right after, however, she could hear the familiar screeching beyond the shield the Woman held, and she was taking a breath to warn the individual. Only for her to be cut off before she could even speak, hearing a metal ping of some sort. Looking around, her eyes quickly find a large arrow embedded in the wall of a mountain beyond the Woman in front of her. One with a bag attached to it’s end, which opens partially and starts raining large, spiked orbs of metal on the creatures that had attacked her. 

Her vision of the arrow and the bag would be briefly obscured just seconds after, however. Another person launching up, over herself and the shield-wielding Woman in front with the aid of some oddly glowing bug. A large club of some sort on their back, though as they fly over, the person retrieves it, brings it in front and over their head, and four large spikes unfold from the center. With a mighty roar, the person falls beyond the shield’s cover, but Kyuushi can hear the heavy impact against the ground, and feels the earth shake beneath her.

It’s just seconds after that she sees a third person come into her view beside her, a massive bow of metal in one hand, while the other is reaching out to her. The figure looked masculine, clad in gladiator-like armor, but the face was a little more feminine, and two feather ear rings hung from their ears. They asked her if she was able to move, receiving a nod in confirmation, and tell her to take their hand and stick close. With zero hesitation, she takes a firm grip, feeling them help her rise to her feet, and quickly setting to guiding her along a pathway. 

Looking back, the Kitsune could see the Woman with the shield turn around, holding the shield still in place, but setting the lance behind her. A large fire setting ablaze at it’s end, and building bigger and bigger. In front of them, that odd spiked weapon was swung into the side of the larger creature, knocking it over onto it’s side. A bug flying up from the Man wielding the odd weapon, before some form of tether connects the man to the bug, pulling him up out of the way of his companion, who surges forward with an explosion of force, slamming the creature into the mountain wall with their shield.

It’s the last that Kyuushi could see of the fight that was happening before she was pulled around a curve, and down a slope with some strewn about, broken stone steps. At the foot of it, a tone archway which reminded her of the Tori Gate back home, and a short ledge down to an open space with a river cutting through it. A rock wall across the river with vines running up toward the edge and over to the top. Swiftly guided to the vine wall, she’s instructed to climb, and follow the path at the top until she reaches a campsite.

Following the person’s instructions, she does pause to look behind herself. Seeing the person had somehow folded their large bow, stored it on their back, and was now swinging away on tethers like the Man earlier, on a path to return to the other two and join them again. She focuses back to her task, climbs the wall with little issue, and finds herself looking at a gently curved path, with a small stream of water next to it, and stones with candles on the opposite side of the stream. 

Figuring it was the path mentioned, she sets along it, only walking for maybe a half minute before she spots what looks to be a tent, with some sort of chest beside it. She didn’t wish to damage or disturb anything, so she found herself a seat on a small wooden step that was set before the tent, and acted as part of a flooring beneath it too. Waiting a few minutes before she heard the sounds of the three from before reaching the top of the vine wall, and approaching her.

The Woman, her shield now on her back with the odd lance folded and tucked beneath, raised a hand and called out to her. Commenting she was glad to see that Kyuushi was unharmed, after having encountered a “Great Izuchi”, without any armor or weapons. When Kyuushi responded, connecting the name to the creatures from before, the three looked a little surprised she had no such knowledge. None of them acted rudely, however, the one with the feather ear rings stepping forward with a nod, and approaching her to take a seat at her side.

For the rest of the day in this strange new realm, Kyuushi sat with these three people at their camp, eventually around a campfire as the night crept in. Learning their names were Leon, who’s odd spiked weapon was apparently a Hammer, Asuka, the Woman with the shield and what she called a Gunlance, and Avery, the bow wielder. Then about the location they were in, about a village they came from called Kamura, about all sorts of animals and monsters that inhabit their world and how they hunt those that disturb the peace. 

This fire-side chatting lasted well into the night, and for the first time ever, Kyuushi slept through a night and into the next day in a realm not of her own. The next day returning with the trio to their village, and being introduced to it’s inhabitants. Most importantly of all, their Village Chief, whom she expressed her interest in what these “Hunters”, as they called themselves, do to him. The Chief, without hesitation, suggested that she become a Hunter herself. 

It was an idea that got caught in Kyuushi’s head, though she wasn’t entirely sure about. Thus she asked if she could think it over through the next night, which the Chief and the Hunters all agreed was a fine idea. Afterwards, she was shown around the village for a few more hours, taken to the hot springs, and taken across a bridge to a small island separate from the village that was populated with many different dogs and cats, and a young boy who almost seemed to be a dog himself with how much he and the animals acted like family.

After a few hours more, Kyuushi finally found a moment she was alone, one where she could get away from everyone and return home. Both exhausted from the influx of excitement that was getting to see the village and meet it’s people and all their animal companions, and excited at the thought of going back. Thankfully, she had been gifted a scarf by the young boy with all the animals after commenting how much she loved how all the “Palamutes”, he called them, had a scarf and how cute they looked. An item she could use as an anchor to this other realm, and return the next day after she’d gotten a good night of rest at home.

The next day, with the scarf tied around her arm, Kyuushi returned through the Tori Gate to Kamura. Finding the Village Chief swiftly, and telling him she would take up the title of Hunter, joining the guild and the protectors of not only Kamura, but the world as a whole. Immediately setting to trying the different weapons, with aid from the Hunters who she had met the days prior, in order to discover which one she could find she could best handle. 

Though they quickly found that, for the heavier weapons, Kyuushi was quite far from being strong enough to handle them. Thus, for a while, they limited Kyuushi to the lighter weapons. A Sword and Shield, Dual Blades that worked in tandem with one another, and something she was told was called a “Kinsect Glaive”, a long polearm with a bladed end, and a blunt end with some form of propulsion system. In order to use the Kinsect to it’s fullest, however, she quickly was told she would need to befriend and nurture a large insect, one which would hang onto her arm at all times when out on hunts and not actively in use. The idea put Kyuushi off quite hard, so she would default to the other two weapons while training.

Over the next handful of visits to Kamura’s realm, the Kitsune found herself improving greatly with the Sword and Shield, managing the offensive and defensive opportunities granted from the weapon far better than the full on aggression that was the Dual Blades. She was informed of the agility that the Dual Blades allowed, and shown just how well one could weave in between and around attacks from monsters, but could never quite get the hang of it. Which was odd to her considering how much she was used to being an agile little Fox half the time at home and in realms where she could fit in as such. Still, she would practice with them, but for her first hunt she would wield the Sword and Shield.

Over the many days she would return to the realm of Kamura, and the days she would spend camping with the Hunters that she was now a rather solid team with, Kyuushi became quite a capable Hunter herself. Having managed to take on many of the lower ranked Monsters on her own with little to no assistance from her teammates, At the same time, she would notice more and more how light the Armor she was wearing, and the weapon she wielded were starting to feel.

After two weeks of time within the realm of Kamura, Kyuushi decided to tackle some of the heavier weapons again. Finding herself capable of finally handling the Hammer, Lance, Gunlance like Asuka, a weapon they called a “Charge Blade”, and something that they called a “Hunting Horn’. The Charge Blade being a larger Sword and Shield, which can combine together to become a large Axe-like weapon. Hunting Horn, meanwhile, a blunt weapon that doubled as an instrument, playing different notes due to the air rushing through the weapon when swung with different hand positions. If specific notes were played in the right order, they would cause a song to play from the Horn itself, somehow providing beneficial effects to herself and her allies.

She would still find massive weapon known as the Greatsword, and an odd contraption called a “Switch Axe” both still a little too heavy for herself to wield it effectively. Thus, over the next couple weeks, she would try each of the five weapons she could now manage to wield. Quickly adapting to the Charge blade, what with it’s base features being similar to those of the Sword and Shield, simply with more weight and less mobility. But after a time, she found herself accustomed to the Hunting Horn.

Taking up the Horn for a full week worth of hunting Monsters that distrubed the peace and balance, Kyuushi found herself loving her experiences with the weapon. The wild flare she could give in her movements, the way different Horns sounded, the combination of notes before music would play, adding so much to not only her Hunts with her friends, but even to her daily life in Kamura. Figuring ways to play many of the wide variety of Hunting Horns, both in combat, and when simply trying to take some time to relax. Often providing music when the group is winding down after a Hunt that dragged on late into the night, or for small parties that were thrown for the achievements that members of the Village made.

Even when returning home to her realm, Kyuushi would keep her best armor and her favorite Hunting Horn with her, using them as anchors for any return trips to Kamura. Plus, she would find herself stronger not just from the supernatural influence of the realm of Kamura, but in general as well. Able to wield the Hunting Horn with almost as much ease as she could in Kamura’s realm, while in her home. Able to play the notes and make music sing from the large Instrument even, but unable to give any sort of boost to herself like she found she could while in Kamura’s realm. 

Just one of the many ways she could tell there was some form of magic or another within the realms she could travel to through use of her Tori Gate. Another thing that she could rest assured would be restored to her capabilities any time she were to return to Kamura. A venture which she takes at least once a week or two now, explaining her absence in the times between as her adventuring the world to aid others. Something that, while not entirely true, is also far from being a lie.

[chdatz9000]

The Future and The Past

Summary:

In an unfamiliar hotel room, in the middle of the night, Korra's mind is consumed with her love and devotion for Asami.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31274903

(for those who don't want to leave tumblr, please read below cut!)

Korra and Asami made a collective decision to go on a sort of mini vacation, to get away from their immediate responsibilities and needing a brand new surrounding. Honestly, they succeeded in that aspect too well, as neither was entirely sure how they got to this seaside village, but they figured they could just ask the locals tomorrow the best way to get to Republic City. Surprising both of them, Korra seemed to have gone unnoticed by the populace of the small village and they were undisturbed since their arrival earlier in the day.

The cool night breeze blew through the open window of the dark hotel room they were staying in. It was some unholy hour in the morning and Korra was awake, her sleep was abruptly interrupted by what she thought was a loud crash sound coming from the ocean. At least that is what she thought, but Asami was still sound asleep, resting peacefully in the quiet room. Korra felt guilty having to leave her side to check windows to see what the cause of the sound was. All Korra could do was reminisce of the way Asami always knew where she was in bed and wrapped herself around her, the way that Asami would cling to her and sigh ever-so-happily into Korra’s ear in the middle of her sleep. Having to carefully get out of that heavenly place so Asami wouldn’t wake up, just to make sure that they were both safe, tore Korra’s heart.

There was nothing out there, at least from what Korra could see. It was dark as there weren't any lights coming from the village other than some lanterns near the entrance to the village. Unfortunately for Korra, she was wide awake and didn't want to go back into bed in fear of waking her love from all of her own tossing and turning in an attempt to fall back asleep. She just lovingly stared at Asami, reflecting on how fortunate she was to be hers, how beautiful and gorgeous Asami was, how generous she was, how selfless she was, how caring she was to her and to everyone around her. Korra knew this was the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with, if she would even want her back. She pushed that thought away, of course Asami loves her and will undoubtedly accept her as her wife, when they will be ready.

Korra couldn’t help but quietly chuckle as she thought about how she confessed her love to her, it wasn’t really one of her proudest moments. It was awkward and felt really silly to her. If you were to ask her how it went, she would lie and tell you some almost extravagant story where they were at a candle lit, high class restaurant with a string quartet playing in the background, or a moonlit stroll through some woods to a flower filled meadow. Of course it was nowhere close to any of the stories she would tell, she was too embarrassed to actually tell anyone.

The truth was they were leaving Air Temple Island and Korra accidentally missed a step and started to trip, but Asami was able to quickly grab a hold of her waist and pulled Korra into her. “I got you,” Asami simply stated as Korra just stared longingly into Asami’s eyes. She couldn’t help herself but to take in every detail of Asami’s ravishing face, her eyes darting from each irresistible feature. With her mind racing, she absentmindedly blurted her thoughts, “I love you,” she spoke quietly, still admiring the woman in front of her. Korra had a moment before she realized what she just spoke aloud, she blushed immediately and her eyes went wide. She started to stammer which caused Asami to laugh. Asami would then again look upon Korra with a smile, that smile, that she gives to Korra that she knows that Korra just melts from. “I love you, too.” She sweetly responded as she kissed her softly.

Korra shook her head, smiling, wishing she could have waited for a more romantic situation in confessing, there were many times afterward that were golden opportunities, but nothing can change that now. That wasn’t the story she wanted to tell, wasn’t what Asami deserved, she deserved the world in Korra’s mind. Korra would do anything for Asami, she would drop everything and move mountains just for her. All she really wanted was to make sure Asami knows how much she means to her, through her actions, words, or otherwise. It just never seemed enough to convey the immeasurable amount of love she has for her.

She took another look outside, it was again still, quet, and dark. No use in waiting for something else to happen when the event probably never occurred in the first place. She figured she would try going to the bathroom in hopes that would help with her restlessness. She walked toward the bathroom, being very careful and deliberate with her steps to not make any noise to awake her lover from her blissful sleep. She entered the bathroom and leaves the door open a bit so she could still listen for anything that may or may not happen.

….

Asami felt cold, there should have been a giant heat source in front of her but it seemed to have moved. She slowly rolled onto her back and groggily stretched out her arms to her sides to find her favorite heat source, but when the search proved fruitless she slowly sat up. Eyes squinted, she studied the bed, Korra wasn’t in it. She inhaled deeply and started to look around the room to find the person she yearned the most. Asami didn’t need protecting, she has stated as such to numerous people, but she did feel a giant sense of safety and comfort when with Korra by her side. She didn’t want to admit it to her though, she thinks that it might cause Korra to become too protective and not as her true self. She honestly adored how fearless she can be, it’s one of her strengths that she admires.

Korra couldn’t be found and the only thing that was out of place was that the windows were now open, the curtains slowly swaying with the outside breeze. That’s weird. Asami thought. It wasn’t open earlier...did...did Korra leave? Her mind trying to deceive her. She continued to study her surroundings, looking for anything else out of the ordinary, perhaps a break in? Wait no, that doesn’t make any sense. She would just use the door and would call out for me. She was beginning to wake up and started to hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and she chuckled to herself. Why was I so worried?

The curtain’s slow swaying was hypnotic to Asami, and seemingly unbeknownst to herself, she got up and walked up to the window in a daze. She peered out the window and was surprised at how dark it was. The few lanterns scattered around the village stuck out and captivated Asami’s interest as the tiny flames seemed to dance and flicker in the wind. It was...peaceful...the same feeling she wanted to share with Korra. She knew she was the Avatar; master of all the elements, the bridge between the spirits and humans, the protector of BOTH worlds, but Asami would slap destiny in the face to give Korra peace.

The flames had stopped their dance and were still, her focus moved from the lanterns to the ocean shoreline. The ocean, the water; the thing on earth that reminded Asami so much of Korra, how can it change from a peaceful standstill to a unforgiving powerful beast. She couldn’t help but smile, Korra was her’s and she was Korra’s, there was only one last step . She had it all planned out, she wanted to take her to a certain place within the Earth Kingdom. There exists a picturesque valley in a mountain range, a field filled with beautiful wild flowers and a crystal clear lake and best of all it was a good distance away from any cities. She found it accidentally from taking a long detour from Ba Sing Se and made a map just for herself for that exact moment. Everything was planned, she even had the ring, but she couldn’t really prepare for Korra. She knew that Korra might beat her, but there were still some complications from within Korra. She was really passive on major steps in their relationships, like how she told her how she loved her the first time. Asami chuckled to herself.

“What’s so funny?” Korra asked. She was standing right next to her, Asami didn’t even hear her opening the door or her walking towards her.

“Oh, what has happened,...” She turned to face Korra, “...what is happening,...” she wrapped her arms around Korra’s lower waist and pulled her closer, “...and what will happen.” A small, almost mischievous, smile appeared on her face before she leaned in slowly to kiss her beloved. A slow, sensual kiss, that Asami couldn’t help but to give a soft moan, she loved these tender moments.

Korra sheepishly smiled, “What do you mean?” she asked sweetly.

Asami leaned back and started to sway slowly from side to side, “Nothing really, just come back to bed with me?”

Korra’s look changed, almost a frown on her face showed, “Maybe in a minute,...I’m still wide awake….”

Asami caught on quickly, there was more to what Korra said. She stopped her swaying and placed one of her hands on Korra’s cheek, caressing it with her thumb. “Are you ok?” Asami had become very knowledgeable on reading Korra’s inner emotions, although it was still tricky to know the true level of the emotion. Korra would inadvertently look away and frown for just a small moment when she felt troubled with her feelings in regards to her. It could range from she forgot to say “I love you” last night to all the way to she wrecked her house, she reacted just the same. Asami had to figure out the severity of the situation, so she did what she did best to help calm Korra.

“Let’s just get back to the bed.” Asami suggested as she grabbed hold of Korra's hand and led them back. Asami crawled and sat in the middle of the bed as she watched Korra just sit at the edge, eyes still not focused on her. “That’s not fair.” Asami objected to how and where Korra was sitting. She raised her eyebrow and tucked on Korra’s arm, which seemed to be just enough to break whatever defense Korra had. A smile now across her lips, Korra turned around and got closer to Asami, who was now able to see some more hints. She’s blushing, good! It wasn’t going to be a big issue, whatever it was.

Korra still couldn’t look directly at Asami, instead was just staring at different parts of her. “I…” she tried to begin, her cheeks now burning, “...I want to tell you something.”

“Oh? What is it?” Asami asked lovingly, whatever it was she wanted to hear it, especially if Korra was this embarrassed about it.

“Actually….I’ve wanted to ask you this for a long time.” Korra started to fidget a bit.

Wait… .Asami didn’t mean to, but her demeanor changed to caution, Is she going to beat me to the punch? Right now?! Is this place special at all? Did she ever talk about this place?? Is this place known for this sort of thing? No. I don’t think so, we didn’t know this place existed? What am I missing? How did I miss this? I wanted to ask her!

Korra didn’t seem to notice Asami’s change in complexion as she still wasn’t looking at her face. She stopped her fidgeting and slowly moved her hands to grab hold of Asami’s.

Oh, spirits! Asami inhaled deeply.

“I would like a redo?” she asked sheepishly.

Asami’s mind crashed stopped from hearing this question ?? Her mouth was slightly agape for a moment, this was one of the furthest ideas from her mind could fathom. “A redo of what?” She tried to ask sincerely, but she couldn’t help but find her own overreaction extremely ridiculous and started to laugh.

“No,  I’m serious! I ju--”

Knowing fully well that Korra was going to try to explain herself to validate her emotions, Asami had to interrupt, she didn’t have to explain herself to her. “I know you are! It’s just…” she paused to get the last of her laughs out of her system while tightly squeezing Korra’s hands, “...It’s just sometimes you’re just too cute.”

Korra flushed harder, it has been a bit of time since they complemented on each other. Asami was kind of ashamed of that, she wanted to make an effort to make sure she called Korra something sweet everyday, and hoped that Korra would in return start doing the same. It was a good nostalgic feeling from when they first started to date.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Just know that you’re very lovely and whatever you need to say, I’m listening in earnest.” Asami stated as she leaned closer.

Korra’s eyes finally met with Asami’s, and she saw a fire burning passionately behind them. Asami gazed back into them and hoped she could show that she was eager to hear  what Korra was going to say next.

“I wanted to tell you...that I love you, Asami.” It was her turn to squeeze her hands.

Slightly confused, but still intent on showing Korra that she was validated, she asked, “Korra, I love you too. And I know this as you’ve told me this at least a few hundred times, but what do you mean?”

“I just. I hated how I said it the first time, it was like an accident and just seemed like it wasn’t good enough for someone of your caliber.” Her speech got more passionate the more she rambled, “You deserve the world and only it’s best. You don’t want someone to just blurt it out like it was some small observation, It should have been a giant romantic moment! A true moment to show the depth of my meaning of my love to you! You mean the world to me, Asami. My love for you is so vast and bottomless that words cannot properly describe how much I love you. I never cared for anything as much as I care about you. I would literally do anything for you, Asami Sato. I would literally change the world. Just. For. You. I--”

Korra was stopped by a pair of soft lips as she tried to continue her profession of true love but only managed to get two more words out before stopping. Asami’s eyes were closed as she slowly kissed the woman in front of her, each kiss deeper than the last. She moved her hands around Korra’s neck, to hold her in place, while Korra’s hands moved to Asami’s back. They were like this for a while until Asami’s movement pushed Korra down onto the bed. Asami slowly removed her hands and parted her lips, but kept her forehead rested upon the woman below her.

Slowly opening her eyes, revealing forming tears, she spoke softly. “I love you too, Korra.” She exhaled staggeredly. “I love you so, so much. Thank you.” Hearing those words, and although she has known the depth of their love for some time now, it was as if she was hearing them for the first time. She doesn’t know whether it was Korra’s intense passion, her severely cute ramblings, the sincerity of her words, hearing the words again after not hearing them for a while, this place, or all of the above, but it swelled Asami’s heart until she couldn’t stop herself from reacting. She wanted to let Korra finish, but she was so overwhelmed with Korra’s love that she couldn’t help herself.

“I don’t know why…”she began again, still tender,”...but I guess hearing that is what I really wanted to hear right now. And if you are feeling the same, then. I need you to know…, I will fix all of the world’s problems for you, in a heartbeat.” Asami’s words were slow and deliberate. “My love for you is never ending. Whatever makes you happy, I will do everything that I can do to make sure you have it. You are my light, Korra. Whenever things get tough at work, you always provide me with courage and strength to get through it. You are my world and I would do anything to protect it.”

They shared a small moment of stillness between them before Korra leaned up to kiss her compassionately. She stayed there for a moment before returning her head to the bed, tears also forming in her eyes. They smiled at each other before Asami eventually laid down on top of her, resting her head on top of her chest.

“I promise I will too.” Korra replied quietly. Not knowing how to process the surge of emotions and not wanting to ruin the intense moment of intimacy, Asami let out a happy sigh and focused on falling back asleep on top of her world.

While the first confession was clumsy and spur of the moment, it portrayed Korra’s true character, unfiltered and speaking her mind. Pure and innocent but with a passion behind it. Asami did treasure it, but this was a special moment that she would remember. Everything about this night was different, or maybe it was just special as both of them were always so preoccupied with their respective lives outside of their relationship and desperately needed this time together.

---

While it wasn’t exactly how Korra wanted it to go, she was content with the outcome. She had her redo and reiterated her emotions to Asami in a, somewhat, more romantic setting than Air Temple Island. She finally felt tired enough to fall back asleep, was that the reason why she woke up in the first place? She kissed the top of Asami’s head, and in return Asami kissed her cheek. Once Asami nuzzled back onto her chest, she took one last look towards the window, the sounds of the waves, the sight of the curtains flowing with the wind, and the still darkness behind it was all she could take in. Maybe it was her imagination? She didn’t ponder anything more as she took her free arm and placed it around Asami. She finally let her eyes close and drifted back asleep.

[emisfritish]

Our gift to the world - Episode 2

Pairing: Pang/Wave (The Gifted/The Gifted Graduation)

Summary: Episode codas of an established Pang/Wave in The Gifted Graduation.These can all be read as standalones, but they fit into the same canon-compliant universe. Episode 2 -  Scene set at the end of the episode after the whole talk with Time. 

Previous parts : Ep 1.

Next parts : Ep.3 / Ep.4 / Ep.5 / Ep.6 / Ep. 7 / Ep. 8

Series on Ao3

Notes : Okay, and that’s the coda for episode 2 ! Enjoy this weird mix of angst and fluff, all into one fic. 

Later in the evening, once The Gifted students have answered all of Time’s questions and after Wave’s continuous monitoring of school cameras to make sure that the group of Anti-Gifted students were found and picked up by school staff for what they hope will be severe disciplinary actions, Pang finds himself back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed. 

Today has been exhausting, he thinks to himself, as he lets his head fall backwards until it hits gently against the wall behind him and closes his eyes, trying to hold off the migraine he can feel building within him. The evening definitely hadn’t gone down like they planned, and although the mission had been a success and no one had gotten hurt in the end, Pang still feels uneasy with how close a call it had been, and the many thoughts and questions still plaguing him. 

First, this was all his fault. Sure, he disagrees with everything the Anti-Gifted stand for right now and he hates the way they go at things, but he’d also been the one to bring them into the fold, to impress upon the other Gifted students that it was a good idea. Blinded by his ideals, he inadvertently created them, and every single action they do now indirectly falls back on him. 

Which leads him to the second thought that is currently so imposing it almost paralyzes him in fear… Was he repeating the same mistake with Time ? 

Sure, Time looks like his heart in his the right place and he only wants to help make things better too, but that’s exactly what Pang thought when he first introduced the non-gifted students to his friends, and one only has to look at the situation today to see how bad that particular decision had been. 

Pang hates the idea of potentially putting even more people in danger by bringing Time into the fold. The idea that the decision he took by not forcing Time to forget everything that’s happened recently could ultimately harm his friends, could harm Wave… he doesn’t think that’s something he could live with. Not again.

“I can hear you overthinking things from all the way over here,” a voice suddenly cuts into his thoughts. 

“You don’t read mind, that’s not what your gift is,” Pang says as he lifts his head to look towards his boyfriend who is currently leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, studying him. 

“Trust me, I don’t need it to be my gift to be able to read you like an open book right now,” the other boy answers, before he pushes his way forward to make his way into the bedroom. 

“Move over,” he orders once he reaches the bed, prompting Pang to scoot to the side to leave enough room for Wave to sit next to him, which he does instantly. The immediate comfort coming from the warmth of their sides being pressed loosens Pang’s shoulders a bit.

Neither of them say anything for a couple minutes, and Pang can feel Wave’s stare burning into the side of his face, his boyfriend studying him intently before he finally breaks the silence. 

“Are you okay ?” 

Wave’s voice when he asks the question is low and soft, in a way it so rarely is, and even in the midst of everything going on, Pang takes a second to appreciate that he’s one that gets to see this Wave, and appreciate this softer side of him. 

He shrugs in answer, not quite knowing how to put all of his feelings into words, and Wave nods back, as if that reaction was to be expected. 

“Talking about her never gets easier,” Wave confesses, looking away from Pang to look at the cupboard sitting in front of the bed, where they both know a picture of Ohm, Pang and Namtarn is hidden from view, safely taped on the inside of the door.  

Namtarn.

His discussion with Time and the rehashing of the past has left a sour taste in his mouth, and even after all these months, talking about her and what she’s been through never gets easier. The fact that most of the school seem to think that him and his friends are to blame for hurting her, for hurting one of their own… well, that just makes it even more painful.

Of course Wave would know that Pang’s head has been filled with memories and thoughts about her ever since his talk with Time earlier. If anyone outside of him and Ohm understands the feelings of loss, it would be Wave. Both because he loved her as much as Pang himself did, and because he feels the same sense of guilt at what happened to her. 

They rarely talk about it, but the fact that they were the ones to ask her to go back into the room where they knew a bomb was, the room where she got hurt, is something they’ll both have to live with for the rest of their lives. In that way, no one understands him the same way Wave does. 

“She’s okay by the way,” Wave says, pressing his thigh a little closer to Pang’s, his own version of physical comfort. 

“You texted her ?” Pang asks his boyfriend hopefully, turning towards him, and he sees Wave nod in answer. 

Because they were paranoïd about their phones being tapped and about people finding out Pang had regained his memories, they’ve set a rule that Pang isn’t allowed to contact her directly, not unless he was sending a message through Wave’s secure phone, for both of their safety.

And of course Wave, knowing Pang the way he does, he would have known the only way to ease Pang’s mind a little tonight would be to hear from their friend. Trust his boyfriend to cut right to the root of the issue and find a pragmatic way to fix it.

“You can text her later, if you want. She said she likes her new school, and that she’s met some nice people,” Wave continues, and a little bit of the sadness that had been weighing on Pang for the last hour chips away at the words. 

“Of course, I’m fairly certain they’ll never hold a candle to us, but you can’t have everything. Not everyone is as great as I am,” Wave says with a cocky smirk, and Pang can’t hold the small snort that escapes him in the face of his boyfriend’s arrogance.  

“Thank you,” he says after a second, appreciating the fact that Wave took the time to reach out to her to ease both of their minds, which causes Wave to shrug in response.

“Well, this night certainly turned out differently than I expected.”

There’s no judgement in the words, but Pang still feels guilt and doubt swim at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Do you think I made a mistake telling him all of this instead of forcing him to forget and stay away from us ?” he finally asks the question that has been lingering on his mind all night. 

Wave stays silent for a couple seconds, thinking over his answer, before he turns towards Pang and shrugs again. 

“I think you did what you thought was right,” he ends up answering.

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a mistake though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Wave tells him, direct as ever. “It doesn’t mean it was a mistake either though.”

“If you were me, you would have used my gift to make him forget,” Pang affirms, knowing his boyfriend enough to know it to be the truth. 

“I would have,” he answers back, not denying the words. “But I’m not you.”

Simple as that. 

Because he’s right, it is an answer. In many ways, Wave and him are nothing alike and have very different ways of solving problems, but that was also their strength. That was why they worked so well together to begin with, both when it came to shutting down a corrupt system, and in their personal relationship. 

“I know you think I’m an idiot for trusting him,” Pang continues, and Wave turns towards him and frowns. 

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he replies, and Pang raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Okay, I think you’re an idiot sometimes,” he amends, which makes Pang smile, very used to being an idiot on many subjects when compared with his math and technology genius of a boyfriend. “But I don’t think it’s the case right now.”

Pang nods at his words, thinking them over. If there’s one thing he could trust Wave with, it was brutal honesty, even when it came to things Pang didn’t necessarily want to hear. Knowing that Wave doesn’t think him trusting Time was totally stupid eases his mind a little. 

“It’s just… I truly think he could help,” Pang explains. “I know you think he’s a liability.”

“Oh, he definitely is a liability,” Wave cuts him off. “He’s a naïve idiot, he believes what everyone tells him too easily, and we can’t predict where he’ll go and what he’ll do, which makes him dangerous. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you wouldn’t use your gift on him.”

Of course. Wave is the only one in their group who knows just how scared Pang is of one day turning into someone he doesn’t recognize anymore. Of one day being so power hungry with his ability to control people, that he becomes just like the director, if not worse. 

“Plus… he may turn out to be more useful than I initially thought he would be,” Wave continues, and Pang feels another weight being lifted off of his shoulders. 

“So you don’t blame me for not forcing him away ?” Pang asks in a small voice, and Wave turns towards him again.

“How could I blame you when you being this way is precisely the reason I lo…” he stops mid-sentence and swallows nervously, which makes Pang smile, before he nudges his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. 

He knows Wave won’t finish the sentence, the words being difficult enough for him that he very rarely says them out loud. It doesn’t make it any less true though, and Pang doesn’t need to hear the words to know that he means them with every fiber of his being. 

Seeing the way Wave has changed and opened up since they got together, the way he’s sometimes softer and kinder, while remaining the same Wave that drove him absolutely insane last year, is enough proof for Pang to know exactly how his boyfriend feels. 

“My boyfriend is a softie, I got used to it,” Wave ends up saying with a shrug instead of the words that had started to come out. 

Pang turns towards him and smiles brightly, which he didn’t think would be possible after the evening they’ve had. 

“You convinced him to trust me tonight,” Pang reminds him, remembering the words Wave told Time earlier and how they warmed his heart. 

Trust isn’t an easy thing for Wave to give away, not after everything he’s been through when he was younger. So for him to choose to put his trust in Pang, over and over again… let’s just say the significance isn’t lost on him. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Wave says dismissively with a roll of his eyes, which causes Pang to snort again. 

God, his boyfriend could be so dramatic when he was trying to keep up his cold front. 

“I trusted you, and it turned out pretty well for me,” he continues his thought, prompting Pang to turn towards him, fake outrage written all over his face even as the words warm his heart again.

“Pretty well ? Pretty well ? I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, don’t even try to pretend otherwise,” he teases him, only to stop when Wave turns towards him and looks at him seriously.

“You are,” he says simply, and Pang feels his breath catch in his throat at the words. 

Before he has the time to say anything in response, a grin lights up Wave’s face. 

“What is that Mr.Sermrittirong ? Is that you blushing I’m seeing right in front of my eyes ? What, the king of cheesy lines himself can’t take a little flirting ? I guess I win again,” Wave teases back, cocky smirk in place. 

God, Pang had clearly been a terrible influence on him if this is what Wave uses his newly found confidence in their relationship to do. 

“Are you seriously trying to win at flirting ?” he asks deadpan, which only causes Wave to laugh. 

“Oh, I’m not just trying. I think I’m succeeding. Quite easily actually.”

It’s funny how things change, Pang thinks to himself. How Wave, of all people, had managed to steal his heart when Pang was expecting it the least, and how easily they fit together. 

This boy that can go from being cold and calculating, to cocky, flirty and yet sweet the very next minute. This boy that can be so very arrogant, and yet so insecure at the same time, always keeping Pang on his toes. 

Yet, as Pang looks at his boyfriend now and sees the cocky grin the boy is wearing, he can remember that particular expression from the very first day he met Wave, and the predominant thought in his mind right now, is a very familiar one. He would like nothing more than for Wave to shut up.

Some things do change, but others remain exactly the same. He just has way more enjoyable ways of shutting Wave up now, which he puts to use right this second, pushing forward to kiss Wave and get him to stop talking for a while. 

“Maybe everything with Time will turn out okay and he won’t cause any issues,” Pang ends up saying wistfully a while later, after shutting up Wave for a few good minutes. 

“Oh, he’ll definitely cause us trouble. Mark my words,” he boyfriend negates the thought, and Pang turns towards him. 

“And even knowing that, you don’t blame me for not using my gift on him ?”

Wave bumps their foreheads together before reaching forward to grab Pang’s hand in his. 

“I trust your judgement,” he ends up saying, causing Pang’s heart to beat double time in his chest, before he looks up at his boyfriend gratefully.

“Besides… I kind of have a thing for naïve idiots anyway.”

[bat-besties]

Your secret is safe with me

A belated present for @djpurple3

Declyn and Virgil are the ultimate duo when it comes to close-up magic and its use in cons - and that's as much Delcyn's skill as Virgil being an actual mage on the run from the army.

As the two travel around the country through each season, their familiar dynamic begins to shift with the weather. 

6k words. Anxceit Fantasy AU with friends to lovers, bed-sharing, card games, and a lot of friendly bickering. 

AO3 

Edited and titled and with snow description by the lovely @5-crofters-jams 

------

Clubs

“Is this your card?” Declyn flicked his fingers to display the four of clubs.

The woman leaned back on her chair with a creak. “My baby sister could do better close-up magic than that.” She raised her eyebrows at the tent hung with yellow and black awnings and faintly mystical sigils before settling with particular disgust on Declyn himself. He was decked out in a pastiche of the outfits of the Royal Wizardry, the private army of the king any mage was required to join by law. It wouldn’t have been convincing even if they weren’t usually stationed at the palace. But the deception wasn’t meant to be seamless; he was clearly a charlatan. 

The sound of the rest of the fairground was barely faded, people chatting, singing, and cheering like a pack of wild animals.  

He gave her a brittle smile. “Is it, good lady?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Very good,” Declyn said, lingering over the words as he reached for another deck of cards. He shuffled it without looking, the cards falling back and forth and crossing around his hands. For a moment, he let go, and the cards kept on shuffling. He took her palm and laid it face-up on the table. To the woman’s credit, if the cards moving by themselves were surprising to her she didn’t show it. “Now. Let’s get down to the real business, hm?” 

“Going to tell me I’m going to find a tall, dark and handsome husband?” she said derisively. 

Declyn nodded as he bent over her hand. “Oh, totally, that is the classic line and I always follow it-” Then he looked behind her, whip-quick. He squinted at the air. “Oh. Oh, but this is very interesting. You’d like a tall, dark and handsome husband, wouldn’t you, a certain...Jake, is his name isn’t it?” 

She shifted uncomfortably, but she couldn’t pull her hand from his fingers encircling her wrist. “Who told you that?”

He waved his other hand into the air as a smirk snaked across his face. “Magic, good lady. Nothing more.” 

“Will he-” she bit her words off. “Someone must have gossiped.”

Declyn tilted his head. “Will he what?” He put on a sympathetic frown. “Will he love you back?” 

“If you were really a mage you’d be arrested by now,” she said with a toss of her head. A blush stole over her cheeks; her eyes didn’t meet Declyn’s; her pulse was rushing where his fingers touched it. Numbers and people, those were the only things Declyn knew how to read and they gave him more information than a thousand citadels of books. 

He hummed noncommittally. 

Screams rose outside before being suddenly cut off. He suppressed a flicker of irritation at having to work with this noise, let the moment stretch, and...

“So? Do you know if he likes me?”

Based on the way Jake was hanging over the bar every moment this woman’s coworker was serving… “I’d say no.” 

Her face crumpled into anger. “Why you-”

“Ah, ah, ah!” He held up a single finger. “He doesn’t like you yet.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about you-”

Declyn reached into the shadows of the tent and plucked a bottle of coloured liquid from them. “I had a feeling you would visit.” The candles flickered as a breeze stirred the tent. Their light made the bottle almost look as though it glowed from within.

She couldn’t look away from it. Five gold pieces had been the plan… should he stretch to ten? 

“Of course, there is a price… perhaps-” 

The tent disappeared. Declyn blinked for a moment at where it had been, then at the crowd whispering and cackling at the sight at him, then at the people in the same robes as him but which looked incredibly genuine surrounding him with their hands outstretched like they were about to attack-

He slowly brought his arms down and put them parallel along his stomach, fists turned against his body in a gesture which in an actual mage would have meant the only person he could shoot at was himself.   “Ah! Respected mages!” He put on a smile which suggested that, if he had magic, sweet wildflowers would grow wherever he stood. “Come to enjoy the fair, I see?”

“Are you a mage?” the leader barked at him. Authority was carried in every line of her body, from the proud arch of her neck to the tense stance she stood in, like a lioness ready to pounce.

Declyn weighed his life over his profits. He took a moment too long to admit, “No. I’m a performer. Some skill in reading people, a love of close-up illusion, you get the picture-”

“People of Goodwyn,” she said loudly. “Have you any proof of this man being a mage?”

The woman raised her hand nervously to point at his card deck. “He can make it move without touching it.” 

Rolling his eyes, Declyn picked them up again and began to shuffle them, then drew them out to show a thin thread connecting them which was clearly visible in the strong sunlight. He wove his hands across each other to show how he manipulated the thread. Unlike earlier, his hands never left the end cards. 

“He wouldn’t stoop to that if he had magic-” one of them said to the leader. 

“If he was dodging service? He’d stoop to anything,” the leader said. 

Declyn gave her a brittle smile, biting back comments about the nobility of murder and being used as the pawns of a tyrant king, about the reasons a person might not want to be a living weapon- but they were words in defense of someone who would be best served if he kept his mouth shut. “I repeat my deepest apologies for my insolence. Now, if you would return me my tent, respected mages, I shall be on my way.” 

With a wave of her hand, the leader brought back the tent neatly folded. “I’d leave this fair, were I you. You’re an embarrassment to yourself more than you are to our fine institution. Magic is not a toy, and you are out of line.” 

“I’m glad to have a reminder of my place,” he said with a wide, insincere smile. He swept everything on the table up in the velvet cloth and tied the top. “A simple person without magic such as myself forgets.” The table collapsed with a bang and he slung it over his back with two leather straps he’d attached to the base. The chairs folded, the tent could be carried slung over his arm. The illusion was broken, clear as anything. He held the chairs out at an angle from him as he walked past, forcing the mages back out of his path, and he let the bottom of the table drag along the grass, flattening it. A little petty, but what could they expect? 

More than anything, he wanted a final quip about Jake to the woman, a smooth exit line, and he would have dared it if he was alone. But the chairs were a barrier, the grass was flattened so it wouldn’t show footsteps, and those simple tricks were one of the less graceful flourishes in the most elaborate and longest-running con of his. 

Invisible as he had been in the tent when he moved the cards, swirled the breeze, handed Declyn the bottle and read the cards over the woman’s shoulder, a true mage followed Declyn out to safety. 

What better place to hide than with someone who any accusations against would look ridiculous?

And how better to scam people with magic than adding a real mage to your battery of card-tricks, illusion, and ability to read people? 

*

The road stretched out over the horizon through green stretching in every direction. Tufts of grass sprung up in the dirt road, blowsy white flowers lay sprinked like spilled popcorn in the fields, the smell of dust and wild garlic and the unrepentant blue of the sky arching above them anchored the two travellers into the moment. Fat drops of fuzz buzzed through the air, bumblebees similarly intent on their destination. The men’s backs were bowed with the weight of their possessions, and the one-two scuff of their feet in time beat a familiar pattern. 

There wasn’t silence between them; that space was too filled with birdsong, chirping insects and the occasional exhale as one adjusted the heavy pack on his back.

Declyn didn’t look as striking outside of his fake robe, he was of medium height, medium build, and had hair and eyes the same colour as the road. The mage also didn’t have an appearance which might have betrayed his identity, not in the same way the leader’s confident posture might have. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and heavy eye-bags gave him a look of perpetual exhaustion. That exhaustion was most often directed at the partner in his illegal double-act. 

When Declyn had run into him fresh out of running from the army, he’d been a mess of sharp angles and edges, eyes never able to stay in one place or meet another person’s, skittering between attacks of insult and defenses of overdone apology. Now, he could be hardly described as relaxed, but he could fall into playful banter or slow contemplation with Declyn easily, or their winding, passionate conversations which tried to set everything right in a society they existed in the periphery of. Rest, hearty inn food, being less anxious and not pushing his magic as much had rounded out the edges of his face and body. 

Declyn watched as Virgil scrunched his face up and tilted it into the sun, leaving his eyes closed longer than he’d be comfortable with if he were anxious. Once Virgil had blinked his eyes back open, it seemed now would be as good a time as any to bring up the raid. 

“Thank you for following me out, Virgil, I do appreciate you not trying anything hasty. Fireballs are not as much your forte as invisibility.” 

“That was one time!” Virgil protested. “I’m not the one who got us run out of town for somehow finding a real truth serum to sell the mayor.” Declyn knew he wasn’t annoyed as his tone would have suggested to someone else.

“Now that it’s over, we can laugh about it!” Declyn said. “The admission he was hoarding grain really did cause such consternation! Nothing so exciting had happened in that little town for years.”

“We could laugh if I didn’t almost get an arrow in the ass,” Virgil grumbled, but the corners of his mouth were twitching up despite himself. His low voice and withdrawn expressions were only intimidating five minutes into meeting him, Declyn thought. After that, they were practically endearing. 

“Oh, of course, of course,” Declyn said, voice dripping with sarcasm. The effect was lost because he, too, was smiling. Encounters like the one earlier could really spook Virgil, and he was glad this one hadn’t as much. 

One-two, one-two. They didn’t even notice how in time their footsteps were.

“You did a good job,” Virgil said. “They were idiots, not High Command, and that helped a lot. But you weren’t too bad.”

“Why, thank you, Virgil,” Declyn said archly. “I shall remember your effusive compliments for the rest of my days.”

“Course you will,” Virgil said. He tilted his face into the sun once again. “This weather would be nice if it didn’t make you so fucking sweaty.”

“Strike two for being charming. I feel I might just swoon away.”

“You’re the silver-tongued one of the group - as you keep telling me they called you in your home city.” Virgil teased. “So you should be doing the flirting.”

“They also said I was cold-hearted.” Declyn’s face twisted into a pantomime of disgust. “Rue the day I flirt with you.” 

They laughed together, the noise swooping over the birdsong and buzzing insects, a natural part of the summer landscape. 

“The thought of you being in one of those little squadrons is bizarre,” Declyn said. “You’re so not a team player.”

“Yeah, not a huge fan of groups,” Virgil said. “Or leaders. Or orders.” He shrugged. “Or the group hating you for not following cruel orders, but that’s just the way of that kind of structure, isn’t it?” 

A rebellious village who wouldn’t pay taxes after a poor harvest; being pushed into formation by his leader; the order to burn and destroy what the crown couldn’t have- 

a deluge of water to put it all out which shocked them so much they didn’t trace it to Virgil until he was invisible and untraceable in the woods. 

“It’s best to work alone, this we both know well,” Declyn said. He’d struck off alone when he was just barely sixteen, leaving the crowded city he’d been born in where his cup games and card tricks had to jostle with hundreds of others scratching and pushing for a living, heading for the novelty of the mountains and travel. Even before, he’d been a solitary child- how much that was a choice and how much he’d driven away other children in his deceitful schemes and scheming deceits was a matter of interpretation between him and them. He was always wanting, wanting, wanting, and until he met Virgil and began to work even more elaborate schemes, he thought there wasn’t even a chance his ambition could be satisfied.

Virgil nodded. “Nice to work alone with you.”

There was a not-entirely serious lilt to his voice, and it quietened something inside Declyn. He gave Virgil a cordial nod, also not entirely serious. “Likewise.”

Virgil gave a little evil laugh. “That’s right. You’re stuck with me.” 

Diamonds

“Virgil, never in my life have I met someone who washes brambles straight off the hedgerow. Please, eat them like a human being.”

Autumn meant walking back to the fires of the city, and walking meant stealing brambles (as Declyn would say) or blackberries (as Virgil insisted they were called) off the hedgerows they passed, along with the apples of any farmer who had let his tree grow too far over his fences.

Virgil plucked another blackberry off the hedgerow and hosed it down with a little stream of water he collected from the moisture in the air. His eyes glowed purple as he used his magic. “You don’t know where this thing has been.”

“On the bloody hedgerow!” Declyn said with a wild gesture at the clean-looking bush. “Where else?”

“Maybe there are insects in it, or maybe...a mouse has been there, or-”

Delcyn was bickering, but not annoyed. “Sometimes I forget you grew up in the palace, and at times like this-”

“You say that like I was a prince rather than a child soldier-”

“Child soldier, you’re so dramatic, you were a cadet at best-”

“And, yes, we did wash fruit, so we didn’t get sick-”

“Virgil,” Declyn took a big breath. “Are you completely sure that this innocent little berry, washed by the rains, dried by the suns, is less hygienic than some of the food we get served at the cheaper of the inns?”  

“Look, if an insect gets into a stew at least it’s not alive.” Virgil picked another one and washed it again. “Just let me live, dude.”

Declyn looked at the orange leaves which fell as they did every year, showing the turning of the seasons, the sky cloudy and stretching out to infinity, the dew-drops on a spider’s web which was itself a miracle of nature. Then he decided he was much too petty to let this go. “Of course, there’s nothing more normal than washing your brambles- sorry, blackberries -” He picked a ripe one and tossed it upward to catch with his mouth.

There was a flash as the blackberry disappeared and reappeared in Virgil’s own hand. He carefully hosed it down, eyes glowing with purple in a way Declyn knew was natural but nevertheless decided to read as an insult, and then handed it back to Declyn with a completely shit-eating grin. “Now you’re not gonna get poisoned.”

Declyn held up a single finger as he gathered his faculties.

Virgil couldn’t help snorting with anticipatory laughter.

“Never-” Declyn began

“Uh-huh?”

“-so insulted-”

“Oh really?”

“This is an affront, a misuse of your magic-”

“You sound like the leader I had when I was thirteen-”

Out of principle, Declyn threw the blackberry to the side of the road.

Virgil merely opened a hand and it flew back into it. He began to hose it off again.

“Virgil, not once in my thirty years of life have I felt the need to rinse a piece of fruit. I am not a bloody noble. Outside of the palace, neither drinking water nor food were so abundant.”

Virgil flicked his eyes over Declyn, to see if he’d gone too far. It wasn’t like tension could build up about their backgrounds with how often they bickered bringing them into it, but there were sensitive parts for both of them. “Give me a bet,” Virgil said.

“Pardon?”

“Give me a bet,” Virgil repeated. “The winner gets the other to eat his way.”

Declyn rolled his eyes. He knew Virgil was placating him, but...he didn’t mind too much. “Fine. The bet is very easy. You find a single insect on a blackberry, and you’re justified.”

“How’d you know I won’t lie to you that I saw one?”

Declyn gave Virgil a look. They both knew Virgil didn’t lie to Declyn. Whether Declyn did to Virgil they were much less sure about - or, Declyn was more unsure than Virgil seemed to be.

“Fine,” Virgil said. “C’mon you wriggly little motherfuckers...”

As Virgil poked around the hedgerow, Declyn continued contentedly eating blackberries, happy to pause walking for a short while. He scrunched his eyes and tilted them up into the weakening rays of the autumn sun.

Five minutes later, Virgil conceded defeat.

“I win, of course,” Declyn crowed. Even if Virgil had given it to him, victory was still tart and sweet as he popped a blackberry into his mouth.

Virgil took one of the highest brambles from the hedgerow. With ceremony, he placed it on his tongue. “Well,” he said after it was eaten. “I’m not dead yet.”

“No. I wish we could carry more of these,” Declyn mused. “It would be nice further on down the road…”

Virgil tilted his head as he thought about that. “You got that empty bottle from earlier? The one which had mead in it.”

“Unfortunately I might have possibly sat on my pack when we had lunch and there was a rather nasty crunching.”

Virgil hummed in thought. “Can you give me the pieces?”

Declyn rooted through his backpack and found the shards at the bottom, which he carefully extracted and put into Virgil’s cupped hands.

After just a moment focusing on the shapes, Virgil’s eyes began to glow as the edges of the glass shards melted and attached, so a crystalline bowl shape was made. “There you are.”

It looked almost like the kind of diamond dishes nobles would propose with.

“Yes, a thousand times yes!” Declyn said as he took it off Virgil. “Oh, my darling.”

“What the-” Virgil looked back at the bowl again and his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh!” He laughed. “Only the most expensive things for you.”

“My, it sparkles in the sun like how your eyes look when you hear your favourite edgy songs about ghosts and lost lovers started by a fair performer!” Declyn teased. “It’s almost as cutting as your comments! And it’s so deep-” He flashed Virgil a smile. “It still probably can’t carry as much as those eye bags, though.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, less into the play-acting. He seemed almost embarrassed.  “I thought I’d get you something as genuine as you are.”

Declyn held a hand over his heart. “You say the sweetest things.”

They walked on, filling the makeshift bowl with blackberries- “Brambles,” Declyn corrected.

“It’s my wedding too, I can call them blackberries.”

“If I call you handsome, can I call them brambles?”

Virgil’s cheeks went pink, and Declyn laughed, because he had won - even if he was pretty sure Virgil had still let him.

When they came into town, a group of kids in ragged clothing ran up to see the performers, and they handed over the blackberries as Declyn put on a show with close-up magic and Virgil sat and watched, seeing as he hadn’t had time to go invisible. Declyn drew coins out behind the children’s ears and left them with the kids. It might have to be a night on the grassy verge of the road, but Virgil didn’t think about stopping his partner.

They left the bowl with the kids too.

“It was Virgil’s wedding proposal to me,” Declyn said seriously.

“Really?” A girl tilted her head to look at it and assess it.

“No,” Declyn said. “It’s just glass, but don’t say that to whoever you sell it to. Besides, Virgil and I...” He met Virgil’s eyes. He’d been about to make a jab about how different they were, but that didn’t feel true. Maybe lying to Virgil was only hard when it hurt him. “When the time comes, Virgil will know when I’m proposing.”

“I’ll know when you con someone out of their dish and I help get it off them in plain sight,” Virgil joked, and warmth flooded Declyn’s chest. He’d kept his friend happy, and all was well in the world.

“You’re no good at sleight of hand,” Declyn said as if in answer to a question a few exchanges later.

The little girl wandered off, uninterested now that she had the dish.

“I don’t need it, I have actual magic,” Virgil replied.

“And you give yourself away so obviously!” Declyn said. “If it’s something like today and you can’t go invisible, you should still help.” He drew his cards out of their inside pocket of  his cloak. “Come, I should teach you.”

“Oh yeah?”

With a flick of his wrist, Declyn drew a card out of his sleeve. “This one is child’s play. Come on, at least try.”

Virgil laughed through his nose. “Only because it would piss everyone else off back home.”

Spades

It was the first snowy day of a crisp winter. As they walked in the icy cold, Declyn had teased Virgil about his cosy palace upbringing (that many mages could build crazily efficient central heating) all the way into town, and completely missed the purple flicker in Virgil’s eyes which preceded a pile of snow sliding down a rooftop and landing directly on top of him.

Declyn toppled over. The uncomfortably wet and unbearably cold sensation of snow soaking into every part of his being caused him to shriek in mild shock and not-so-mild irritation as Virgil laughed so hard he fell into the snow himself.

“And you-” Virgil was almost breathless. “You just-” He cackled. “Serves you right-” The way he laughed was bubbling and open, like a child- ha ha ha ha!

A sharp spike of something went through Declyn at the sight of Virgil, red-cheeked and eyes crinkled as he laughed in whooping bursts. He decided the spike was definitely a need for revenge. “Oh, Virgil!” He called in a sing-song voice. “I shall of course forgive this-” As soon as he had his friend’s attention he gathered up a pile of snow and lunged for Virgil’s neck. Virgil rolled out of the way at the last moment, flicking snow at Declyn. Not to be outdone, Declyn feinted right before darting his hand over Virgil’s wrist and using his knee to pin him down. He gathered a handful of snow and held it over Virgil’s face in triumph. “Any last words?”

Virgil’s chest kicked beneath Declyn and at that and his wide-eyed expression he let go immediately. “Too much?”

Virgil nodded, closing his eyes for a brief moment and pushing himself up. “Give me a moment, then I’ll utterly destroy you in a snowball fight.”

For a few moments, Declyn sat shivering as Virgil composed himself and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. Then he leapt to his feet with a wicked grin. “Ten seconds to prepare, then we go?”

Declyn matched Virgil’s expression. “Prepare to be decimated.”

*

When they tumbled into the inn, both were soaked and shivering. Virgil looked embarrassed to come into the building that way, but Declyn was riding high on his victory and came to the counter without a shred of shame at the snowmelt he was trailing over the entrance.

“A room for two, please.” It was cheaper than two singles.

The innkeeper gave the two of them a searching look. “That’s seven fiebri, three more for breakfast, and we only have ones with one bed left.”

“That’s quite alright.” It happened sometimes, and they were happy to just stick to their own sides.

The room was small and plain, but it had a lock to protect their possessions and a bed, and that was all they needed. They dumped their soaked packs by the fire in the hope they might dry by morning, then kicked off their damp clothes and pulled on new ones, playing over the highlights of their match, and deciding they were too tired for dinner.

It was very cold, as night fell, and Delcyn teased Virgil by putting his cold feet on his back, which resulted in Virgil heating himself up so quickly that Delcyn pulled his foot away with a yelp. They fell asleep quickly, exhausted by the walking and snowball fight that day.

*

Declyn woke up to Virgil cuddled into his side. He was soft, and warm. His breath whistled through his nose as he slept and Declyn was going to have a heart attack. It hurt to be so close. All of it hurt: the way the morning light drifted across Virgil’s hair, rumpled and a little greasy from travel and completely out of bounds for Declyn to touch, how defenseless Virgil was, the warmth pressed steady to his side, the scent of soap and smoke- the curve of Virgil’s cheek, how it had softened since he left the army, even his bloody eye bags which didn’t disappear after hours of rest-

Declyn could read cards and other people, nothing else. This pain was a foreigner in his body; he couldn’t translate what it was telling him. It was just Virgil.

Was he angry at Virgil? No. No, that felt all wrong. Jealous? Grieving? No, Virgil wasn’t going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.

They were stuck together, weren’t they? This was...it, now.

Declyn and Virgil. The same scam, the same routine, the same banter, the same understanding, the same room every night. To his horror, heat prickled at the corner of his eyes. That sounded perfect.

Scrunching his eyes shut to try and squeeze the tears away, he instead sent one rolling down his cheek and onto Virgil’s.

“-fucking inn-keeper,” Virgil growled without opening his eyes. His voice was rough with sleep and to hear the normal rasp of it from him now, with the foreign aching beating at Declyn’s breastbone like a second heart, was cataclysmic.

Suppressed sobs were tremors, tears flooded his eyes, and the wanting wanting wanting Virgil usually quieted in him was back, but as something entirely different. He wanted Virgil to be awake, and with him, and at the same time he couldn’t bear for him to see.

Naturally, Virgil woke at Declyn's slight shaking beside him. "Dec?" his eyes blinked open. "Oh, fuck, I..." He scrambled back to the corner of the bed, trying to give Declyn as much space as possible. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep, I swear. Maybe you can try and breathe with me-"

Declyn didn't know what to do. He threw Virgil's pillow at him. "I'm not panicking, you fool."

"...you kind of seem like you are, dude." Virgil got off the bed fully, edging towards the door. "Do you want space? I can hang out downstairs, give you time-"

At that, Declyn's sobs only increased.

"What- what is the matter, then?" He was panicking, and it was so like him, Declyn thought, and-

Declyn had never called a spade a spade if he could call it an ‘digging implement with exciting capabilities never seen before- you could even carry it by the handle!’ and sell it for twice the price, but Virgil was adamant about not letting Declyn even subtly convince or manipulate him. Besides, his words felt inadequate and flimsy. There was no dignified way to ask for what he wanted.

“Come cuddle me, you dumb fuck,” Declyn sobbed.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he came back to  bed, laying down besides Declyn. “Geez, they don't say you're silver-tongued and cold-hearted for nothing,” he grumbled. But he scooted up to Declyn and wrapped his arms back around him gently.

Declyn buried his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck, curling his arms in front of him as he squished against Virgil’s chest.

Virgil didn’t ask what was up, even though this was hugely out of character. He just held Declyn close and rubbed his back occasionally.

Needing to be close, not knowing why, Declyn wiggled his ankle between Virgil’s and in response Virgil tangled their legs together.

Virgil breathed deeply, already sounding like he was half back to sleep.

Declyn let their chests move together. He could feel Virgil’s heartbeat.

After some time, Declyn’s sobs tailed off but he didn’t want to let go. Still, he should compose himself, put himself back together, all of that…

But he didn't. Around them, the sound of people clattering around to get out of their rooms came through the thin wall, there was a distant crash, a shouted disagreement. They made the moment better, because they made it real. Declyn felt a puff of air in his hair as Virgil slid back into sleep, and he let his own eyes flutter shut. Just a few more minutes of this and they'd be on the road....

And so, Declyn drifted back off into sleep in the arms of his partner.

They woke up late, ran a game involving Virgil vanishing and reappearing dice, then walked to the next village, all without discussing it. That night-

“Single or double bed?” Another bored innkeeper, almost indistinguishable from the one in the last town.

Declyn grinned at his friend. “Still feeling cuddly, Virge?”

“Oh, I think a little birdie told me the answer-” In the same elaborate gesture as Declyn used to reveal the products of his close-up illusion, Virgil flipped his partner in crime off.

“Shame, really. You do run like a furnace. All that luxurious heat as a child must have soaked into your skin-”

“-and they say the streets of your city are covered in shit.”

The innkeeper was singularly unimpressed at their snarking. “One or two?”

Virgil shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to take pity on Declyn’s cold-bloodedness and say one.”

In a worldless negotiation of eyes and limbs, they found themselves tangled together before they drifted off that night.

Since it was winter, they said a week later, this new arrangement was sensible.

As the buds began to bloom into spring, it didn’t change.

Hearts

It was a hot afternoon, pregnant and storm-heavy, the kind of sky which made Declyn ache in wanting. Spring was ending, and endings made him antsy. Time to go, to move, to do...but they’d eaten their lunch in the shade of an oak tree and the light was dappling Virgil’s face, and the wanting stilled into restless playfulness.

“Come on, Virgil, indulge me and guess the top card of this pile.” Declyn shook the pack at him. “It’s brand new.”

“I literally saw you cut it open and remelt the seal yesterday,” Virgil said.

“Details, details,” Declyn dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Come on, do guess. No magic.”

Virgil stuck his tongue out at Declyn, but took the pack of cards and turned them over in his hands. “Uh...well, you said that people usually go for the picture cards, so it’s better to pick a number card. But then, you know I know that, so you might just pick a picture card, if this was for me and not someone else…”

Declyn didn’t reveal anything, putting on a very impressive poker face as he watched Virgil’s lashes tilt downwards as he looked down at the cards. Virgil cut him a searching look.

“Oh…” Virgil said, his face glowing more red than gold despite the yellow light.  

Declyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Virgil ran a finger over the seam of the cards, eyes glowing purple as he disappeared the wax effortlessly. “Ace of hearts,” he said simply. He tipped out the pack to reveal, as he’d said, the ace of hearts on the top of the pile. “Is this your card?”

“It is indeed,” Declyn said. “I’m impressed.”

Virgil gave him another untranslatable look. He flicked his wrist, and Declyn was looking in his eyes as the card disappeared, so he saw there was no real magic used. Sleight of hand.

Declyn raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you can surprise me without your magic?” But his voice was approving, and suggested he would very much like to be surprised.

At that, whatever the look was intensified, Virgil’s mouth setting in a competitive quirk. He shifted closer to Declyn. He put his hand into the pocket over Declyn’s chest, and from it pulled- “Is this your heart?”

“Card,” Declyn corrected quietly. The brush of Virgil’s fingers still burned warm against his chest.

“I know what I said,” Virgil said. He was more hesitant, his eyes shifting as they searched Declyn’s own. Looking for something. Scared, but not backing away. A flush rising in his cheeks.

What was Declyn’s heart? Frozen solid, a shouting foreigner, a traitor which now flooded his own face with colour?

Slowly, he reached out to push Virgil’s hand holding the card against Virgil’s own heart. He moved their hands again, to feel the fluttering of Virgil’s chest. Last night, his head had risen and fell as it laid on Virgil’s steady breathing. His lips parted. Words, however, had deserted him.

His eyes met Virgil’s again, and there was no beating in his own chest, even as Virgil’s heart thudded against his fingers. He recognised that foreign rhythm from inside himself, from the first night of snow. “Virgil,” he said distantly.

“Yes?”

“Virgil, how long have we loved each other?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Both of us?”

Declyn nodded.

“I- I loved you- shit, Dec, I don’t know. I just- I guess I thought about it dicking around with the bowl. When you got all excited about teaching me card tricks after. I dunno if it was before, or after, but around- around then.” Virgil was beginning to tear up. “Do you-?”

“I don’t know,” Declyn said. “I didn’t know. But I think-” He moved one hand from Virgil’s chest to clumsily wipe at his tears. “I think, yes. I do. For a long time, now.”

“Then come kiss me, oblivious,” Virgil said gruffly, a little choked-up.

Declyn leaned in without thinking more.

It was Virgil.  The scent of soap and smoke. A quirk at the corner of his mouth that he couldn’t control. Steady pressure, warm and soft. He made sense. He was real. The kiss was not everything Declyn had imagined - Declyn had been too stupid to imagine, too scared, maybe-

But had he tried to imagine, this was nothing he could pretend.

When they pulled away both of their faces were tear-tracked. “Absolutely no-one else can know we both cried like this,” Virgil said with a wet laugh.

“And no-one will,” Declyn said, wiping at his own eyes. “Your secret is safe with me.”

In the distance, the sky broke into rain. They could see the curtain of it hanging over the mountains, grey and misting. The air began to cool, even as far away as they were, and the golden light sharpened as if reflected off glass. It was the kind of weather which made Declyn curl up against Virgil’s side, letting his partner card his hand through his hair. Tension eased from the air, shivering the leaves above as it drained away into swirling breezes. The land rolled endless away from them, with its skeins of roads unravelling into the distance. They had travelled so many of them this spring, but the playful light made them look new once more. As always, the roads tugged a place inside Declyn he didn’t think would ever be subdued. That tugging would pull them to new adventures, every day as long as he followed it. For now, it was a sweet ache as they took their unhurried time underneath the oak tree.

They kissed again, long and slow as summer days. It felt a lot like a beginning.