#straight down through my window with light like it’s the full third of the sun the moon reflects. how can i describe this? it’s so beautifu

[quiets-cradle]

THE MOON IS SO BEAUTIFUL TONIGHT

[ninadove]

If the woman next to Nathalie is indeed Amelie and Emilie is still dead, how do you imagine Amelie and Felix will redecorate The Agreste Mansion? (Assuming that they move there since Amelie is now Adrien’s only adult relative left.)

Oh my gosh Anon. That is SUCH a cute ask, but let me tell you, you have opened Pandora’s box and unleashed 50 levels of overanalysis upon the world. Time for me to turn into an architecture and interior design major for the sake of this post.

In order to get a good sense of Amelie’s taste and of the massive work that needs to be done, let’s compare the shared spaces in the Agreste mansion to those in the Graham de Vanily penthouse.

The first thing that strikes me is that the palettes are exactly the same: white and black are the dominant hues, with a pop of colour coming from earthy tones. And yet, the two atmospheres could not be more different! In my opinion, this boils down to a few key elements: lighting, shapes, space, and purpose.

1. Lighting

The most obvious one. Just look how miserable the Agrestes’ living (?) room looks in comparison to the Graham de Vanily’s. There’s an interesting subversion here when it comes to lighting sources.

The Agrestes’ mansion relies mostly on natural lighting, which gives it a greyish, depressing look. Windows are everywhere, and they’re big, but they aren’t meant to let the sun filter through; instead, they ressemble a cage keeping Adrien in.

Sunlight represents the outside world, which Gabriel "No one matters except us" hates. In his mind, whatever looms outside of the mansion is dangerous. Hawkmoth’s attacks always start with letting the light in, the same way he welcomes his victims’ negative emotions; while he keeps Emilie safe in the crypt, as far away from the sun as possible (even when we do see it fully illuminated, it has to come from an artificial source).

Emilie’s cosy little basement, Gabriel’s office and Nathalie’s room — the adults’ world — are the only spaces that get the courtesy of significant artificial lightning. In other words, there is not enough light and joy coming in from the outside, and definitely not enough coming from the inside to compensate. Which is super sad if you ask me.

Now onto the Graham de Vanily penthouse. We do not get many shots of it, and most of them are taken at night time, which I (want to) believe is a very conscious choice on the writing team’s part.

While Gabriel refuses to let sunlight, and everything good it symbolises, into his son’s life, Amelie welcomes the night and the potential dangers it carries with it. The windows make up two entire walls, offering a full view of the outside world.

Notice how the moon and stars are nowhere to be seen in this shot, yet the penthouse remains significantly brighter than the mansion on the sunniest day. The abundance of artificial light in the Graham de Vanily home, light that comes from within, is a symbol of the love they share as a family.

So obviously, we need to get Adrien some lamps, urgently.

2. Shapes

The thing about the Agreste mansion is, it has potential.

No really. Hear me out.

The use of straight lines (vertical in the overall architecture, expanding like sun rays in the minimalistic decor) is reminiscent of Art Déco, which is a very fun style. For instance, it gave us the Chrysler building:

But here, it’s just… Not working. In fact, these same lines are what makes the entire building look like a cage — not just the windows I mentioned above, but the entire structure of the place, trapped between vertical lines like behind prison bars.

On the other hand, the Graham de Vanily penthouse is ruled primarily by horizontal lines, which expand the space instead of compressing it. It’s smaller, but it feels bigger and more breathable.

This difference in structure directly contributes to my third point:

3. Space

More precisely, how it is organised to make the mansion look threatening, and the penthouse cosy.

And by that I specifically mean this AWFUL NO GOOD TERRIBLE STAIRCASE.

It’s the first thing we think about when picturing the mansion; how it towers over the characters and crushes them. There’s a reason Marinette’s act of defiance in Pretension was to rush up those despicable horrifying very very bad stairs to find Adrien; they are a symbol of Gabriel’s power over his world, his fans, his son, his victims.

Interestingly enough, the penthouse is also built on several levels — which we can infer by the presence of a very discreet mezzanine. This implies the existence of stairs, right??? Where are they???

It’s very blink-and-you-miss it — the exact opposite of the Agreste staircase. To the Graham de Vanilys, stairs are just stairs: a necessity for their comings-and-goings, a useful infrastructure in their day-to-day life as a family. Not a display of power and control.

Oh? Is that a transition I sense? Absolutely, for it is time to move on to the last part of our analysis:

4. Purpose

Just like the staircase, every single piece of furniture in the Agreste household serves a purpose. Adrien’s room is the best example of this phenomenon.

On top of the essentials (bed + desk & computer combo), we immediately notice:

- A plethora of trophies, reinforcing the message that Adrien has to be the best at everything he does, always;

- An impressive bookshelf, illustrating the top-notch (and somewhat elitist) education Adrien has been receiving at home.

"But Nina!" you might ask, "What about the fun stuff? What about the arcade games and the basketball hoop and the climbing wall?"

I hear you. Those things look pretty cool, don’t they? Until you remember that Adrien has spent his entire life in isolation. These are all appliances that would normally be found outside of the house, giving him an opportunity to socialise. In other words, they are meant to deter him from seeking enjoyment in the “real” world. If, like me, you were obsessed with N Harmonia as a pre-teen, you might notice some striking similarities to his cage room:

Still not convinced? Say hi to our friend the foosball table!

Meanwhile, on the actually loving side of the family, you get an entire piano and AN ACTUAL ABSTRACT PAINTING:

It’s not even figurative — unlike the portraits of the Agreste family members or the statue in the garden, constantly reminding us of Emilie’s absence. It’s art for the sake of art, which makes a massive difference. Things are allowed to be there for no reason other than Amelie and Felix like them.

So now that we’ve established that

How would they redecorate the mansion if given the chance?

1. Lean into the Art Déco aesthetic for a much needed dose of actual (yet elegant) fun. There are so many lines and curves to play with to get rid of this feeling of imprisonment we get from the pillars!

2. BLOW UP THOSE FUCKING STAIRS. No, really. We can find a much cuter, less pretentious alternative to whatever kind of power trip that was.

3. Get rid of the stupid bars on all those windows. Replace them with literally any other option that doesn’t make you want to choke on a pancake.

4. Also, get some lamps. Lamps EVERYWHERE, on the walls, on the ceiling, on the furniture. The resident vampire is GONE, we can have some goddamn light in this goddamn place.

5. Indulge in the pleasure of buying things just because they’re pretty. Trash the paintings and put up some actual art (abstract or not) instead. Exorcise Emilie’s ghost and Gabriel’s tacky tastes out of this place. This process has already begun, given that the statue in the garden is now gone!

6. Let Adrien decorate his own room, and have fun with it. This part may be tricky because our boy doesn’t know what he wants, but you know what, it’s part of the process! Giving him total creative control over his own space is a first step towards his making bigger decisions for himself, like choosing what he wants to be when he grows up. As requested by my ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ @paracosmicfawn, he can also redecorate the entryway, which carries sooo much trauma for him. Maybe he can put up some cute cat statuettes along the new staircase, or something equally cheesy.

7. Build a pool, apparently

8. Last but not least, block all accesses to the basement and the attic. Hide them behind these new Kandinsky paintings they just bought. Pray to Gimmi Adrien never finds out (he will).

And that, my friend, is how you take a prison and turn it into a home full of secrets!

[laurelslegacy]

Lasan’s main capital description from my story “fall of Lasan”

The capital of Lasan, home of the royal family, was nestled in the middle of the base of white rocked mountains, the scraps past the city dotted with purple and red hued plant life. The streets had long since been cobblestone, the homes usually painted in a light white, one here or there out of wood or something far more modern, the roofs made of a cobalt blue tiling.

The Modern conveniences were there, electric street lights, some ramps panels for information and computer access. The shops some having illuminated holos to advertise goods or other promotions. Through the streets your typical hover craft, yet a few Lasat still prefuring animal or manual modes of operation.

All streets wove their way in a network like a spiders web to one location, the castle standing with it’s tall spires was introduced by a great hall, a massive pice of architecture alone. The walls and structure are made from Lasan marble, a white stone with clear tendrils of quarts, flecks of mica adding almost a gold or silver sparkle to it depending on how the suns were positioned. The flying buttresses in the cleanest of white, color splashing down as the sun moved overhead reflecting off the roof made of stained glass. It was said that each stone was meticulously mined and placed by the ancients long ago. The true age of the castle is a bit of a myth but the worn down marble from the lasat footfalls over time were clearly visible in the lower rotation of Lasan’s first sun. The tall windows held duplications of lasat Myths or historical figures in their moment of triumph.

Inside the hall are large swirling marble pillars to help hold up the ancient ceiling. Carved statues of former kings and queens presented, displays of armor and weapons from long ago standing guard from any shadow the bright hallway had to offer.

Beyond the gray hall was the main courtyard. Today it was packed full of Lasat. Colorful flags from each region adorned the hexagonal shaped room. Towards the back adjacent from the hall was a stage set up, high above on the third level was a great balcony, no hard rail, but mimicking arches of support echoed the buttresses in the hall.

It was here the King and Queen sat, the Queen at rule was center as the first sun was in ‘rule’, sat just behind them the three princesses, their hair done in fancy ways. The King with a full graying beard, the queen’s white hair set in a massive decorative style of curls on top of her head.

To her immediate right, a tall intimidating Lasat, perfect purple hued and deep purple stripes. A bright gold cape adored about his shoulders partly hiding the silver armor that sat above his olive and gold jumpsuit, the metals and honors on his left chest showing his rank of Captain of the Honor hard. Captain Garazeb Orrelios watched the busy crowd with a scrutinizing gaze. His ears perked, alert, flickering to one side or another as a sound caught his attention. He stood straight, his bo-rifle upon his back obscured a little by the shimmering gold cape. His attention only slightly pulled away from the crowd as two Lasat stepped onto the stage.

One, an older Lasat with gray hair and only chin hair, done up in formal black. Where Senator Torlay had a lilac shade to his fur his stripes had faded to more of a gray tone, his form older, but still showing strength. He was well cheered for by the crowd, a few curt comments made under the sound of the clapping. But when his rival stepped onto the stage…

The roar of the crowd, the cheers and shouts, all full of enthusiasm as if some great hero just walked into the room. The lasat praised their strength and had an honorable way of the warrior. So when outsiders would see Senator Dizillian Kalspur step up, a cane to assist him, his fur a softer grey and only the slightest of hints of stripes and a smaller lean form, the greeting was not expected.

Garazeb looked down to the lean Lasat and gave a smirk, standing just a little taller, focusing back to his post. He gave a partial step back as the Queen rose. With grace only royalty had, she raised her claws in the air, the light fine linen dress sighing in it’s brilliant white across her arms. As she raised her hand, the room fell silent. Both Candidates turned to her, kneeling one hand covering the other as they bowed their heads in a formal greeting.

[junkiepunkie]

Harry Potter era Wolfstar fic excerpt.

Hey peeps, this is half a chapters worth of my Wolfstar fic for your consideration. For context this chapter is centered around the moment the Dementors attack Harry and co on the Hogwarts Express...

September 1st, 1993.

The Hogwarts express was a fascinating thing. Too large and ominously lit to be comforting, and yet it held so many comfortable memories. Remus stepped on and welcomed the escape from the bitter cold outside. It was too early for the sun to have touched anything but the hills in Scotland. He had decided to arrive at platform nine and three quarters a couple hours before even the most eager families would, 3:30am to be exact. He'd done this in his first year, been the first on the train and fallen asleep for most of the journey, and woken up to a pile of chocolate frog containers stacked on his head by a certain James potter and some slap-happy second years who'd caught onto his game halfway through. Remus beamed at the memory as it flooded him. He walked down the carriages, drumming his fingers over each and every door, stopping at the third from the end. His compartment had always been this one, the one that he swore just had better seats and a nicer handle. He slipped in, hauled his suitcase up into the storage shelf, and slid down to the window-hogging section of the blue-green backwards facing seat. 

His breath caught as he noticed the burn mark near the corner of the window. Marlene and Dorcas had a fascination with lighters in their fifth year, and had stupidly trusted Sirius to hold one while they "changed into their robes" (made out violently). God, Remus couldn't believe he was back on this train, after all these years of denying he had ever had magic, denying he had ever known his best friends. It was for Harry, he reminded himself, he had to keep Harry safe. He pulled his robe up over his head, tucking himself into it as much as possible. He ought to get some sleep in him before the train was flooded with teenagers. It was only a second before he drifted off he remembered his Walkman and headphones and discreetly slipped them on, hidden entirely by his cloak. He pressed play -already in the clutches of sleep- to a mixtape of 'oldies' rock. Moments later he was drifting off to the sweet sounds of Marc Bolan and his revolution.

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

September 1st, 1971.

Remus was jolted awake by an eruption of laughter and a gentle shower of items on his head. He sat bolt upright without hesitation.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded as a swarm of kids in long robes and perfectly white shirts laughing came into focus.

At his tone alone most of the mob scattered, only the youngest looking few stayed, two of them sitting and one standing coolly in the doorway. Remus' eyes trained themselves on the least scared looking of the mob, a skinny short-ish boy with an unkempt yet somehow cool mop of black curls, round glasses, and a red and gold tie -that clearly wasn't his- on his head. 

"hey, hey, it's all in good fun mate!" the boy spoke with a middle-class London twang "it's just... right, to be fair you did fall asleep on a ten hour train ride full of teenagers."

Remus averted his gaze to the stack of items that had fallen off his head when he woke. He huffed with relief as he realised it was just empty sweets containers.

"oh. ehh... Sorry?" he offered with a laugh "you know you really shouldn't mess with strangers. I almost fucking beat you up."

The Londoner laughed, revealing dimples that seemed somewhat extra pronounced as the sun hit his light brown skin. The boy standing to the side -the one with hair like Remus' but a grin like the devils- also chuckled, but the boy directly across from him, the most chubby of the group, who's hair was chestnut and poker straight, looked scared out his wits. The Londoner noticed this and put a hand on the boys shoulder.

"You're all good Pete, he's not actually gonna punch you." he reached out his hand "i'm James potter, and this cutie is Peter Pettigrew, he's not great with confrontation."

Remus grinned, shaking James' hand firmly "noted. I'm Remus. Remus Lupin."

James smirked "well, Remus, I took the initiative to get you a couple of sweets. Didn't know what you'd like so i just got a little of everything."

He pointed to a small pile next to peter, who had now loosened up and began smiling. Remus looked in awe at the collection. 

"fuck off! How much do I owe you? cause i don't have much on me but i'll pay it back I-"

James chucked a chocolate frog at his head "don't be stupid! It's just sweets, you're not paying me anything."

Remus went to object but found himself physically unable to open his mouth, naturally he started to panic. He flailed for a few seconds before his mouth finally burst open. He gulped in the air around him like a mad man.

"Potter's rich. Don't give him a sickle." The boy -who Remus now knew from his accent was at least partly Scottish- at the door stated, his wand in his hands.

Remus stared at him wide eyed.

"what did you just do to me?!" he exclaimed "who are you??"

"what do you mean, it's just a charm- ohhh... muggleborn?"

Remus scoffed "not exactly."

"what do you mean not exactly."

"Barty-" James started

Remus shook his head. "nah, I get it. I'd want to know what that meant too. Dad's a wizard apparently but he didn't tell us, and my mums not, but also she's dead so, its not like that bit matters."

There was a moment of silence amongst the carriage before Barty spoke up again.

"right. well, sorry I brought it up. Erm... you know I hate to do this James but you know my dad and, since he might as well be a mud- a muggleborn, I'll be off." He began to walk off but then turned on his heel for a moment. "hey, scars!"

Remus groaned. A fabulous first nickname. "mmhm"

"if anyone gives you trouble the spell is Oscausi. Just point the wand at their face, and, well, you know what it does now I guess."

Remus nodded with a certain respect. He didn't know why Barty couldn't talk to him because of his heritage but he knew that the guy was alright. He watched as the Scot walked away, almost shoulder barging a smaller, long haired kid. Remus hadn't yet placed the gender,

"Black." Barty acknowledged.

"Crouch." the kid echoed, looking like they was about to fill the space Barty had left vacant, maybe even sit beside Remus. Barty put his hand out.

"A half-blood and a Potter. Your mother's still watching through the window."

The kid rolled his eyes. "and the day I find a toss to give about that birthgiving leech, i'll thank you for the heads up. Move."

Barty did as he was told and sauntered off quickly. "your funeral!"

The kid, on closer inspection, looked to be a boy. His dark wavy hair just scraped their shoulders, and his loose sleeved shirt and elegant black robes just screamed money. This kid was rich with a capital rich, but -Remus thought- he did look kind.

"Can I sit there?" he asked voice dripping with wealth, looking Remus in the eye. Wow. Remus hadn't seen eyes like that before, they were a greyish-blue but so light, yet deep. Like they were layered. The image Remus conjured in his brain for them was origami, so delicate and truthful. He nodded dumbly.

The posh kid smiled broadly. "good. I'm Sirius- ( Re d light. Screaming. Remus felt it like a bone in his cheek cracking.)  Black. And you are..."

(1996. "You were going to let him kill Snape, Padfoot! What was I meant to do!")

"Remus... Lupin. Remus Lupin."

"Cool name Lupin- ( LOONY LUPIN'S A WEREWOL-

"so, what house do you think..."

"Remus. I'm so sorry... it's the Potters. Sirius he-"

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

Remus almost threw up as he jumped out of his chair, noting only for a quarter of a second, a boy who he almost swore was James Potter. Harry, he figured, the blast from the past not helping his current situation of having his trauma unmasked.

"none of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go." 

It hurt to say that name.

The Dementor stayed where it was He took a deep breath and pointed his wand, picturing James' house on Christmas, and all the laughter surrounding the tree.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" 

[fullmetalfisting]

Link

Text under the cut for those too lazy to tap the link

Guy behind me in traffic was blinding me in traffic with his high-beams, so i violated his retinas with the full force of an afternoon sun

I was driving home from work and traffic was backed up pretty badly for a few miles. It was stop and go. When i get stuck in that, i'll usually back about 75 feet off the car in front of me so that i can hold a pace and move at a slow, but constant roll - like the semi trucks do. This way im not participating in the bumper to bumper move and brake like the rest of the smooth brain drivers.

Some dude in an Acura Crossover was behind me, and i guess he was getting upset because i wasn't 2 feet from the car in front of me, driving like a smoothbrain. So he gets up on my butt and starts beeping his horn at me. "Lol" i think to myself as i turn up my radio.

But then he starts flashing his brights at me, which is where i get annoyed. He's in one of those acuras that has the super bright LED headlights. My car is much lower than his, so his low beams are already pretty bright in my mirrors. Bright enough that i dont want to look in them. The first time he flashed his highbeams it put spots in my vision for a moment. It genuinely hurt my eyes. After the first flash, he waits for about 10 seconds, beeps his horn, and then flashes me again. Now im getting pissed. Im thinking "where the fuck do you want me to go? Do you really think being two feet from the car in front of you will make traffic move faster?" Then he flashes me a third time, but this time he held them on for about 15 seconds. Time for the gloves to come off.

During those 15 seconds, as im looking away from my mirrors, i see my 14,000 lumen searchlight sitting in my passenger seat, at which point I'm immediately overcome by a wave of chaotic-lawful excitement, what he has just set in motion can not be stopped. I think to my self "oh buddy....you just opened the wrongggg can of worms. You're gonna learn today"

I grab the flashlight and set it to its absolute max 14,000 lumen brightness setting. The flashlight has a sensor in it to automatically dim the light if facing down on a table, because otherwise the diodes would get so hot they would melt the lense.The 14,000 lumen setting is so intense, the 57 watt-hour battery can only hold it for 180 seconds before the flashlight automatically notches down to a measly 9,500 lumens. During those 180 seconds, the light will burn through 15% of it's battery power. For reference on just how bright this is, *the literal fucking sun* emits a luminosity of 11,000 lumens per square foot on a bright and clear day.

I turn around and aim it straight out the back of my rear window. My car is pretty noisy, so before i turn it on, I rev up my engine to make sure captain smoothbrain is eyes forward when I violate his retinas with the full force of an afternoon sun. I hit the power button and can only imagine the freight train of shock and pain that plowed over this man. It was so bright, his automatic headlights shut off because the car thought it was daytime. With the light on, i could see him clear as glass through his tinted windshield, he was covering his eyes and looking down. Probably screaming. I watched him try and flip down his sun visor, but his hand couldn't find it, as i thought to myself "Burn you motherfucker....burn". I imagine my facial expression was similar to that of a 6 year old roasting insects with a magifying glass on a bright summer day. After about 5 seconds of blinding light, i took mercy and shut it off. He proceeded to back way the hell off, and move over to a different lane.

Was this an unsafe thing for me to do? Absolutely. Was this illegal? Almost certainly. Was it warranted? Without question. Possibly the highlight of my year

Drive safe, and dont be a dick to the car in front of you. Because they might just have the tools to teach you a lesson.

TLDR: Dickhead in traffic was excessively flashing his highbeams at me, hurting my eyes, because I couldn't go faster than the car in front of me - so I showed him how it feels.

__PLEASE NOTE: THE CONTENTS OF THIS POST ARE MY INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, AND ARE PROTECTED UNDER COMMON LAW COPYRIGHT. ANY UNAUTHORIZED DISSEMINATION OF THIS POST WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION IS COMMON LAW COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT__

when the cop pulls you over and you hit them with the unbridled power of the sun

[sighwtf]

My garden.

The other day I woke up and my garden wasn’t my garden anymore. It used to be a small plot of land where grass didn’t even grow, but now it had bushes, flowers, and trees of all kinds: fruit trees, ornamental trees, all of them as tall as the house. It was so full of foliage that I couldn’t see the other end of the place, I had no way of telling how big the place was anymore. But the thing that stood out the most to me was the stone paths. There were three separate ones, starting from my backyard door, and each seemed to take you to a different part of the garden.

Before that day, I had spent a few weeks not coming out of my house, rotting away in my bed until the garden appeared. It took me two days to gather up the courage to venture into it, during those two days I would stare out of the window into the garden, feeling a sense of uneasiness, like any person with common sense would do. But it seems I didn’t have enough of that in me. During the nights I could hear the sounds of crickets and frogs singing and the occasional owl gently cooing. On the third day, I finally went in.

That morning was sunny and as I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast, I studied the garden and heard the loud sound of cicadas coming from it. It was almost alluring, the way the wind swayed the trees from side to side, the sun finding cracks on the trees to come through and cast its light onto the white stone paths. I finished my glass of orange juice, opened the sliding door, put my shoes on and walked into the garden, choosing the path in the middle.

I looked around, at all the trees and plants that had grown overnight. None that I had ever seen before, at least not in person. The plants in here weren’t native to the area from what I could see, they weren’t native to each other either. A rosemary grevillea shouldn’t be able to grow next to a flowering dogwood but here they were. Their kind, separated by land and ocean, but growing in each other’s shadow in this place.

I walked for a few hours that day and I would be lying to you if I said I found the end of the garden. What I found was a pond with a tree that grew yellow flowers hovering on the side. I turned around after that, deciding it was enough exploring for the day, and went back home. I thought about the garden the whole night, tossing and turning in my bed.  

I went back the next day, of course. And the day after that, and the day after. Until it became a routine. The garden had consumed my life. I would wake up early in the morning, pack food, water and a few books on trees and venture into the well-kept foliage. I’d spent hours walking alongside the path, trying to name every tree, bush, and flower I came across. Once the sun would go down, I began the journey back home. That was one of the rules I gave myself at first. No staying after dark. The garden wasn’t an inviting place in the night, even when I could see it had lamps that would turn on all night and light up the place, I didn’t dare myself to go in.

The other two paths were just like the first one, they didn’t lead anywhere special. So far, I have found the pond, and there was a small shrine too, and also an empty field with tall grass. But nothing too exciting. I felt that the most exciting thing I could find would be the end of this place, to hit a wall or a fence, but so far nothing. All there are is trees and a never-ending stone path that curved and went in straight lines like there were no space limitations.

One time as I walked a rabbit came out of nowhere from a bush on my right, it ran across the path and disappeared into the other bushes to my left. I looked into the trees and even though it was clear, you could even see the grass underneath them, I didn’t dare to get out of the path. There was something in the back of my mind that told me to stay away—no straying from the path. That was my second rule.

No taking fruits. That was my third rule so far. There were oranges, apples, mangos, apricots, star fruit, mangosteen, and so many other kinds. But no matter how juicy, sweet and ripe they may seem I never take them; I don’t eat them, I even refuse to touch them. The garden doesn’t seem like a malicious place to me, but it also doesn’t seem like the kind of place that gives without taking something back. There is no reason I should disrupt the unknown.

I’m not exactly sure how many days it has been since the garden first appeared, but I’m willing to bet it’s been weeks. That day I did my usual routine: woke up, had breakfast, packed a bag with food and a few books and went into the garden. I usually would roam for hours, trying to find a new path, and as time went by I started to get familiar with the layout of the place. I knew that a few meters into the left path, passing the enormous silky oak, taking a turn left, you could find the most magnificent and delightful marble fountain with a lady in robes pouring water from a vase. If you walked in a straight line through the path in the middle, without taking any turns, and once you found a group of saguaro cacti you then took a turn right and at the end of that path you would find a wooden gazebo with vines growing on its sides. There were also the pergolas full of green grape vines, or the big rock with a symbol carved on it. All of those places were ingrained in my brain by now, so I constantly went in looking for something new to add to my palace of knowledge.

But after a while, it became more difficult to find new places, no matter how many turns I took, something was stopping me from finding more and even less of the end of the place. You might think that after so much searching around you’d be able to hit a wall or something. It was as if the place kept growing, but it didn’t gain any space. The constant expansion simply didn’t let you reach the end or anything further than what you already knew.

Then, lunchtime came around and I headed to the pond—I usually rest and eat there. It was so peaceful and you had a full view of the sky, not covered by any trees. But this time, as walked through stone the archway that led to the pond, I froze in fear at the sight of a person sitting on the edge of the water. I stood there, not knowing what to do, there was nowhere to hide, I was in plain sight, my only relief being that they had their eyes closed and didn’t seem to have noticed me yet.

I should have headed back where I came from, back to my house. But what the fuck? There is a stranger in my garden. I’m not leaving and letting them stay. So, I put my big girl pants on and walked—very carefully and slightly afraid—over there and stood across the pond opposite from them. Now that I was closer, I could see them clearer. They had long slick black hair cut symmetrically and they wore a sort of robe-like garment with faint reds, blues, and a gold pattern, their face was painted with black lines on the cheeks and forehead.

I stood there, like an idiot; not knowing know what to do or say. So, I sat and continued to stare. Hopefully, they would open their eyes soon and see me. Then, I would have a thing or two to tell them about trespassing property. For now, I will be considerate enough to not disturb their meditation—because God forbid, I confront someone for breaking into my property.

“You’ve spent too much time in my garden.” They suddenly said. I jumped, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. Their voice was like a gentle breeze, deep like the pond and clear like the sky above us.

I broke out from the sudden trance I had fallen into due to their voice. “You’re garden?”

“Yes.” They finally opened their eyes. Completely white, cloudy eyes stared at me.

“This is my garden.” I laughed in disbelief, feeling my voice quiver. How dare they? Trespassing and now this?

“Is it?” they crocked their head to the side, their mouth in a mocking pout.

“Yeah! I live back there, in the house.” I pointed in the direction of my house.

“What house?” they asked. I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out. I gaped at the situation trying to decipher if they were making a fool of me or if they were being serious.

“M-my house. There…” I mumbled, unsure of my knowledge. Was my house actually back there? “Who are you?”

They suddenly stood up in a single swift movement, their drapes flowing with the wind.  

“Would you like to walk with me?” said, voice still gentle, and soothing. They offered me their hand. I hesitated but for some reason, I still got up and walked towards them.

Once I stood by his side they began to walk and I followed. We walked in silence along the path, only the sounds of trees rustling and birds chirping.

“Are you God?” I asked in an act of bravery immediately feeling stupid. They laughed, a soft laugh that felt like falling in a pile of cotton.

“Not at all. Would you like me to be God?” they were smiling, I couldn’t stop looking at their smile.

“No.” I shook my head. “I was just wondering…” I felt a little embarrassed now. “If this is your garden, then why is it in my backyard?”

“Why do you think it’s there?” a bird flew by us. “Maybe your house is in my garden.”

“That makes no sense.” I frowned. How could my house move somewhere else? But the same goes for the garden, how could it move, then?

“I think you need to go outside.” What the hell did that mean? A strong breeze flew by knocking a large number of leaves from their branches. I didn’t notice at first but once they started falling, they turned all sorts of browns and oranges. Just like autumn.

“I am outside,” I said, confused. The temperature lowered, a chill ran down my spine and I had to stick my hands in my pockets.

“You are not. You need to go out.” They stopped in front of me and offered me one of those intoxicating smiles while placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You don’t belong here.”

I looked around and suddenly the trees had no leaves, the sky was grey and the grass was yellow. The words that came out of their mouth made no sense to me. If not here, where do I belong?

“It was nice having you over.” They guided me through the path until I could see my house in the distance.

“I don’t understand. I like it here.”

“You can’t be here forever, kid.” They said, in a comforting tone. “Out there can be scary sometimes, right?” they sighed. “I was hoping you would break those rules of yours. The garden is meant to be enjoyed, not feared. Maybe you are not ready yet.”

We were at the end of the path, my house just a few meters away.

“Ready for what?” they laughed, not in a malicious way. In the way you would laugh at a child saying something unintentionally funny.

“You need to live some more first.” I felt their hand gently push me forward. “I hope to see you again someday, maybe then you won’t fear this place anymore.”

I stepped off the white stone and looked back to see them waving at me, that kind, soft smile still on their face. I looked up at my house, an icy cold feeling forming on my chest, sliding down to my stomach and pooling there, making my legs feel like they didn’t belong to me. My heart rate picking up. I looked back, wanting to search for that comforting smile but all that was there were the three walls of my empty backyard.

I looked forward and walked into my house, grabbed my keys and drove to the nearest garden centre.

The cashier was very nice. They gifted me a bag with a succulent print.

[touyasdoll]

Dreaming

Follow up to this drabble.

Minors DNI

Pairing: Denki x reader

Warnings: car sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, biting

——————

The sun had quickly tucked itself beneath the horizon, leaving just the stars and dimmed, yellow streetlights to light your way. Denki fumbled with the keys in his hand once you found his car in the sea of vehicles outside of the concert venue.

It didn't help that you were standing behind him, kissing along the part of his shoulder that was exposed beneath his tank top while your hands roamed to the front of his shorts, rubbing gently at the base of his cock. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat as he suppressed a groan, frantically clicking the unlock button before throwing the back door open and sliding across the seat, taking your hand in his to pull you inside and straight into his lap.

He reached over to pull the door shut before capturing your lips in a frenzied kiss and resting his hands on your ass to give it a firm squeeze as your knees fell on either side of him. You carded your hands through his hair, giving it a gentle tug while you rolled your hips on top of his. He pressed your hips down, shifting his hips upwards to meet yours as a low groan left his throat.

"I'm not dreaming, right?" He chuckled between kisses, his hands wandering up your sides to pull at your tank top until your bra was exposed.

"No," you giggled quietly, reaching back to unhook your bra while you sucked on his bottom lip, nibbling on it gently while he helped you shed the garment, leaving your breasts completely exposed for him to massage in his grasp. "But if this was a dream," you moan, arching into his touch as his mouth closes around your nipple and you cradle the back of his head. "What would you want to happen?"

"Mm," he closes his eyes, tongue toying with the sensitive nub, one hand pulling gently at the other while his other hand slips back over your ass and he looks up at you through his lashes. "If this were a dream? I'd already be inside you, baby."

His lips connect to your neck, tongue roving over your heated skin as he kisses and sucks and you keen, tossing your head to the side as you pant and run your hands over his chest, undoing his shorts in a hurry.

"What're you waiting for then?" You tuck your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and he's quick to lift himself off the seat, allowing you to free his leaking cock. "Fuck," you marvel at his length as you spread the precum on his tip along his shaft, stroking his cock languidly. "You're gonna stretch me out so good, aren't you?" You smirk, kissing along his jaw to his neck, sucking on his pulse as his hips buck into your grasp.

"Fuck yes I am," he sighs, hands scrambling to undo the front of your shorts while you grasp his shoulders as he spins you to the side, laying you down to hunch over you while he peels your bottoms off.

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whine, toying with your clit as you spread your legs wide. “Please..”

“Oh my God. I must be dreaming,” he shakes his head, leaning over and diving between your thighs while he pumps his cock, moaning between your folds while he takes a generous taste of you, tongue pushing it's way inside you while his nose nuzzles against your throbbing clit.

"Shit," you groan through gritted teeth, pushing your fingers into his hair to lift it away from his face as you watch him greedily lap at your core.

He slips his middle finger inside, tongue laving against your clit while you clench around his digit, tossing your head back and shifting your hips forward, fucking yourself on his finger.

"You really want it, huh, baby?" He murmurs, kissing your sensitive bundle of nerves while he grins up at you, adding a second finger.

You nod, mouth hanging open, brows knit together as you throw your hips forward faster while he kisses and nips at the skin along your innermost thigh, his moans vibrating through his lips.

"C'mere," he sits up, curling two fingers at you and you comply, tossing your leg over him as you sit up to straddle him.

He holds your hip, his cock pressed between the two of you, keeping you in place while he tucks a finger beneath your chin, holding it under his thumb as he looks into your eyes.

"Hey," he speaks quietly, a gentle smile on his lips. "I know things are moving a little quick right now, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I really like you. I'm not trying to just hit and quit it, okay?"

It takes a moment for his words to permeate your lust-adled brain, but your eyes soften when they do and you rest your hands on his neck, swiping your thumb along his jaw as you search his gaze.

"I'm not trying to do that either," you smile softly, "I really like you, Denki."

"Really?" His eyes light up, full of hope and excitement that melts your heart.

"Really," you nod, a breathy laugh leaving your lips as you press them to his.

His fingers press into the flesh of your hips as he sinks you down onto his cock, groaning into your parted lips while you keen at the stretch before claiming his lips again, moving them more needily against his while you roll your hips, letting your arms drape around his neck.

The windows fog, the cab of the car becoming thick with the smell of sex and the tension of young love, avidly being explored in the easiest way there is to navigate it.

His hands are all over you, mapping out every dip and curve of your frame while your hands dig into his shoulders, your new favorite set of handlebars, as you ride his cock, burying your face into the crook of his neck as the pressure between your legs builds and builds and builds, so close to crumbling as you whimper in his ear.

He slips a hand between you, his middle finger swiping back and forth against your clit while he coos in your ear, "You gonna cum for me, beautiful?"

You don't get the chance to respond before you're gushing in his lap, shaking in his grasp as his arms close around you, holding you in place against his chest while he leans back and thrusts up into your, wanton groans and grunts echoing off the clouded glass windows until he pulls out, his cock slapping against his abdomen as it erupts, spilling his seed onto his sweat-slicked skin.

"Still think you're dreaming?" You smile against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to it as you lean back.

"Yes," he chortles, still breathless as his hands slide up and down your thighs. "I'm not the brightest bulb, but I know enough to recognize that you're outta my league."

"Shut up," you shake your head, pushing on his shoulder playfully as you sit beside him to gather your clothes and start pulling them on. "I uhm, I was thinking though, if maybe you'd like to just come back to my place? I'm sure Mina wouldn't mind giving Kiri and Kats a lift if you wanted to just head there now?"

"I'd like that," he nods, lifting his hips up off the seat to pulls his boxers and shorts back up. "If you're sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure," you grin, leaning in and kissing him sweetly as you turn to face him, sitting sideways on the seat while you chew on your lip, looking him over with adoration in your eyes. "I'd really like to spend the night with you, if you'd be willing to stay. Maybe we could go for a round two?"

You lift a brow, dancing your fingers along his collarbone and he perks up, "Yeah?"

"Maybe a third or a fourth," you shrug nonchalantly, a sweet smile on your lips as your watch your fingers glide across his skin and briefly glance up at his electrified eyes. "Whatever you're up for."

"I'm up for losing count, baby," he chuckles, pushing his hands into your hair to pull your lips to his, kissing you deeply. "I'm up for whatever, long as you're there."

[liliumsabyss]

Forever

Ch.1, Ch.2(You are here),Ch.3

Chapter Two:

Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax x Male reader

TW: Past Lover, Non-Canon stuff, Kinda of angsty(?), Slowburn, mention of death, Slight make out scene that’s really awkwardly written, No Childe this chapter

Warning this series will be slowburn and include angsty themes, some violence, character truma, death, and past lovers much like the game Genshin, just be aware of that. I will try to put TW’s but they may be slightly general so dicretion is advised.

Word Count: 2.1k

Key:

(H/c) = Hair Color

(E/c) = Eye Color

(S/c) = Skin Color

Third POV:

The (h/c) haired male sat at the base of a large tree to seek shelter from the intense rays of the sun, the male hummed in concentration as he tied knots into the blades of grass below him.

“ Darling!” A voice called out from several yards away. (Y/n) looked up to see his lover, his blonde hair waving in the light breeze reflecting the sun. He was in his uniform which was charcoal with dark blue accents to it. (Y/n) ran to his lover throwing his arms around him kissing the corner of the tall blonde males mouth. The blonde male wrapped his arms around his lover waiting for the other to pull back. When the other male did, the taller scoops up his partner with his arms underneath the (h/c) haired males knees and back. The blonde males strength never ceased to amaze (Y/n) but it made sense considering he was an amazing swordsman, one of the best. The couple soon arrived under the large tree the (h/c) haired male had been previously sitting under the lovers lied under the tree with the blondes head in his lover's lap as said lover fiddled with his hair calming the both of them down.

“ Mon amour,” (Y/n) started, combing through his partner's hair “ Is everything ok? You seem more stressed out recently?” He continued, treading carefully as not to upset the blonde.

The blond chuckled shaking his head “ Darling, you have always been good at reading me haven’t you,” he said sweetly with his eyes looking straight into (Y/n) orbs with a gaze so full of love “ But yes you are right, the archons of other nations have been becoming more restless I believe if we don’t tread lightly something could happen, of course none of the higher ups believe me.” The blonde finished scoffing at the ridiculousness of his statement, the other just hummed leaning down locking his lips with his lover briefly before pulling away. Except the blonde had sat up and faced the other with the other's face looking confused briefly. The blonde grabbed his lover's hips pulling him into his lap then moving one of his hands from the other’s hip to the back of his head. He pushed his face into the others with their lips meeting, taking the (h/c) haired male off guard but soon reciprocated the kiss with the blonde using his hand behind the other's head to deepen the exchange, soon pushing his tongue into the other's mouth. The (h/c) haired male moaned slightly into it, the exchange didn’t last very long but was passionate expressing one another’s love for the other. After the lovers pulled apart they lied down with (Y/n) burying his face into the blonde chest (I love man tiddies <3)  as the taller put his arms around the smaller bringing him closer to his body.

“ I love you infinitely my darling.” The blonde hummed to the other putting the head on top of the others.

“I love you too mon amour.” The (h/c) breathed out before lulling into sleep.

(Y/n) yelled out, sweating, sitting up fully in his bed. He whipped his head around only to realize he was back in his room, that the past memory he had experienced was just a dream. The light of morning cascaded into his room illuminating the whole room and birds chirped a song outside his window. Too bad the song was erratic after all it had been spring and those creatures were horny little bastards. (Y/n) grumbled as he got out of bed changing into uniform which was casual but professional enough for his workday, after he entered his bathroom styling his (h/c) hair to what he desired, and brushed his teeth. But on his way out he stopped, grabbing his vision and discreetly placing the green gem under his coat out of sight. Then he opened a drawer which held a photo of the same male from his memories, this time it was a smaller handheld painting smaller then ones palm the blonde stood in a suit that complimented his figure he had a distant smile on his face, this is one of the very few paintings he had of the male to which the others had been lost with time. And next to the small painting was a ring, more specifically an engagement ring. It was a silver band that had a dark blue gemstone in the center, the ring was attached to a simple silver chain. (Y/n) reached in grabbing both the painting and the ring, he then slid the painting into his breast pocket and placed the chain holding the ring on his neck tucking it below his shirt. The male then left the house, walking down the cobbled streets towards the flower shop. He greeted many of the other merchants on the way to the store as they were quite friendly, especially with the owner as she had helped out many of them before. (Y/n) had met the owner shortly after coming to Liyue, she had graciously opened her doors and welcomed the male the two had become practically family. After all that she had done for him he still couldn’t even begin to thank her but to her he didn’t need to. She saw him as a son and he saw her as a mother and often referred to her as such. The male was quickly pulled from his thoughts noticing everyone had been preparing for something as he tried to rack his brain for what but couldn’t articulate what until it hit him it was the Rite of Deccension which meant the shop would be extra busy. He rushed into the shop, to be met with the shopkeeper with her hands on her hips and one of her eyebrows raised in expectancy.

“You slept in.” she said calm but accusing and almost scarily.

“Yes?” (Y/n) lightly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well what are you waiting for, get to work. C’mon, c’mon, c'mon we gotta hustle.” The small lady said pushing the equal in height male around as they prepped the shop since many people tend to come in on an event such as this. (Y/n) spent multiple hours tending to people's needs using his Dendro vision to supply the flowers when they got low and yet the whole day his eyes wandered to the pale yellow lilies and scarlet spider lilies which remained untouched almost invisible to anyone who stepped foot in the store. Once the Rite of Deccension started no one came into the shop leaving (Y/n) alone as once again the shopkeep had stepped away to do some other task. The (h/c) haired male waited until he heard a jingle catching his attention, seeing in the corner of his eye a head of light blond hair that appeared similar to the same man who had rested in a painting in his pocket. (Y/n)’s eyes widened as he whipped his head towards the source. But once again he was incorrect. It was a girl maybe slightly taller than himself and she wore a dress that was white and blue with gold accents. Clearly she wasn’t from Liyue, and it didn’t seem like Inazuma or Mondstadt either, making the (h/c) haired male curious. But next to her was a little child that was floating with shoulder length white hair, and a white jumper piece(?). This floating child if you could even call them that (Y/n) thought drew his curiosity even more.

“ Shouldn’t you be at the Rite of Deccension?” The male blurted out to the two others, but they only looked at him with shock and each other.

The floating child started to speak, “ You mean you don’t know… Rex Lapsis is dead” 

“W-what?” (Y/n) said in disbelief trying to figure out how that was possible, after all it isn’t the easiest to kill an archon especially if said archon was a dragon.

“ Yeah but Piamon and Lumine are going to-“ The child started to speak only for the girl who the male figured to be Lumine next to the floating child Piamon slapped one of her hands over Piamons mouth giving her a short glare. (Y/n) looked at the pair suspiciously as they were acting peculiar.

“ We just need to buy some silk flowers, that's all.” Lumine said quickly, trying to smooth over the situation. Making the other even more weary of the others. A jingle came from the door as a tall male walked in, he had walnut colored hair with golden and orange tips. He wore a formal outfit that was colored with deep browns, golds, and oranges. The (h/c) haired male quickly recognized the other as the local broke consultant Zhongli. The males confusion skyrocketed with this new appearance but as he looked at Zhongli with a look of pure confusion the golden eyed male only stared back at him with a glare as if to tell him not to question the incident.

“We will take them all.” The golden eyed male says quickly looking around the shop. As Paimon, and Lumine looked at him with shock.

“You mean Zhongli has that kind of mora!” Paimon yelled in shock.

But before Zhongli responded (Y/n) cut in shaking his head, “ No he doesn’t. That’s why they’re on the house and consider it a gift to Rex Lapsis to pay my respects.” The (h/c) haired male finished, glaring at Zhongli. 

“ Thank you!” The floating child said happily as the traveller nodded in agreement. (Y/n) started collecting the flowers tying gently ribbon around the large bouquet handing the flowers back to Lumine. As the group started to leave the (h/c) haired male ran out from behind the counter, he reached out and grasped the sleeve of the consultant. Zhongli turned back, staring at the (h/c) haired male, as Lumine and Piamon both looked surprised at the action. 

“ Sorry, I just need to talk to Zhongli for a second~” (Y/n) said with a closed eye smile. The traveller and floating child turned to each other shrugging leaving the shop. The (h/c) haired male’s smile quickly dropped into a look of seriousness.

“ There Morax, I'm no longer in debt to you, this should be enough for what you've done for me.” (Y/n) said daggers burning in his gaze which he held with the other male.

“ I highly doubt flowers pay off that debt.” The golden eyed male said back, not breaking eye contact with the other.

“ I'm not talking about the flowers, I'm talking about keeping your little secret.” The (h/c) haired male sneered furrowing his brows, “You think I don’t know what you are doing.” The male finished accusingly of the other.

“ Ah yes, I always forget your cleverness. I should’ve known you had figured out my plan by now.” The geo archon hummed back.

“ The only thing I’m questioning is who would help you?” (Y/n) seethed to the god in front of him.

“ Well lets just say one of the Harbingers happens to be a collector for lack of better words.” Morax replied, as the other male let out a brief scoff rolling his eyes out of frustration. 

“ The Fatui?” The male questioned rhetorically, “Of course, granted I shouldn’t have put it past an archon.” The (h/c) haired male said glaring daggers at the other but he saw a pang of hurt and guilt appear in the golden eyes of the archon. (Y/n) then felt that same pang of guilt and hurt after all they weren’t too different both losing their lover and cursed to live an eternity without them, granted while the archon could become mortal one day and eventually see his lover in the afterlife the (h/c) haired male did not have the same luck. (Y/n) had lost his lover in a different way. He couldn’t even become mortal once again, he couldn’t live, and he couldn’t die he was just there.

“I-Im sorry” (Y/n) said looking down clenching his fists. 

“ It’s okay, I can’t blame you. It is cruel things played out this way.” Zhongli responded sympathetically, starting to leave. 

The (h/c) haired male looked up seeing the other male leave called out barely recognizing his own voice “ You’re one of the lucky ones you know?”

“ I know” The other male nodded humbly before walking out of the shop with the jingle of the door ringing out behind him.

[demigodreading]

Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus​:  Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

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Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter.  I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N!  We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved. 

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention. 

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

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

Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment. 

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness. 

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

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The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day. 

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her. 

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

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

Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time. 

[bibbidibobbidibucky]

in his arms | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky's been gone for weeks on a mission and it starts to take its toll on Y/N.

Word Count: 1785

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! Smut, angst, language, hair pulling kink, very brief mention of death, and talk of cuts and bruises. Flashbacks are in italics!

A/N: My depression has been getting to me lately and I'm trying to see if this is a coping mechanism. Reading comfort stories usually helps me so I figured I'd try writing one. Feedback is always welcome and I hope you guys enjoy! 💕 Editing? Who's she??

24 days.

That’s how long it’s been since Bucky and half the team left out to go on a mission.  When it came to Bucky leaving it was usually just for a week or two and you could hear from him every now and again, but not this time.  To say that you hated it would be an understatement and you hoped he would home any day now.

You walked around your apartment that you shared with Bucky and nursed a glass of wine.  Technically it was your third glass and if you were honest with yourself you were just trying to nurse the pain.  The past 24 days had been your own personal hell since you weren’t able to be in contact with Bucky.  Not knowing how things were going or if he was even alive.  You pushed that last thought from your mind.  That was the last thing you needed to think about right now.

Alpine meowed as you walked over to the window where she was sitting on her favorite chair.  The chair that she usually sat in while being curled up on Bucky’s lap.  You scratched her head and she meowed again.

“Yeah, I know Al.  I miss him too.”

You smiled sadly and took another sip of wine as you looked out the window over Brooklyn.  The view before you was one of the big reasons that you and Bucky ended up getting this apartment in the first place.  It was too beautiful to pass up according to him and with that thought a small smile appeared on your face as you thought back to the day you two moved in.

“Okay.  I think that’s the last of it babe,”  Bucky smiled as he kicked the door shut behind him

“Thank god. I’m so tired and never wanna see another box again,” you laughed as you fell face down onto the couch for a much needed break.  The two of you were officially moved into your new place.  A place to call home.

Bucky smiled down at you and lifted you feet as he sat down on the couch, placing your feet on his lap.  He rubbed your calves and looked out at the window as the sun started to set.  He was happy.  Truly happy and he thanked his lucky stars that he was able to feel this happiness because of you.  Falling in love with you was something he didn’t take for granted and he just knew that he was gonna spend the rest of his life with you.

His thoughts were interrupted though when a soft snore came from you.  Not even five minutes on the couch and you were already fast asleep.  He chuckled and gently moved from the couch so he didn’t wake you.  He would let you sleep for now.  He kissed your forehead tenderly before looking over at Alpine.

“Let’s get some of this stuff out of the way and then order take out.  Whatcha think? Pizza? Chinese? ”

She purred as she rubbed against his leg and Bucky picked her up in one swift motion.  She meowed and Bucky smiled.

“Pizza it is.”

It was hard to believe that was just two months ago.  You had been in this apartment longer than he had and you missed him more than anything.  You just wanted to be in his arms and to have him home.  You teared up a little and downed the rest of the glass before reaching for your phone.  You pressed Bucky’s number and of course it went straight to voicemail like it had done for the last few weeks.  You knew you wouldn’t get an answer.  You just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.

“You’ve reached Bucky.  Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”

The tone beeped and you took a few seconds before deciding to leave him a message.

You bite your lip before speaking, “Hi baby, it’s me.  Look I know you can’t talk right now. I-I I just wanted to let you know that I miss you, Buck.  I miss you so much baby and I hope you and the rest of the team are okay.”

You had to stop for a moment as a tear spilled over your cheek.  The last thing Bucky needed to hear was you crying on his voicemail.

“There’s more I wanna say but I’ll wait till you come back home which I really hope is soon.  Almost a month without you has been awful and I miss cuddly up to you at night.  I miss a lot of things.”  You paused again, “I love you, Bucky.  I can’t wait to see you. Bye sweetheart.”

You ended the call and brushed the tears away that were now streaming down your cheeks.  You decided a hot shower before bed was what you needed right now to calm down.  That and maybe some melatonin later.

About ten minutes later as you were standing under the hot water you heard a noise that sounded like something being knocked over.  You brushed it off and just assumed Alpine was playing around and something fell.  You’d deal with it in a few minutes.

“Y/N?

You froze at the sound of your name and you thought you were hearing things.  You had to be right?  You slowly turned and saw the shape of Bucky through the fogged glass of the shower.  A small gasps left your lips and you smiled as he opened the door to the shower.

“I got your voicemail sweetheart,”  he smiled softly as he stepped closer to you.

You didn’t even give him time to say another word before you were pressing your lips to his in an endearing kiss.  The two of you stumbled back into the shower, not caring at all that Bucky was fully clothed.  The kiss consumed the both of you.  After being apart from weeks on end this was all you could do right now.  Words didn’t need to be spoken because everything that needed to be said was said in that kiss.

Small moans escaped your lips as Bucky picked you up and pressed you against the shower wall.  You couldn’t believe he was here.  He was finally home and you were finally in his arms once more.  You felt like your heart was gonna explode from how happy you were.

The kiss was broken as Bucky leaned back enough for you to help him discard his wet shirt and then his lips were back on yours.  You tugged on his hair as you held him close and a moan escaped his lips.  That sent a shiver all the way down to your core, causing you to grind against him.  The rest of his clothes were soon discarded and he was rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.  Moans filled the area as the two of you basked in the pure pleasure of just being connected again.  Of being just able to hold on another.

“Oh fuck. James.”

You moaned out his name blissfully as he pushed into you and you already felt like you were on cloud nine.  He squeezed your ass as your hips started to rock into each other and moaned deeply.  He was pounding into you with long deep strides that had you tugging at his hair over and over again.

“Fuck, I missed you so much Y/N.  Missed you every single second sweetheart.”

You moaned in response and pressed your lips back to his.  The kiss was needy, sloppy, and full of emotions.  The two of you were desperate to have the other as close as possible and you had a feeling this is what it was gonna be like for the next fews days.  You would welcome it gladly.

“You feel so good baby. Missed having you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips and it caused him to smirk.  He loved knowing the effect he could have on you.

“Missed this tight little pussy baby.  The way your body reacts to me when I fuck you like this.  Fu-fuck Y/N,” he moaned out.

He buries his face in your neck and as he feels himself getting closer to cumming, “Missed everything about you sweetheart.”

You whimpered as he spoke and could tell it wouldn’t be long before you came as well.  His hips were getting sloppy with each thrust and he moved his hand between you to rub your clit.  You moaned wantonly and your toes curled.

A few more deep thrusts from Bucky was all it took to send you over the edge.  Your walls fluttered around him as you moaned his name over and over.  The feeling of you squeezing his cock like a vice edged him on.  You felt his release inside of you and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to keep him close while you rode out your releases.  Soft kisses were placed along your neck, up your jaw, along your cheek, until he finally met your lips.

You hummed in satisfaction as you kissed him and couldn’t help the smile that formed before pulling, ghosting your lips over, “Welcome home, Bucky.”

You pulled back more to have a good look at his face.  You lifted your hand to gently caress his cheek and your heart melted when he leaned into your touch.  There was a cut above his eyebrow and what looked like a healing bruise on his cheek.  You knew missions were never easy for him and that they took a certain toll, but you’d be right there with him to help in any way he needed.

He placed a gentle kiss to your palm and smiled, “Think we can dry off and go get into bed.  I’m exhausted.”

You nodded and placed a kiss to his nose, “Of course baby.”

As the two of you got ready for bed you noticed more bruises and cuts along his skin but decided not to say anything, they would be gone in a day or two anyways.  You slipped on one of Bucky's old shirts and pulled back the covers of the bed.

“Come here,” you smiled and patted his side of the bed.

He smiled and flipped off the light before crawling up next to you, laying his head against your chest.  You wrapped your arms around him and ran your fingers along his back soothingly.  This was always one of his favorite things to do after getting home from missions.  Just being in your arms and listening to your heartbeat.

You smiled as the two of you laid there.  He was home.  He was in your arms and you were in his.

fin.

[iguessilovebakugou]

Kill the Lights and Kiss My Eyes ||  Domestic!Bakugou x Wife!Reader [ +18 ]

I’ll be honest, I’m still so confused what HOH!* is, but...fuck, I know what domestic smut is.  I guess it’s finally time I take the fucking plunge, baby. 

Congrats Anon - this is my first smut drabble. I hope you're happy.

CW:  NSFW, Oral, Cunnilingus, Rough Kinks:  Lip biting, body worship, powerplays, Bakugou on his knees, Rougher Sex Word Count: 2.8K Pairings:  Pro!Bakugou x F!Reader

“So moving forward, I really think we should start having the clients be aware of the changes before they even get to that portion of the contract.”

“I agree.  I think that way, we’ll have ample time to inform them of the changes to how we handle their business.”

“Nng, Katsuki what the fuck?”

“Do you think we should create a contract specifically for this change?  I think that might be best, that way they can’t say they never heard about it.”

“P-Please, I...I’m in a-”

“That’s probably a good idea.  Mrs. Bakugou - what do you think?  Is that something you could do?”

He had been a terror the second he got home...and he had only been home for all of 2 minutes.  

He had been gone on some sort of mission for an entire month.  The first week was fine, the second wasn’t so bad.  The third?  The third was torture.  He would never say it, never admit it out loud, but he missed you.  It was subtle ways - to mask the fact that you were all he could think about those past two days.  Letting you know what time he would be arriving, complaining the whole ordeal was taking to long, and in the moments where he could - calling you and just letting the silence hang around you.  Getting as close to you as he humanly possibly could.

The moment you heard that door open, you knew Katsuki would be...unruly, but this was...okay, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.  

“I think her connection went down again.”

It happened a lot actually.

His nails drug down the skin of your thighs, leaving bright and angry pink marks until they his hands gripped your pelvis.  With a yelp, you were tugged further down into your office chair - which was already pretty damp with his affections.  You were left a groveling, mewling mess as he continued his attack.  The knew position gave him ample room to lavish your clit with more attention, running the tip of his tongue over and around it in circles before diving back inside you.  You tried to get a word out edge wise, but the moment his tongue slid against your walls, you were done. 

“Fuck...fuck, babe.”  A shiver shot up your spine as his tongue pushed further inside you.  It reached as far as it could go, lapping at the very core of you.  Each movement drew out the most desperate of cries.  He had only just begun and already you were quickly dissolving into a pile of rather pathetic whimpers as you curled around him.  "Please, I...I’m...”

“Mrs. Bakugou, can you hear us?”

If you didn’t respond, they would grow suspicious.  You could get in trouble, you would have to try and explain why your connection only every had a problem on the days your husband got home.  You reached, desperately for the spacebar on your desktop, trying to let them know you were in fact still there.  

But Katsuki’s hand shot out, quickly abandoning your thigh and snatching your wrist.  He didn’t pull away from you, refusing to slide his tongue out from inside you.  You looked down at him, through lidded eyes.  Another moan, fingers gripping the arms of your work chair when you felt the growl in his throat, felt the words he was trying to say against your lips.  They sent shockwaves up to the top of your skull and curling your toes.  You looked down at him through lidded eyes, desperate for some semblance of reprieve.

Don’t answer it.

“...ah.”

Fuck Katsuki Bakugou.  Fuck the fact he knew just how to touch you, to melt your will just enough to mold you into whatever shape he desired.  If he wanted to touch you, wanted to drive you over the edge at this very moment, who were you to deny him that?  Without another moment’s hesitation, you reached over your chair and grabbed the cord connecting your computer to the outlet.  With a grunt, you yanked, tugging the plug out of the wall and sending it scattering to the wooden floor with a Thud!

The voices from your meeting stopped and the screen behind you went dark.  The only thing keeping your office lit was the sun, which was already starting to nestle behind the trees of your backyard.  Katsuki paused, only a moment to watch what you were doing.  His expression, while cautious, seemed...surprised.  His eyes glowed in the light, his panting now more pronounced that the voices of your superiors weren’t droning on above it.  

You swallowed, harshly.  Your mouth was dry and your tongue felt like cotton.  It was still hard to breathe, still hard to think - no hope for any sort of long winded sentences.  But he had stopped, watching you now, and waiting - for you.  He had been so terribly awful, but you could see the patience nestled in his face.  He wasn’t going to make a move until you spoke.  

Your voice was low, deep in your chest as your fingers found their way into his wild, blond hair.

“If you’re gonna fuck me - then fuck me. ”

It wasn’t a just an invitation - it was something that he loved almost as much as you:  a challenge.  His eyes turned more wild and with another guttural noise, his lips curled up into a smile.  

“You’re gonna regret asking.”

If you had any doubt left in your mind that he was telling the truth, it was swiftly quelled.  Katsuki shut his eyes and pushed back against you.  Your chair - propelled by the sheer force of him - went crashing back against the wall.  The action yanked a gasp from you as his tongue was forced further inside you, reaching a new depth you hadn’t expected.  And then it was gone.  Still, his mouth refused to leave you, his lips now wrapped around your clit.  You felt empty, only for a moment - until two of his calloused fingers slide in deep and curled, rubbing your warmth quick and tight.  

You cried out, wrapping your legs around his shoulders to draw him closer.  To keep him right where the two of you wanted him to be.  No longer inhibited by some meetings about contracts that didn’t matter, you let your cries be heard.  You threw your head back against the window, resting it there while and moaned to your hearts content.  Your neighbors would hear surely, but let them.  It shouldn’t be a secret that your husband knew how to unravel you, that the man you loved had memorized every tiny spot that turned you into a puddle at his touch. 

Katsuki’s eyes never left your face.  You could feel him watching you.  And when his fingers curled up further, tugging at your core - fireworks erupted.  It wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, not just yet, but it was enough to draw your back up straight.  Your fingers tightened around his hair, your legs wrapped tighter around him.  “Keep...that...again...please.”

You could feel him chuckle against you.  The whine came from you, even before he drew his fingers back.  His tongue was drawn over the top of you.  In another breath, his lips wrapped around your clit.  And he started there again.

In moments like this, Katsuki never played fair.  You were certain half of what he did was to torture you, while the other half was because he liked watching you squirm and wiggle under his touch.  He would never say it out loud but you knew he adored seeing you like this, knowing full well no one else in the world got to see you such a begging, needy mess.  It was his little secret to keep.  And he was so very good at keeping secrets.

He deserved to be rewarded for it.

He didn’t expect you to reach out.  He didn’t expect your fingers to trail under his jaw bone, to pull him up and away from you.  For a moment, he snarled, not wanting to budge from his position.  But then he felt the urgency and, albeit begrudgingly, he lifted his head.  His eyebrow was cocked, his eyes narrowed and his glistening lips curled into a sneer.  “What?”

You gripped him by the fabric of his shirt, tugging forward and up to meet you.  The steadfast resolution to bring you to climax quickly faded as you pressed your lips to his.  A chaste kiss at first, soft and sweet.  One more, drawing him into you...

Your teeth found his bottom lip, gripping it and tugging it back, nipping hard enough to break the skin and draw a drop of blood against your tongue.  You smirked at the sharp intake of his breath, the way his body tensed at the action.  For as much as he knew how to unravel you, you equally knew the little notions that could ruin him.  The right places to touch him to make his knees buckle, to make him chase you for more.  And - like clockwork - the moment your fingers slid down his abdomen to run over the rise of him, Katsuki’s entire being shivered, his body leaned into your touch.  

You had been with him long enough to know when the façade was crumbling to the ground.  You could feel him twitch under you touch, feel the pulse of his desire.  His hands against your thighs gripped you just a bit tighter, his skin grew a bit hotter, his kiss was just a bit deeper.  

The groan you had elicited from Katsuki’s chest was intoxicating.  You could feel the rumble underneath your skin, crawling up your veins and fogging your thoughts.  The existence of you was his drug, just as he was to you. 

You took advantage of his parted lips, sliding your tongue against his.  He reciprocated in his own way, immediately fighting for dominance.  The chair slammed back against the wall, but this time you were prepared and so was he.  You slipped effortlessly out of your chair and into his lap.  His hands, calloused and rough, gripped your ass to pull you tight against him.  He grinded up against you in abandon, grunting softly against your lips.  His hands on your ass squeezed, making sure to hold you taut against him as he desperately rutted against you.  

The waiting was turning into madness - and judging by how quickly his hand reached for the hem of his pants - he readily agreed.  It was difficult for him, fumbling with the buckle and edging the fabric down over his hips.  You almost laughed, and would have if his mouth hadn’t captured yours before anything more than a gasp could escape.  

And then you felt it: the head of him, dripping with want, press against your entrance.  One final time, you felt his eyes on you.  Behind his grunting and growling, behind his shaking fingers, he was asking.  Making sure this was okay.  If you were alright with this.  

In response, you pressed down against him.  “Please,” You begged, just a whisper in his ear.  You felt him quake beneath you.  “Fuck me, Katsuki.”

He drove up into you and the force of his weight inside of you - although familiar - always drew a cry.  Katsuki paused, only for a moment, each breath he took shaking.  In that moment, there was nothing but the weight of him inside you - every glorious inch of him.  The world was empty - save for the two of you in that office.  You opened your eyes, taking him in.  The wild blonde hair, the rough skin dotted with sweat, the way his shoulders rose and fell as he tried to contain himself.  As he tried to keep himself steady and not rut into you like an animal.

He wanted to make sure this lasted as long as possible.  There was no telling when he would be dragged away from you again. 

Your fingers ran through his hair, gently holding it to tug his face out from where it was buried in the nape of your neck.  Gently, you peppered kisses over his face - across his forehead, over his eyes, on the tip of his nose.  There was a moment his hips bucked, to try and reestablish who was in control...but it faltered quickly.  He soaked in every ounce of affection, relished every gentle touch you bestowed upon him. 

His voice, so quiet and ragged when he finally spoke, was not a surprise.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

You huffed, your lips against his temple, dragging against his skin.  “Then ruin me.”

He was up in a flash.  A moment later, your back was against the desk as his mouth resumed its assault on yours.  It was smart - seeing as you cried out in absolute ecstasy when he began to pound into you.  

As promised - Katsuki was most certainly trying to ruin you.  Your hands scrambled, your fingers wrapped around his arms, gripping him as he began to pound into you.  There was no hesitation - each thrust was deliberate, their soul purpose to drag each and every lewd noise from you that they could.  And they did.  While he refused to pull his mouth from yours, that didn’t stop you from moaning, gasping and mewling every time his cock buried itself inside you.

The sound of his hips hitting your ass with such force was almost enough to drown out the sound of the desk skirting across the floor.  You paid no mind as the pictures lining it’s edge went clattering to the floor and shattering upon impact.  You paid no mind as your phone - buzzing away on the other side - sliding off the desk as well.  You tried to keep your mind straight, to try and stay grounded.  But you couldn’t - Katsuki was too much.

His thrusts grew faster, less timed, erratic as he drew closer and closer to his breaking point.  You finally opened your eyes, looking up to see him staring down at you.  The smirk on his face was a perfect blend of frustrating and heart pounding.  You greeted it with your own smile.  “F-...fuck, babe...”

“Beg for it.”

You grunted when his hands joined in, slamming you down against his thrusts.  You gritted your teeth, swearing again.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” You gasped when he did it again...and again...and again.  

“Beg. For. It.”

Each word was accentuated with a thrust.  Each thrust was accentuated with a cry of pleasure.  God he knew he was going to get his way.  He knew that no matter what, you wanted the same thing as he did.  He was just going to torture you until he heard you admit it out loud.  

Just for him.  Only for him.

“I...I want you to...Fuck, Katsuki!”

“What do you- ah...”  His hips refused to slow as he let out a grunt.  He lowered his body down, pressing his chest against yours and trapping you between him and the desk.  His lips found their way to your ear, his voice low - barely above a growl.  “What do you want me to do?”

He knew what you wanted him to do.  “I...I want you to...”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, your face burying itself against his shoulder.  Your mind was staring to go blank as you dissolved into a mess of curses and moans.  But he wasn’t going to stop until you answered him.

“Cum...I want you to...cum...”  

“Where?”

“Fucking damn it, Katsuki!”

“Where?”

The heat inside you was unbearable now.  The pleasure was forcing all logical thought out the window.

“I...just...”

You weren’t going to last much longer at this rate.

“please...”

And judging by the absolute bliss in his eye, he wasn’t going to hold out much longer either.  

“I-Inside!  Cum inside me!!”

You allowed the pleasure to crash over you - the pent up frustration from Katsuki being gone for so long, the undeniable desire for him to touch you, to fuck you, to love you like only he could.  With a final cry of his name and the arch of your back, it all went white.  

You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he rode you through it.  You’re still gasping for breath, the fog he lost you in starting to clear, when you realize his teeth are against you neck, muffling the .  You can feel him erupting inside of you, grunting as he fills you.  

The two of you are panting, sweating messes; your office is in an even worse state.  You’re a tangled mess of limbs, of gentle touches and dragging nails and...

“Fuck...”  He breathes, letting out another breath.  He doesn’t speak again until he’s lifted you up off the desk, weakly lowering the both of you down onto the floor.  You kiss him once more before he slips out of you, which he happily reciprocates.  He pulls back, looking down at you, his crimson eyes flashing.

“I fucking missed you.”

So...first smut....I hope you liked it - cause like...fuck bro...

I drank tea and burned through 3 different candles trying to write this and I’m still not like...super okay with it.

Send me more smut asks - I need to get used to writing it. 

[cafeacademia]

Snowdrops

George Weasley x Reader (SMUT)

Summary: Being snowed in isn’t all bad when it’s your best friend that you’re stuck indoors with, that is until you unintentionally let your feelings slip, which leads to something more than you expected with George.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, kissing, gentle sex, sweet and charming George (yes that’s a warning)

Word count: Approx 2600

Masterlist

A/N: Hi my loves! I honestly kind of struggled with this one, I really loved writing this, but bridging the gap between the fluff to the smut was very difficult to navigate for some reason. Anyway, I listened to a romantic classical playlist and somehow it fixed it? Enjoy some Georgie smut 💕

Also apologies for some of the mistakes, I think I missed a few while editing!

Snow came down in a heavy drift and what had been a visible pathway and fence at the end of the garden was now barely visible with only the slightest hint of a fence and trees in the distance through the thick white flurry of snow.

The blizzard had already set in for the night hours ago and it didn’t look as if it was going to stop any time soon. You were glad too for the healthy pile of firewood you had collected and for the copious amounts of blankets Molly Weasley had made and given to you throughout the years.

You sighed, idly circling the spoon around in your mug of hot chocolate. You were perched on the front windowsill, peering out through the wobbly, single paned glass windows and you shivered as a particularly icy draft swept through your home.

George had only come over for what was meant to be a quick visit, he wasn’t supposed to stay too long, only for lunch and maybe for mid afternoon tea and then he was meant to go back home. But the snow had come down, seemingly out of nowhere and the winds picked up, whistling through every little crack and sending heavy shivers through you both. But you were thankful at least, that it was George Weasley that you were snowed in with for the night and not alone or with someone you did not do well around for long periods of time.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched as George slept on the sofa, curled up in front of the fire with a thick blanket draped over him, though in his sleep, he had pushed part of it off. Taking the last sip of your hot drink and placing your mug down before you stood and made your way over towards him, reaching out to gently pull the blanket back over him.

You supposed George had been right when he said it would be just like those nights together at the Burrow or when you’d sneak off to spend the night with the twins at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t the same as those times. The truth was, the two of you had never spent a night alone together like this before and as much as you adored his attention, George had the wonderful ability to make you feel hundreds of butterflies fluttering through you just by smiling at you and you were sure that he didn’t even know. He could just say your name in that sweet tone he reserves just for you and your heart melts. And Merlin help you if he calls you sweetheart or princess as he sometimes does.

Was he even aware of what he did to you? You weren’t sure.

It was rare to be able to see George up this close, to see him so peaceful. And of course, you’d had moments with him, some of the best that you’d never forget, but you wondered if you’d ever pluck up the courage to tell him exactly how you felt.

You had been friends with the twins almost from the moment you had met them both in your first year at Hogwarts. A lot had changed since then, you supposed, but one thing that hadn’t was your crush on the quieter twin.

You had met both Fred and George on the Hogwarts Express before your first year had even officially started at school and you had quite literally bumped straight into Fred or George, though to this day you weren’t entirely sure who you had bumped into, because you had been far too flustered and shy to pay full attention and every time you asked the twins, they switched their answer.

You just knew that George had been the one to calmly help you back up and ask if you were alright and if you wanted to sit with them.

How was someone supposed to tell their best friend they were in love with them? Other people around you made it seem so easy, but you had seen enough muggle tv shows and films to know that it doesn’t always work out the way you hope it does and you had a worry that sat firmly in the back of your mind, reminding you nearly every time you wanted to admit it, that it could ruin everything.

If only you could go back and tell your past self that the little school girl crush you began to develop on George that day would turn into something much more meaningful as the years went by.

And by your third year at Hogwarts, you were as thick as thieves with the twins. They were your closest friends and it was very uncommon to see you at a distance from them both. You had always stuck together, especially you and George.

Fred had always said it was because George liked that you were easy to spend time with, it helped being shy you supposed.

But you wondered, you always had, if there wasn’t another reason there too.

You sighed as you reached up, gently brushing his hair out of his face as he lay against the spare pillow you had given him. You’d expect, after all of those years that it might be easier now to admit your feelings. But it wasn’t and you wondered if it ever would be.

There had been so many moments when you had almost told him, that ultimately led to you redirecting the conversation and continuing to hide the feelings you had kept well guarded for years.

Arranging a comfortable bed of cushions to lay on in front of the warmth of the fire, you pulled a blanket around you. But before you settled down to get some sleep, you reached over and gently tucked some of his hair behind his ear so that it was out of his face.

It happened one Christmas at the Burrow, when you and George spent a good few hours up in a little room at the very top of the house, dancing and messing around and joking with each other. You had almost kissed too, had it not been from Percy coming to tell you that dinner was ready.

It happened before the Yule Ball when you had intended to ask him, but George let slip before you could say anything that he was going with Alicia Spinnet.

And it happened once more in the room of requirement when mistletoe had blossomed above you both.

But it never ended up happening because at that exact moment, Fred and Neville had practically burst into the room together.

“I love you, George.” You said it, barely above a whisper. “I wish I could tell you that.” You sighed, pulling away from him before you curled up on your bed of cushions and attempted to get to sleep.

A moment of silence passed as you listened to the gentle pop of the wood in the low fire.

“I love you too.” George finally broke the silence.

“What?” It was whisper as you turned over to face him, the Weasley twin looking down at you from the sofa with a rather smug smile on his lips, eyes dreamy and half lidded. “I love you too.” He repeated. “That is what you said, wasn’t it? That you love me?” George asked, though you both knew that he full well knew the answer to that question.

With your lips parted, a look of embarrassment and shock crossed your features, worrying George as he carefully slid off the sofa, landing not-so-gracefully on the cushions below him.

“How long?” He asked softly as he got comfortable, reaching up to gently caress your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Because I can tell you exactly when I fell for you, sweetheart.” He told you.

“You feel the same?” You asked, voice cracking a little mid sentence as it slowly sank in. You had just unintentionally told your best friend that you were in love with him and now you were stunned, almost to silence by his confession.

George gave you a sweet smile, one that held sincerity, the kind that told you every angle of truth in his words without him having to say a single one.

“Darling, of course. I always loved you, but I think I started to realise I was really in love with you on that first Christmas that you spent at the Burrow.” George explained, his eyes looking off into the fire as he went deep into thought, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Christmas seems to always make me fall more and more for you though, funny that.” He smirked.

“Yes, funny that.” You mumbled, trailing off as you began to think about that first Christmas. The Christmas when you had almost shared your first kiss with George at the top of the Burrow. And you realised that nearly every year, when the snow came and the festivities seemed to be the only thing that everyone was thinking about, you did always seem to fall a little harder for George.

Even if Christmas had already passed, there was nearly always a moment in the wintery bliss, one that would make your heart melt and ache for him and yet it never seemed to blossom into anything.

“But,” George said, smiling as he turned towards you and propped himself up on his elbow so that he was looking down at you. “I can still kiss you even if there is no mistletoe.” He gave you a lopsided grin, effortless charm and you found yourself a giggly mess as he leaned in, gently brushing his thumb against your cheek, lips softly grazing yours and he paused as your light touch trailed up his arm, resting your fingers on his shoulder before he closed the gap.

But perhaps, like the beautiful Snowdrops that blossomed through the mounds of snow that covered the front lawn of the Burrow at this time of year, perhaps you were both ready to let it bloom into something more.

“It was the same Christmas that I fell for you too,” You finally spoke. “When we spent those hours messing about and dancing and talking until the sun went down. And the Christmas after that when we practiced dancing for the ball together.” You told him, George grinning brightly as he leaned back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

“And that time under the mistletoe.” George added. “It’s a shame we never got to, you know-.” You trailed off, shyness taking over for a moment.

“I would’ve if Fred hadn’t come in.” George sighed, hoping that at the very least it would tell you that he was disappointed too.

George kissed you, his lips soft and warm against yours, moving slowly with you as he cradled you in his hands. It was more than you had ever imagined and the love that had lingered for so long deep in your heart became a bright flame, one that made your heart flutter, the warmth of your love for George finally blooming, filling you with a beautiful sense of wonder.

You moved against him, your lips parting only to meet his again within a second. It was breathtaking as he leaned over you, pouring every emotion, every unsaid feeling into the kiss. George kissed you breathless, until you were fully entranced by him, almost dazed by the pure, overwhelming love you felt for him.

Pulling away, just enough to see you, eyes deep with want, lips parted and glistening from your kiss. He wanted nothing more than you kiss you again, he wanted to kiss you all night and do anything you let him.

You were tentative with your touch as you undressed each other, but as George pulled you further into the loving haze the two of you had created, you became a little more brave. While shy to be bare in front of him, part of you craved it, you wanted to see how he looked at you, the way his eyes hooded slightly in lust as he looked you over.

“Please Georgie, I need you.” You whispered it before you even knew what you’d said, and while you were shy about the words that had passed your lips, they were true. You did need him, you desperately wanted him to make you his and the smirk that rested on his lips was enough to tell you that he wanted the same.

“I’ve got you, princess.” George spoke deeply, his warm breath brushing against you softly as he leaned down, pressing gently kisses to your neck.

“George,” His name passed your lips in a soft moan as he took you and while the snow came down and the wind blew against the side of the house, the fire crackling beside you both, all you could sense was him. George’s weight above you was comforting, yet intense as he thrust into you so deep, so gentle but with such a desperate need that you couldn’t help the breathy whine that escaped you. “That’s it sweetheart.” He groaned softly against you.

“I love you.” It came out as a soft sigh and he spoke the words as if they were too delicate to be said any other way. “I love you too.” Your voice airy and light, trailing off as he rocked into you, his hips flush against you for a moment as he reached deep.

You were gorgeous in the light of the fire, your features practically glowed in the gentle warmth of the hearth and George couldn’t help but explore your body, fingers trailing over your chest, thumbs gently teasing your nipples and you arched your back into him, lips parted with pure pleasure.

George could get used to this, he could get used to the way you looked when he brought you closer and closer to your release, the way you whined his name out and how perfectly you reacted to his touch with your lips parted and eyes deep with passion, they way you leaned into him, moved against him so perfectly like you were supposed to be together.

George brought you both closer, a loving, warm haze capturing you both as you looked into his eyes, sharing with him the emotions that played so beautifully in your expressions. Your fingers deep in his ginger hair, tugging gently as he leaned in, pressing kisses down your jaw, tipping your head back as his lips gently trailed down your neck, leaving messy, open mouthed kisses as you gasped, reaching your climax, the heavy wave of your release rolling through you and taking George with you as the fluttering of your walls around him brought him to his own bliss too.

“I love you, sweetheart.” George whispered to you as he looked down at you, taking in your blissed out features, the way you looked beneath him, beautiful and perfect in every way to George Weasley.

“Always remember that, darling.” He spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peace between you as he carefully lowered himself down onto the cushions beside you.

Turning to lean against him you rest your head on his shoulder as George pulled a blanket from the sofa and tucked it around you both.

“I love you too, Georgie.” You mumbled sleepily against him.

He hugged you to his side, embracing you in his loving warmth as the blizzard continued and the wind blew hard against the house.

But it was a perfect winter’s night and your love had finally been able to bloom, just like Snowdrops.

Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7 ​​@paintballkid711 ​​ @thesewaywardskies ​​ @coldlilheart​​ @victorialynn7​​ @pandaxnienke​​ @megantje123​​ @loving-life-my-way​​ @chaotic-fae-queen​​ @theweasleyslut​​​

[imaginativeamateur]

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] Burnt Eggs

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: HELLO! This is my debut:)) Enjoy!

In the breezing morning, without any tasks waiting, you felt extra relaxed as you strolled through the empty streets, heading to a nearby market. It was still early for the sun to shine its ray through the clouds, you unconsciously appreciated the surrounding dimed with little lingering lights from the lampposts.

Humming as you made your way through the food stalls at the market, hands gathering any ingredients that came across your eyes, making a mental note of what you were planning to make later. On your way back, you noticed people starting to set up tables and chairs in the morning cafes as the humid wind slightly passed against your cheeks. It was summer, the flowers were blooming wide between the green leaves, bright red, white, and yellow flowers weaved your way back home.

You opened the door to your apartment and dropped your grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Taking a few steps to the window sill, you slid the clear panel aside and allowed the natural sunlight to beam inside, dancing on the floor. Little specks of dust rose from the sudden disturbance, glimmering in the morning’s light. Pulling your hair up into a messy bun, you switched the fan with your toe and as you waltzed to the kitchen. You enjoyed the wind billowing into your apartment, a morning like this was rare, the office hours and piles of paper had been dragging you for a long, long time. You started by washing the fresh vegetables and set them on the counter to dry, moving on to cooking rice, beating eggs.

After one hour of diligence, you found yourself staring at a full table of food, not to mention the slightly burnt pans in the sink. This had always been your bad habit – making more than what you could probably eat. You planned to get Ino or Sakura if they wanted to come over and share the food with you, only to realize that they were both on their missions. Being extraordinary Shinobi they were, you sometimes could not help but compare yourself with the young girls. Even though you had only been friends with them for around a month or so, they saw you as a sister and helped you a lot in making this place feel like home. Naruto was off with Jiraiya already, Kurenai was definitely with Asuma and you did not want to third-wheel their date, it was the weekend after all. You could certainly refrigerate the food, only if you would be home that night, unfortunately, you needed to attend a random dinner with your committee.

Sighing, a thought came across your mind, maybe you could bring some over for Kakashi next door. You heard he was back from his mission yesterday night.

“But I don’t really… know him!” your inner-self doubted.

“What if he thinks I am poisoning him?” You asked yourself, rolling on the couch.

“This is ridiculous! It’s just a normal meal, it should be fine!”

“What will I reason if he asks?”

“Well, just say that you made some extra food, there’s no need to freak out!”

You hesitated slightly as you knocked on his door, once, twice, and waited for the silver-haired Ninja to open it. You had seen Kakashi before, conversed with him quite a few times, but you two were not especially close for you to do something this intimate. You had known his students, but not especially Kakashi himself. At least, you considered cooking for him to be intimate. At this point, you started to regret your decision when the door remained still, with no signs of movement. Just when you were about to turn your heels, Kakashi opened the door, his masked face poked out through the thin creak. You jolted at his sudden appearance, not knowing what to say. He stared at you, shifting his gaze to the container you are holding in your quivering fingers, the mood grew more awkward as none of you decided to speak.

You could not deny that you find the masked Ninja oddly attractive, especially the way he held his gaze half-lidded. Yet, you were determined to affirm yourself that it was only a mere thought of arousal and that it would go away soon.

After you made up your mind, you get up from the couch and scooped heaps of food into a plastic container, secured the lid, and dawdled your way over to Kakashi’s.

Finally, you parted your trembling lips, not able to sustain his intense stare, “I made some food earlier. Ugh, I guess we can eat to…, I meant I wanted to bring you some. Um, hope you will like it!”

You briefly shoved the container into his hands and bowed with nervousness before you sprinted back to your apartment. After two long strides, you stumbled upon your slippers and headed straight to the ground, bracing yourself for a rough landing. This was another reason why you would never belong to the Shinobi world: you would likely shove your face into the dirt before the opponent could even pull out a kunai. But when you were about to kiss the ground, a strong grip pulled you back to your feet. Kakashi fully appeared… in his tight, sleeveless tank and long pants, his half-lidded eye still cloudy from being wakened up early in the morning, you assumed. His tank’s material hugged perfectly to his lean built, outlining the defined muscles underneath. You could not help but be flustered at your thoughts and blamed the summer’s heat for them. You glanced down to his hand holding onto your arm and gulped, “Thank… thank you!”

Thoughts were going wild in your head. How did he know that you had not eaten yet? Did he stalk you or something? That was creepy! What did you get yourself into?

He released his hand, fixed his posture straight, and murmured under his mask, “Bring your breakfast over and join me!”

You look up, stuttered, you did not hear it wrong, did you? “I’m fine, I… already ate, I’ll take my leave now!”

The silver-haired Ninja tilted his head to one side, “What do you get by lying to me, Y/N?”

What happened to Kakashi? What were you supposed to do?  Was he literally asking you to eat with him? What if he kidnapped you to some weird places? While questioning, you still could not deny the butterflies welling up in your stomach as you get back to your apartment, maybe it was not bad at all, to spend your breakfast with a mysterious yet attractive Ninja of Konoha.

Seeing the confusion written all over your face, his visible eye crinkled, “You had your curtains opened.”

You closed your eyes, wanting to escape this great embarrassment, “You have been watching me?” You, of course, did not want to use ‘stalking’, especially in this context, but still shuddered at the thought that he had been observing you for Kami knows how long.

Still giving you his eye smile, Kakashi dropped a bombshell, “Right when you burnt the eggs.”

You froze, asking yourself what you did to get into this situation. Looking at his smile made you want to dig yourself a hole and disappear right away. You raised your voice a bit, “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry if I -”

“Nah, I just went back to sleep. But whatever you have in here smells good,” he shrugged, eyeing you, “why are you still here? Go back and get your breakfast!”

You exhaled heavily and take your leave, “Okay, I will be back shortly.”

It took your eyes several minutes to adjust to the darkness inside his apartment. Kakashi was seated – actually perching would be a better word to describe his posture – on the edge of his sofa with his Icha Icha firmly in hand. You silently wondered how he could possibly read with such little light.

“So you’re not going to turn on the light,” you chirped, “at least open your curtain, Kakashi-san.”

You finally got his attention as he placed the book on the low table beside and went for the window, “Welcome to my apartment!” The radiating light now allowed you to fully capture his apartment in sight, simple, and a bit… plain if you were to say.

“I saw you beating eggs earlier,” he raised an eyebrow, “what did you make?”

Opening your containers, you both settled down on the sofa, sitting across from each other. You amusedly explained, “Just traditional dishes, healthy and delicious, I hope!”

You clapped your palms together before starting to dig into your food, you were starving and practically drooling at the smell of your own crafts. “Oh, I don’t have my chopsticks,” you looked up, smiling warily at the masked Ninja. He pointed to the kitchen and motioned you to go get a pair of chopsticks. You made your way into his kitchen, there was literally nothing present on the kitchen counter, except for a kettle in the corner, a small, single stove, and a sink with bowls neatly stacked on the drying rack.

“Kakashi-san, I don’t see the chopsticks!” you called out to the Ninja.

“Sixth row from the left, second last drawer from the bottom,” he elucidated in a neutral tone, “make sure you are pulling it out, not swinging it open.”

It would be an easy task locating the right one until you glanced down at his endless rows of drawers, all matching in design and color. Mumbling his direction, you traced your index across the rows and counted your way through, and stopped at the one that seemed to fit his description. You were just about to pull the drawer open, he added, “Be careful, you don’t want to open the wrong one!”

You flinched at his words and lifted yourself up, starting to count once again, this time, paying closer attention. “It must be some weird stuff that he stores in there, maybe deadly weapons” you whispered, “or Icha Icha, maybe. Why on Earth does he even store such things here?”

“Can you locate the chopsticks?” he rang from outside.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” you quickly pulled on a drawer after already making sure that it was the right one twice and sighed in relief to see chopsticks lying in a metal box. You grabbed a pair and hurried outside without forgetting to push the drawer back in its place.

When you plopped yourself onto the sofa, Kakashi brought his palms together and bent his upper body down to the empty container, “Thank you for the meal, it was delicious!”

“Wow, that was fast,” you acclaimed, the thought of seeing his bare face shattered into pieces, “is my cooking okay?”

“Not bad, it somehow reminds me of something familiar…” he drifted off.

Seeing the man in front did not one to further the topic, you began eating, feeling glad that the burnt eggs turned out edible. “Do you often cook?” you initiated.

“Not that frequently, but I know how to cook though,” he replied.

You nodded at his answer, eyes wandering around the apartment to fully take in the sight, this time more carefully. “Do you especially like a certain dish, Kakashi-san?” The questions slipped out before you actually noticed and smiled hesitantly. Too fast, you noted.

“I’ve grown attached to eating basically anything for survival,” he shrugged, “but I recently found Ichiraku’s quite good of a ramen shop.”

You saw his lips curved under the mask at the implicit mention of his student’s obsession with ramen. You had heard of Naruto before, and of course, Team 7, well, without Sasuke.

“How about you?” he suddenly asked.

“Oh,” you shifted and leaned back a little bit, “food is my guilty pleasure.”

“Hm,” Kakashi looked up in question.

“I like anything from curry to sushi, or any kind of soup and noodles,” you exclaimed in joy, delighted to talk about your love for the place’s varied cuisine, “Konoha is such a great place for gustatory satisfaction!”

“Glad that you like it here! How long have you been here for?”

“Not very long, probably three months?” you tilted your head to one side and tapped your chin.

“It must be difficult to adjust to the place at first.” He commented.

“It was, I grew up in a rural area and Konoha seemed to be a busy place when I first came,” you admitted, “but I was lucky to meet, well, Sakura-chan and eventually Naruto-kun and their fellow Shinobi friends.”

“Sakura mentioned you several times, how did you two meet though?” the silver-haired Ninja leaned back onto the couch.

“Not in a very optimistic circumstance, I suppose,” you inwardly spoke, “I got myself into some villagers’ heated argument and one of them threw a punch in my face when I was trying to pacify the situation.”

Kakashi’s eye sparked a light but he did not speak.

“I ended up in the hospital with a swollen cheek, slightly fractured bone, and Sakura eased my pain.” You unconsciously reached for your face and rubbed against your cheek, silently admiring Sakura’s skills as a young, successful Medic.

You two kept talking for a long time, Kakashi did not reveal his past too much, it was mainly you answering his random questions. You were quite surprised that you both shared many similarities, the same dislike for sweets and crowded places, the same love for dogs and silent strolls in the forest, to have the same background as orphans and self-reliant individuals. He even promised to bring you to their training session one day. Within that mere hour, you sparked a strong bond that you never knew would last for a long time, neither did Kakashi.

[viking-raider]

The Belle and the Bane - Chapter II

Summary: Living with the Bane is turbulent, at best. But, you do your best to weather the storm of his moods.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,916

Warnings: PG-13 - Fantasy!AU, Dark!AU, Bane!Henry, Dark!Henry, Belle!Reader, Healer!Reader, Curses, Language, Angst, Light Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Very Minor Character Death, Multiple Personalities(?), Possessive/Controlling Behavior

Inspiration: My warped version of Beauty and the Beast.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long! Muse was spazzing from this fic to that fic and this idea to that idea. You know how it goes! Forever and always, thank you to the amazing @wondersofdreaming​ for being my beta, brainstorm partner and encouraging me! Tell me what you think!

You woke that morning with the bright sunlight streaming into your room, as Damien threw the curtains over your windows open, letting the new day stream in, brightening the remaining darkness out of the corners of your room.

“Good morning, Ms.” He grinned at you, standing at the foot of your bed.

“Morning.” You yawned back, sitting up.

“I have breakfast ready for you.” He said, motioning to the table in the corner of your room, by one of the windows. “Also, I have some clothing coming in for you, later this morning. It's not your full wardrobe, but it's a start.” He smiled, sounding happy and chipper.

“Thank you, Damien.” You smiled at him, getting out of bed and pulled on your robe, sitting at the table and looking over your breakfast.

Nodding his head, Damien exited your room and traveled down to Henry's room, finding his master in a similar position you were, but instead of his room being bright with the morning sun, shining off the calm waves of the ocean. Henry's room was nearly pitch black, minus the raging fireplace and a few candles in large candelabras.

“Morning, Sir.” Damien said softly, nodding his head at Henry. “I hope you slept well.”

Henry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his tea. “As usual, Damien.” He sighed. “Other than that girl you went behind my back and allowed here.” He added, with a lifted brow.

“I simply thought that some companionship would do you some good, Henry.” Damien replied, daring to use his master's first name. “Other than myself.” He added, as Henry opened his mouth.

“What companionship can she give me, Damien?” Henry asked, setting his teacup down and rubbed at his tired face. “Other than physical.” He added with a huff.

“Perhaps you should try and find out.” He replied, making Henry's messy bed. “She loves to read! She's almost completely read 'Great Expectations' and she's only been here a day. I know how much you like to read.” He explained, smiling over at him, his eyes glittering.

“I haven't read a book, in a long time.” Henry countered, his blue eyes darkening at his servant.

“Maybe.” Damien grinned, unbothered. “She can read to you.”

“I don't need to be read too. I can read on my own.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I'm not some invalid.” He growled, his body tensing.

“Of course not. It was only a suggestion, she has a sweet voice, was all I meant.” Damien replied, softly. “Give her a week, Henry. If you don't find her presence wanting by then, I'll send her back home to her father.”

The muscles of Henry's jaw flexed as he contained his fluctuating emotions. “Fine.” He huffed, angrily, then winced at the loud sounding of the door bell. “Who could this possibly be!” He barked, looking at Damien.

“I had a bit of a wardrobe made up for her.” Damien replied, finishing Henry's bed. “She only came with what she was wearing, and I'm sure that wouldn't have met your meticulous standards.”

“Spending my money on her, Damien.”

“Would you rather her look a peasant, or be nude?” Damien countered, lifting a brow at Henry.

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his back on him and staring at the dancing flame of the candle on his table. Damien half smirked at Henry, and left his room, going down the stairs to the third ringing of the door bell, and pulled it open, greeting the visitors. There were two men, holding several boxes, swinging the door open wide, Damien allowed them to enter the castle and showed them up the stairs to your room. You stood as your door opened and Damien entered with the two men, directing them where to put the boxes, then shooed them out.

“Your new clothing.” He grinned at you, pulling open the boxes and removing several articles, laying them out on your bed. “I do hope you like them. I wasn't sure what colors you would like, so I tried to keep them as neutral as possible.” He explained, pulling out more and more things from the boxes.

You stood beside him as he laid them out, surprised by the expensive quality of the fabrics and their current fashion. They were all so beautiful, you had never seen anything like them. Looking them over, you picked out the outfit you wished to wear for the day, and Damien put the rest in the empty walk-in closet. He smiled as he watched you stand in the full length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at yourself from every side and playing with the flow of the fabric of the dress you wore.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, standing behind you with a smile.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, your cheeks warm.

Henry groaned, stepping out onto his balcony, needing a breath of fresh air, when he saw a shadow move in the neglected garden below. Frowning, he leaned forward on the oxidized railing of his balcony for a closer look. He saw the shadow again, before you rounded an overgrown hedge, your fingers lightly touching the leaves. He watched you as you explored the ruined garden maze he had played in as a child, with his brothers. Biting his lip, Henry turned and went back into his room, throwing open his bedroom door and storming down the stairs, to the back garden.

“Christ.” You gasped, running straight into Henry, like he was a brick wall. “You nearly scared the life out of me.” You panted.

Henry grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from him. “What are you doing out here?” He demanded, glaring down at you.

“Enjoying some fresh air and sunlight.” You replied, staring up at him, your heart pounding. “Is there an issue with that, like wandering around the house at night?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

His hands squeezed your arms, before letting go of you as you gasped, realizing he had been hurting you. “No.” He gulped, relaxing. “But, you do need to be careful, if you turn the wrong direction, you'll end up stepping off the cliff.”

“Why would you design a garden to do that?” You asked, frowning up at him.

“It wasn't.” Henry replied, looking over the cracked and overgrown path you stood on. “There was a very bad storm, several years ago, and part of the cliff gave way, taking the back portion of the garden and a gazebo with it.” He explained to you, brushing his wind blown curls out of his face, then turned away from you, disappearing around a corner.

Blinking a couple of times, you followed after him, turning two corners, before you found him again, standing several feet away from the edge. Henry smiled at you over his shoulder, shocking you with the transformation it gave him, both physically and emotionally, he felt less threatening and harsh. You moved to stand next to him, a rush of strong ocean wind blowing against you so much, you felt the, surprisingly, gentle touch of Henry's hand rest on your back, keeping you steady as you both stood there.

“Damien said you've almost finished reading the Great Expectations.” Henry said, after a long pause of silence.

“I have.” You nodded, biting the corner of your lip. “Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors.” You confessed to him.

“Mine as well.” Henry chuckled, looking down at you. “I've thoroughly enjoyed 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. I've read it numerous times.” He explained to you, looking out over the ocean. “But, it's been some time since I've read anything, but a financial or business report.”

“Why is that?” You asked, glancing up at him, a soft frown on your face.

“Because, life gets in the way.” He replied, his face hardening. “You should go back inside.” He said, moving his hand from the small of your back to your shoulder; turning you away from the cliff. “It's getting much too cold for you out here.”

“And you?” You replied, lifting a brow at him.

“I'll be fine.” Henry answered, in a short tone. “Go.” He barked, pointing back to the house.

Biting your lip, you nodded your head to him and wound your way back through the garden maze, finding your way back through the open veranda doors. You only whiled away most of the morning, before boredom took you, unaccustomed to just sitting around all day. So, you pulled on a coat and went downstairs, you could hear Henry and Damien's voices through the closed study door as you showed yourself out, going back down to the village to check on your father and see if any of the villagers needed you.

“Where have you gone?” Damien asked, appearing in your doorway as you removed your coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “I came to bring you your lunch, and you were gone.”

“I went down to the village.” You replied, turning to him. “To check on my father, and one of the young wives down there was in the middle of giving birth, so I helped her.” You explained to him, unapologetic for leaving the castle without notice, you weren't their prisoner, and refused to be treated as one.

“Mr. Cavill is quite unhappy about it.” Damien replied, pressing his lips together.

“I'm sure, Mr. Cavill can get over it.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “He is a grown man, is he not?”

Damien narrowed his eyes at you and took a deep breath. “Well, be it as it may. If you're to leave the castle, please inform me, or I'm bound to worry you've fallen off a cliff or something.”

“I will.” You told him, your voice tight. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That's a question I should be asking you.” He countered, a soft smirk tugging on his lip.

“No, I don't need anything from you, Damien.” You sighed, you really just wanted to soak in a hot tub of water, your back aching from bending over as you helped birth the young woman's babe into the world.

“There's nothing you can do for me, either.” He replied, nodding his head. “Yet.” He added, softly, turning and showing himself out of your room.

Sighing and rubbing at your face, you turned towards the bathroom door, stripping off your clothing as you went. You melted into the hot water, up to your neck, eyes falling shut as it slowly eased away your aches and pains, taking your worries and stress away with it.

“If I were to be stuck here for the rest of my life, the only thing I would get used to, is this glorious hot water.” You mumbled yourself, drifting off.

You were awoken in the middle of the night, shaken by your shoulders and the frantic calling of your name. You batted your hands at the ones holding and shaking you, whimpering as you were drawn out from your peaceful slumber.

“What?” You rasped, in a sleepy voice. “What!” You barked, jerking up in bed. “Damien, what in the world! You're acting as if the house is on fire.” You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face.

“It's not, is it?” You added, face snapping to your open bedroom door.

“No, no! The house is intact.” He assured you, no less frantic and antsy.

“Then, what is the rush?”

“It's Henry, he's terribly unwell, and you are a healer, are you not?” He asked in a jumble of words.

“I am.” You nodded, frowning and throwing back your blankets. “What is wrong with him?” You asked, getting out of bed and taking your robe as Damien held it out to you.

“I'm unsure, I went to check on him in his study, he always works very late.” He explained, leading the way down the hall. “He was quite pale, and I'm sure he's thrown up in the bin.”

Your frown deepened with every description Damien gave you of Henry's ailment, your brain shuffling through dozens of different possible illnesses based on them. When you and Damien finally reached the ground floor study Henry spent a great deal of his time in, you found him lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his pale and sweaty face. You knelt down on the rug beside him on the sofa, gently resting your hand on his elbow.

“Henry.” You whispered softly.

“What do you want?” Henry growled, but it sounded more like a pained whimper.

“I've asked her to look you over, Sir.” Damien replied, hovering from the other side of the couch, his face creased with concern and worry. “She's a healer down in the village.” He explained, chewing on his lip.

Henry huffed, but didn't remove his arm. You frowned up at Damien, then stood, going around the couch to whisper in his ear.

“Give me a moment with him.” You said and tilted your head towards the door.

Damien looked between Henry on the couch and the study door, but nodded his head and went out, quietly closing the door behind him. Rounding the couch again, you took up the fire poker and pushed the burning logs apart until they were nothing but glowing embers, then brought the burning candlestick on Henry's desk over to the small end table at Henry's feet on the couch, plunging the study into near darkness.

“You can take your arm away from your face now, Henry.” You whispered softly, kneeling back down beside him. “The light shouldn't bother your eyes so much.” You told him, tilting your head at him, having an idea of what was bothering him.

Henry slowly removed his arm from over his face, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light. His handsome face was quite pale, his eyes were red and damp, his curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. He carefully turned his head towards you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“How long have you had migraines?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him.

“Since I suffered that illness.” He replied, gulping thickly. “They're crippling.”

“I can see that.” You replied, glancing over at the waste bin by his desk, where he'd thrown up. “Come on.” You sighed, standing up. “Let's get you off to bed. You need to rest.”

“I have work to do.” Henry protested, slowly sitting up.

“It can wait, Mr. Cavill.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “If you don't rest, you'll end up throwing up more, and probably passing out. Neither is good for your business or your health.” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“So, up you go.”

Henry looked up at you, narrowing his eyes at you. Both of you stood there for a long moment, staring each other down, before Henry growled and stood up. Smirking, you moved around the couch, taking up the candlestick and opened his study door. You and Henry went up the stairs to his room, you paused, resting your free hand on his thick arm as he swayed outside his door for a moment. Henry squeezed his throbbing eyes shut, reaching out blindly to open his door.

You set the candlestick aside and guided him to bed, pulling back the blankets and made him sit down, before he fell. Frowning at him, then sighing, you bent down and pulled off his slippers, setting them aside. Henry watched you through half-lidded eyes as you fussed over him, helping him remove his shirt, then piled up his pillows, so he could rest back on them, and covered him with his blankets. Moving away from him, you went into his bathroom, soaking a washcloth in cold water and brought it back to him.

“Put this over your eyes, it'll help some of the discomfort.” You told him, holding the washcloth out to him.

“As you wish.” He smirked, his tone teasing as he pushed his head back and draped the cloth over his eyes with a moan.

“How is your stomach?” You asked him, watching him gulp thickly.

“Like a raging ocean.” He replied, licking his lips and fisting his blankets, then sat up suddenly, his face going pale as a ghost.

You reacted quickly, picking up the bin by his table and thrust it out to him, just in time for him to throw up, wrenching hard. Henry whimpered as the wrenching agitated his throbbing and pulsing skull. He looked so weak and harmless, like a small boy trapped in the body of a man. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you used the damp cloth to wipe at his sweaty face, the scent of vomit was something you had grown used to as a healer. Sighing, you set the now warm cloth on his nightstand, chewing on your bottom lip as you regarded him and thought about something that could relieve the pain of his migraine and the discomfort of his stomach.

“Do you have any willow trees nearby?” You asked, frowning at him, as a solution brewed in your mind.

“Of course, what kind of question is that?” Henry huffed, shaking his head at you, then instantly regretted it. “The whole county is known for them, there's three in the graveyard alone.” He told you, gripping the waste bin, as another wave of nausea hit him.

“Good.” You nodded, getting up. “I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Henry demanded, as you rushed out of his room.

“Is Henry all right?” Damien asked, he had been lingering in the hall.

“He's got an acute migraine.” You told him, rushing up to your room to pull on a shawl. “I need to retrieve some things to help lessen his pain and the discomfort of his stomach. But, I'll also need hot water and a tea set.” You told him, pulling on your shawl and grabbed the sharp letter opener on top of your dresser, before running downstairs and out the front door, into the darkness.

You knew where the Bane's family graveyard was, you had to pass the narrow path that led to it on your way up the castle. The air was bitterly cold and windy, pushing off the ocean and mixing with the late autumn night. The spooky shadows of the trees that lined the path to the graveyard were frightening, but you were far too focused to allow yourself to become scared and paranoid about them. It took some doing, in the dark of the quarter moon, but you found one of the willow trees, near an overgrown, dark stone mausoleum, the names of Marianne and Colin Cavill carved on the sealed doors. You removed the sharp letter opener from the inside pocket of your robe and started cutting into the bark of the willow tree, collecting enough to fill one of your robe pockets, then started searching around it roots, running your fingers through the leafy tops of small plants, until you found the second thing you were looking for, mint. You knew you could find it here, it was how the village of Mintwillow had gotten its name, after all.

Pockets full with what you needed, you raced back up to the castle and into Henry's room. Damien had gotten everything you asked for together. You dumped your pockets out on the table beside them and started breaking up the bark into smaller bits with the mint and dumped them into the boiling water of the teapot.

“What is all of that?” Damien asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Willow's bark and mint.” You replied, stirring the concoction. “Do you have any honey?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. “Willow's bark can be rather bitter, so the sweetness of the honey will help with that, as well as coat his throat, after all the throwing up.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, rushing back down to the kitchen for the honey pot.

“Thank you.” You smiled, pouring some of the tea into a cup, then adding a drizzle of honey into it.

“You can go, Damien.” Henry rasped, his voice now sore from throwing up and wrenching. “I'm sure she can care for me now.” He said, his eyes on you.

Damien looked between you both, then nodded his head, excusing himself. Satisfied with his tea, you carefully brought it to him.

“Sip it slowly.” You told him as he raised it to his lips, then chuckled. “It's not meant to taste good, just to help.”

“It better.” He huffed, taking another sip of it. “Or I'm going to be very angry.”

You smiled at him, unphased by his mood swings. “I've given this tea to many people over the years, and it's never failed me.” You assured him. “But, I should let you rest. Sleep is the third best thing for a migraine like this.” You told him, turning away.

Henry's hand shot out, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. “Stay.” He said softly, his tired and glassy eyes staring holes into you. “Just for a little while.” He whispered, so quietly, you weren't sure he had said anything.

“Perhaps, you could read to me? It helps me sleep.” He added, glancing at a book sitting on his nightstand.

You swallowed slowly, surprised by his request, as the heat of his hand wrapped around your wrist, pushed out the last of the cold that had settled into you, when you were outside. This was a side of him you hadn’t expected, and you weren’t sure how it made you feel; perhaps conflicted from when you experienced his normally callous mood. Licking your lips, you nodded your head at him and Henry felt relieved that you agreed to stay with him, it gave some deep part of him a great amount of comfort, so he slowly let your wrist go. You grabbed a chair from his table and brought it to the side of his bed, picking up his book and saw it was 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'.

Clearing your throat, you flipped the book open to its marker and started reading at the top of the page. Henry relaxed against his pillows, sipping the rest of the tea you had made him, before setting the empty cup aside and closed his eyes, focusing on the soft and easy rhythm of your voice as you read aloud to him.

Henry woke several long hours later, his head still throbbing, but not as badly as it had been for the last few days. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep from them, when he noticed you, book open in your lap, and sound asleep. You had also fallen asleep, while reading to him. Henry smirked and got out of bed, carefully setting the book in your lap aside, and gingerly lifted you into his arms, your head lulling gently against his shoulder as he carried you out of his room.

“Good mo-”

“Sshhh.” Henry shushed Damien, angrily, as he appeared on the stairs. “Don't wake her.” He growled, in an almost protective manner, then tenderly shushed you as you whimpered and shifted restlessly in his arms, hugging you closer to his chest.

“My apologies, sir.” Damien replied demurely, moving out of Henry's way and bowing his head, to hide the smirk on his face as Henry went by.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Henry carried you up to your own room, pushing the door open with his foot and delicately laid you down, your blankets still thrown back from when Damien woke you up to tend to him. He stood above you for a long moment, after covering you up, watching you snuggle and melt into the mattress and pillows, a faint and sweet smile on your lips. But, he quickly turned away as his heart started to pound and his chest hurt, like he'd been punched by a giant.

Leaving you to sleep in your room, Henry returned to his own and felt his head start to throb again.

You woke just before noon and found yourself back in your own bed, figuring Damien had brought you back to bed. Rising and stretching your stiff body from bending over Henry and sitting in a chair all night, you got out of bed and dressed, just as Damien came in, carrying a tray.

“Oh, you're awake!” He grinned, setting the tray on your table, lunch no doubt, since you had slept through breakfast.

“Yes.” You replied, stifling a yawn into your fist as you sat down at the table. “Thank you for bringing me back to my room.” You added, munching on a bit of your food.

“Oh, I didn't.” Damien replied, making your bed. “Henry did.” He explained, seeing your confused expression.

“Henry did?” You replied, slowly setting your teacup down.

“Yes, you fell asleep, while you tended to him and when he woke this morning, he found you sound asleep on a chair.” He explained, fluffing your pillows. “So, he carried you back up here, to bed.” He said it all, like it was the most normal and natural of things.

“Oh.” You gulped, picking your tea back up and taking a large gulp of it. “Is he any better?” You croaked, keeping your eyes on your food.

“He was quite well, until a few hours ago.” Damien frowned, collecting your dirty clothing. “Seems his headache has re-surged.”

“Oh no.” You cooed, frowning over at him, very concerned. “I should check on him at some point today.”

“It could do him some good.” He agreed with you.

After breakfast, you dressed and found Henry hunched over his desk in his study on the ground floor. Even standing out in the hall and peeking through the cracked open study door, you could see the pain Henry was clearly in. He rubbed at his temples at regular intervals as he frowned at the report in his hand, eyes narrowed at the black lettering. Frowning and pressing your lips together, you turned on your heels and went into the kitchen, where Damien had taken the herbs you used the night before to help Henry's migraine.

Finding and filling a kettle, you set it on the stove to boil, preparing the cup of mint and willow's bark, with a drizzle of honey and a splash of milk. Smiling, you set the steaming cup onto a small plate, carefully carrying it down the hall, and into Henry's study.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked, sounding annoyed, as he looked up from the report he had been staring at for nearly an hour.

“Damien said, your migraine returned.” You replied, carefully setting the cup down on a clean corner of his desk. “So, I brewed you another cup to help.” You told him, smiling at him sweetly.

Henry set down his neglected report and stared at the steaming cup of tea, the muscles of his jaw flexing as his mind roiled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, before huffing and picking his report back up. “You can leave.” He hissed, not looking back at you, with a cold aura rolling off of him.

“Um..” You floundered, then let out a soft sigh and excused yourself from his study.

You made it halfway up the staircase to your room before a wave of tears hit you, no one had been so rude and cold to you as Henry was, and you had encountered some stubborn people in your practice. Taking a moment to get a hold of yourself, you continued upstairs to your room. But, it was an hour or two later that Damien appeared in your doorway with a note in his hand.

“This came from the village for you, Ms.” He said, holding it out to you.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking the note from him and breaking the seal. “Oh no.” You gasped, reading the note.

The note was in your father's own hand, but wrote about one of your patients who suffered from a chronic illness, telling you that he had turned for the worst and you needed to hasten down to the village before it was too late. In a flustered rush, you grabbed your cloak and the bag you kept your herbs in and rushed down to the front door, your heart pounding and mind racing, praying that you made it back to the village in time.

“Where are you going?” Henry's voice boomed, aided by the echo of the vast foyer.

“One of my patients in the village needs me.” You replied, startled and out of breath.

“No.” He snapped, shaking his head, rage burning in his blue eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“What!” You snapped, gobsmacked.

“You heard me.” Henry hissed at you, his body tense. “You aren't to leave this house, unless you have my say.” He told you, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “And you do not. So, go back to your room, this instant.”

You stared at Henry wide eyed, shocked and dumbfounded. How could he refuse to allow you to go down to the village to tend to one of your patients, one so critically ill. Surely, being someone that has lost loved ones to such a crippling illness would understand that need and haste of trying to cure someone with something so life altering. Who did he think he was? Your warden, keeping you in this dark and oppressing castle, cut off from those you loved, with only his hot and cold tempers and Damien the rest of your life.

“No.” You replied, your voice a mixture of stubborn defiance, shock and outlined in fear of what he would do with your disobedience. “He'll die.”

“Then, he can die and you'll have one less obligation.” Henry answered, his voice cold as ice. “Now, do as I told you.”

You gulped, watching him practically grow with his rage and impatience towards you, and your hand still resting on the handle of the front door, gripped it tighter. Henry saw the small action, like a wolf seeing the small twitch of a rabbit's body, readying itself to bolt from the reach of its mighty jaws. You had the door open by the time he took a step towards you and felt the brush of his fingers against the fabric of your cloak as you bolted out the door and into the bright light of the early afternoon sun.

Running several yards, and expecting Henry to catch you at any moment, you realized he wasn't and paused to look back towards the castle. You saw the outline of his tall frame standing just before the threshold of the doorway, unmoving to dash after you and drag you back inside. Henry just stood there, fuming with rage and shaking with something far more complex as he battled to go after you. But, after several long moments, he disappeared, the door slamming shut with an echo.

“Such a strange man.” You panted to yourself, before turning back down the path towards the village, wasting no more time to reach your patient.

“Sir?” Damien frowned, hearing the crash of the front door slamming closed from the other side of the house, and came running to make sure nothing nefarious had occurred.

“Damn that girl!” Henry roared, storming into his study.

“Has something happened to her?” Damien asked, alarmed for your welfare.

“Not yet.” Henry replied, angrily pacing the room. “She's left, after I explicitly told her not too.”

Damien's brow creased for a moment, then it dinged in his mind. “Her note, of course.” He nodded, smiling to himself.

“What note?” Henry growled, stopping his pacing to look at his servant.

“She received a note about twenty minutes ago, from her father.” He explained to his master. “One of her patients suffers from a chronic illness. Her mother cared for him before her death, and she's picked up the patients, in her wake.”

“You read the note?”

“I might have glanced at it.” He replied, smiling softly. “But, the rest of it, she told me herself.” He added, he had grown quite fond of you.

“Why didn't you tell me she received it?” Henry hissed, his lips pressed into an angry line.

“I didn't want to bother you.” Damien gulped, biting the corner of his own lip. “I know you've been very busy lately. Especially after one of the ships go-”

“I want any correspondents she gets, I don't care who they come from!” Henry barked at him. “I'll determine whether or not she'll receive them or not. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Damien nodded, nervously licking his lips.

“Clear this away.” Henry huffed, waving a hand at the tea cup still on his desk as he sat back down.

“Right away, sir.” He rushed over and picked the empty cup up.

“Close the door.” Henry called as Damien started to leave.

Nodding his head, Damien closed the door behind him and took the cup into the kitchen to be washed. With the door closed, Henry leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips to his temples. His migraine had gone away after drinking the last cup of tea you had made him, but now it started to come back, his anger with you disobeying him and leaving the house, and him not going after you, to bring you back.

“Why didn't I bring her back?” He growled at himself, pressing his fingers harder into his temples. “Why couldn't I go after her?” He panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing pain in his skull.

You sighed as you stepped out of a hut in the village, exhausted from the run to the village and the struggle to help your patient. A warm hand rested on your shoulder and you didn't need to see who it was, before you turned into the warm body it belonged to, enveloped by iron hardened arms that clasped you to an even warmer chest.

“You did your best, little lamb.” Your father's rough voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath warming the cove of your cold nipped ear. “You did your best.”

“Ma would have done better.” You mumbled into his tunic.

He smiled into your hair and brushed it out of your face, before cupping your cheeks in his calloused hands. “Your mother would have done all the same things, little lamb. She taught you well.” He assured you, before gently kissing your forehead. “I should walk back with you, it's getting too dark for you to walk alone.” He said, letting you go.

“I don't want to go back, papa.” You frowned, not willing to let him go. “Please, don't make me go back to him.” You begged, looking up into his eyes. “He's so cold and mean to me.”

“Has he tried to wrong you?” Your father frowned, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“No. Thankfully. But, all I do is sit in my room and read or stare out the window. The only person I have to talk to, other than myself, is his servant, Damien, who is a very sweet and attentive person, it's just..” You paused, your chin dropping to your chest as tears started to overwhelm you.

“It's lonely.” You sniffled.

“I know how you feel, my sweet.” He sighed, huddling you back up into his arms. “It's lonely for me as well. But, things will get better, he'll warm up to you, once you work your sweet charm on him.” He chuckled. “I've seen you melt the icy heart of so many, I doubt Mr. Cavill will be immune to it.”

“I don't know, Papa.” You sighed, fruitlessly dabbing at your tears. “He's not like anyone I have ever met before.”

Your father's roar of laughter echoed in the growing misty darkness. “The man is the richest in the county and among the elitist rich in the country, lamb. He's got airs and graces, self entitlement, ego and everything at his fingertips. He's spent his life with people at his beck and call, doing his bidding and obeying him.” He chuckled. “You've never dealt with a rich person before. But, you'll adapt, you are so much like your mother in that aspect. You are strong, independent, intelligent and like a red hot piece of steel coming out of the forge, capable of shaping and molding yourself to fit into any situation.”

“You just need to show him that.”

“So, you think I should go back to him and his dreary castle?” You frowned up at him, your stomach in knots.

“I do, lamb.” He nodded, but you could see he had knots in his own stomach. “If he ever does anything vile against you or your person, you come home, and he'll feel the strength of my hammer.” He told you, showing where you had inherited your stubbornness.

“All right, Papa.” You sighed, but straightened your stiff back. “I'll go back, for you.”

“Then, let's be off!” He said, taking your bag for you and accompanied you back through the village and up the road leading back to Cavill and his Castle of loneliness. “I'll write to you more regularly.” Your father said, as you both reached the turn on the road leading up to the house. “So, it will seem like I am with you more.” He promised, his voice slightly weak.

“I would love nothing more.” You replied, your own voice weak with tears and emotions, as you reached out and squeezed his hands.

Taking leave of your father, you made the solitary and anxious walk up to the castle, trying not to let the shadows from the trees and sudden animal noises spook you, keeping your eyes forward. Once you reached the front door you thought of knocking or ringing the bell, but knew if you did it would wake Henry and you weren't in the mood and didn't possess the strength for his cold wrath. So, you tried the handle and found it open, which in actuality, didn't surprise you. No one in their right or ill mind would try to rob the Bane, no matter how rich he might be.

You quietly closed the door behind you, before taking off your shoes, not wanting to make the old floorboards creak under their soles. Gingerly tiptoeing by Henry's study door, it was closed, but you weren't willing to risk him being inside and hearing you, before mounting the stairs, pausing with each small noise you or the house made. Only letting out a soft sigh of relief, you weren't aware you were holding, when you reached your floor, no one but you occupied the floor, with the Bane on another floor and Damien sleeping somewhere below stairs no doubt.

But, you lifted a brow at the stream of light coming from under your room door, but brushed it off.

“Maybe Damien made up my fireplace to keep my room warm, while I was away.” You said to yourself, it was something sweet and thoughtful Damien would do. “Has to be, what else would it be?” You sighed at your silly paranoia and went inside.

“So, you came back.”

You yelped, dropping your shoes and bag to the floor with a clatter, pressing your back to the now closed door and your hands to your pounding chest. “What are you doing in here?” You demanded, out of breath from your fright.

“Waiting for you.” Henry replied, leaning forward in the chair by the window, that you usually occupied to read during the days.

“In my room?” You asked, lifting your brows at him and trying to collect yourself, not wanting to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing you off-guard.

“It's only your room, because I allow it to be.”

“How kind of you.” You hissed, finally recovering yourself and relaxed. “I didn't think you were capable of it.”

An oddly sinister smirk tugged up one side of Henry's mouth. “I am capable of a good many things.” He replied, licking his lips and resting his elbows on his knees. “How was your little patient, anyway.” He asked, lifting a brow at you. “Did you cure him with your cute little leaves?”

“Don't mock me!” You snapped, hands tightening into fists.

“I'll take that as a no, then.” He smirked more at you, apparently pleased with himself.

You drew in a shaky breath and let it out, trembling with a built up amount of emotions, before suddenly snapping towards him, in a fit of rage. “You fucking bastard!” You growled, jaw clenched and hands raised.

Henry snapped to his feet, like a flash of lightning, grasping your raised wrists in his hands, instantly restraining you and pushed you up against the wall beside the window he had been sitting next to. “That is fowl language from such a sweet mouth.” He growled, looking into your angry eyes.

“Did your patient break your little heart?” He mocked you, venomously.

He didn't believe for a moment that you had actually gone down to the village for a real patient, that your father had only sent the note as a cryptic message for something entirely different. Like a lover or beloved, trying to plot something to get you away from him.

“What are you talking about!” You yelled, struggling against him, confused and frightened.

“Do you think I'm a fool!?” Henry bellowed back at you, painfully pinning your hands to the wall at either side of your head. “I know that note was a fucking lie! A feign to get away from here, probably to see some peasant lover.”

“What do you care?!” You huffed, even more confused and shocked at him and his outburst. “You'd pawn me off to anything that gave you the chance to do so! You didn't want me here to start with, I know that, the whole village, if not the county, knows that.” You taunted him, hotly.

“Yet, here you are acting like your my scorned lover!”

“Because you are mine.” Henry growled in a low tone. “My possession to do with as I please.”

“Ha!” You laughed in his face. “I am no such thing.” You huffed, shaking your head at him. “I don't belong to you. My only misfortune is being held prisoner here, with a monster as a jailer.”

You yelped as one of Henry's hands gripped your jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing your head back to look up at him. “You belong to me.” He hissed, his face so close to yours now that your noses brushed and his hot breath wafted over your face. “I paid for you. All that money your dear father owes me; for the goods he uses to sustain his profession, for the taxes on the land his forge and house rest on, and so much more.”

“He sold you to me, to have those debts paid for and cleared away.”

The dull nails of his fingers pressed into the smooth skin of your cheeks and you whimpered, pathetically, immobilized by one of his hands pinning your wrists above you, his other hand gripping your head, like a bear trap, and his body caging you in, preventing even the smallest of movements of your body.

Your rage was forgotten in that instance, seeing the true Bane, and fear paralyzed you.

“So, yes.” He grinned at you in a way that made your heart stop. “I am your jailer, and you are my prisoner, and if you ever leave this house again, you will feel my wrath. Do I make myself clear to you?”

“Yes.” You gulped in a breathy whimper, unable to move your head to nod.

“Very good.” Henry replied, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Now, that's settled.” He looked to the clock, then back at you. “It's almost two in the morning.” He moved to stand sideways, but still stood close to you.

“Go to bed.” He ordered you, his tone leaving no room to argue.

Licking your dry lips, you slowly moved away from him, to the edge of your bed and pulled down the blankets, while he approached the door. You gulped, your throat sore from where the heel of his palm had pressed as he held you. “My patient,” You dared to say, as he opened the door. “died.” You informed him, your face hardening against the hurt of losing a patient and the fear that gripped you as Henry turned around.

Henry regarded you with a tired, cold and indifferent face, but his blue eyes gave away to something deeper you couldn't place your finger on. “You no longer have any patients, real or otherwise. So, you should put your mind to other things.” He told you in an emotionless voice, then left.

“Other than you, you mean.” You said to the closed door of your bedroom.

You stood by the side of your bed for a long time, paranoid that Henry was just standing in the hallway listening in on you, which he did for several minutes, before going to his own room, before your turned and went into the bathroom, desperately needing to soak in a hot bath. You needed that delectable heat and steaming water to melt away every ounce of stress, fear and exhaustion that you had coursing through your sore body, and it did just that. You didn't get out of the tub until the water turned as cold as Henry was towards you and it was almost four in the morning. Then, and only then, did you put on a nightie and crawl into bed, using the dying light of the fire in the grate to read your current book and fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon and tree tops.

“Good morning, Ms.!” Damien's chipper voice rang out as he entered your room with breakfast.

You groaned and tossed the blankets over your head, you had only gotten four hours of sleep and weren't in the mood for how happy-go-lucky Damien sounded, especially after what had happened with Henry during the night.

“Oh, come on!” He teased you, setting the silver tray of food down on the table. “It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the wind is hardly blowing and the birds are singing!” He said, trying to infuse his energetic mood into you, coaxing you up and out of bed, as he threw the curtains open and opened the windows, letting in the fresh sea air.

“Not today, Damien.” You sighed, turning your face into the plush pillow with a groan.

“Didn't sleep so well?” He asked, tilting his head at you, as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“You can say that.” Your mumbled reply answered, staring at the thin seam of light at the edge of your blanket.

“All right, then why don't you stay in bed, until you feel ready to get up and meet the day.” He suggested to you, though the concern was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, Damien.” You replied, closing out that thin line of light, plunging yourself in the darkness you felt yourself being swallowed into.

Lingering for a moment longer, Damien quietly showed himself out of your room, silently closing your door after him. You laid in bed for a long time after he left, not moving and barely moving, before letting out a deep sigh and tossed the blankets off of your body with a huff.

“Damn that man.” You growled, staring up at the canopy of your bed. “Damn him to hell!” You shouted, your anger and despair culminating inside of you.

You didn't care if he could hear you, let him hear you and rot for it. You had done him no wrong, you had done nothing to him, other than the misfortune of your father giving you to him to pay a lifelong debt, before you were even born and your father owed his father, before his death.

“Why couldn't all of you died in this miserable house, that's never been a home.” You growled, beating your fists against the feather mattress. “Do this already dismal world a spot brighter for the rest of us.” You raged, jerking your body to sit up and threw your pillow against the door.

You sighed and rubbed at your face, trying to calm yourself, not wanting the Bane to reduce you to this mood and attitude, it was one thing for him to act like it and another for you to do it. Your parents raised you better and would be disappointed in your tantrum. Straightening your back and taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you got out of bed, pulling on your robe and tied it around your waist, before moving over the breakfast Damien had made for you, it was almost cold now, but you didn't mind; your stomach was rumbling like an angry tiger.

Finishing your breakfast, you glanced around your room and sighed, there was nothing to do. But, read, that was.

Getting up, you went into the attached library, since you had finished your last book, The Iliad by Homer. You froze half way into the room, there was a package sitting on the table that hadn't been there the day before. You glanced at the door that led out of the library and into the hallway, it was closed, but the cobwebs that usually covered it, were broken and disturbed.

“Damien.” You sighed, shaking your head, figuring the man was just trying to cheer you up.

Picking the wrapped package up, you touched the delicate, fancy, black and gold wrapping paper, feeling the heft of what was inside and wondered what in the world he had gotten you. It felt like a book, from what you could feel through the paper, and you didn't want to ruin such nice, and clearly expensive, paper. So, you carefully unwrapped it and setting the paper down on the table, it was indeed a book, a hardcover of deep brown leather and gold stamping decoration on both covers and the spine.

Turning it over, you blinked at the cover.

“The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.” You read off the front cover, before opening it, a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on it slipped out and fell to the floor, making you bend down to pick it up.

Setting the book down, you unfolded the note, then frowned and shook your head at it, it was written on Cavill Industries stationary. But, the words surprised and shocked you even more.

My actions last night were unspeakable, I do not wish to keep you a prisoner in a place that has become my own penitentiary, nor make you feel fear, while you stay within these walls.

I have my reasons, that are not your fault and beyond your understanding. Take my apology with this gift, I have read it myself, and would love to know what you think of it.

Perhaps over dinner, one night.

If you would be so nicely inclined to have it, with me. - Henry

Your mouth was agape by the time you finished reading his note, having to read it twice over to ensure you weren't misreading it. You were so taken aback and dumbstruck by it, how could this be the same man that had pinned you, bodily, to a wall the night before, telling you of the wrath you would endure if you considered leaving the castle without his permission.

Was it some sick and amusing joke of his?

Was he trying to lull you into some sort of false confidence?

Was he trying to brainwash you into falling into being his good little pet?

Or was Henry being genuine and trying to make amends for his inexcusable and ungentlemanly behavior towards you?

It was all too confusing and made your head throb.

So, you set the note down on the table and picked up the book, rubbing your palm over the orate cover, before moving over to the window seat, settling on its plush cushion, the filtered gray light coming from the cloudy sky came through the windowpane, illuminated the pages just enough for you to read by, and you quickly got lost in the world that inked its pages.

[theoppositequeens]

they say home is where your heart is set in stone

For @kanejweek Day 5: Love (atypical affection & domesticity).

Pairing: Kaz/Inej

Rating: T

Title from Gabrielle Aplin’s “Home”.

Summary: Three of the Dregs witness unexpected moments of love and domesticity.

THEY SAY HOME IS WHERE YOUR HEART IS SET IN STONE

sleeping

Anika is about to knock on the doorframe of Kaz's office.

His light is still on, and the door is ajar, so she thinks he might be up. It is rarer, these days, that Kaz is actually awake when she comes home from the Crow Club with that evening's numbers. On his few days off, when he entrusts the club to her, he is usually asleep or gone, and she reports to him in the morning. Most often, his days off coincide with a ship pulling into berth twenty-two, and Anika imagines that he and Inej are usually off on a rooftop somewhere, making moony eyes at each other. Those two are so disgustingly in love with each other, even if they aren't the couple for public displays of affection. Anika doesn't even think she's seen them touch more than ten times.

Now, they are touching.

Through the slim gap between the door and the doorframe, Anika has a good view of Kaz's sofa. It is an ugly brown plush thing he installed after too many late nights when he couldn't be bothered to climb the stairs and slept in his chair instead. Those work nights do not coincide with a ship being in the harbor. More like it being absent.

Either way, Kaz and Inej are curled up on the plush monstrosity, still in full dress, Kaz's arms wrapped carefully around the Wraith to keep her on the sofa. They look calm and peaceful together, like they belong. A lock and a key. Balance.

Inej is the key, Anika decides, and moves her fingers from the wood where they stopped millimeters from the frame. Her boss must be truly tired to have forgotten to lock or even close the door, and he deserves his rest. Anika does not want to take over the Dregs in the case he perishes of sleep-deprivation, after all.

And they look so disgustingly cute together, so she retreats silently.

cooking

Rotty is nursing the worst hangover in his life – funny, how he thinks that anew every morning after he's gone out drinking for a night – and he stumbles into the Slat's kitchen around midday, blinking blearily at the bright sunshine streaming in through a narrow window. He is led here by the smell of food, fried and good and hopefully enough for him too. Their cook usually takes pity on him, because he brings her fresh vegetables from the markets – stolen of course – when he is having a slow day and there are no fat pigeons around to be targeted.

"Any for me?" He asks hopefully as he turns the corner and spies the pan full of eggs and fried potatoes on the stove.

"Sure," someone answers, but he is too busy cringing at the sound of his raspy and hoarse voice to notice. As he sinks into a chair, a plate of food is set down by him, and he mutters a distracted thanks before he digs in. The meal is heavenly. Cook must have done something new with the spices. They remind him of Suli food that he once ate with Inej at a small market wagon, and he reminds himself to praise her after he has finished inhaling his food.

He largely ignores the normal noise of the kitchen, and when he looks up to thank Cook, he sputters. The fried potatoes don't feel quite as nice in his windpipe, so he coughs them out discreetly, trying not to be too loud. He doesn't want to spook his boss, who is drying dishes right in front of him.

He rubs his eyes once.

Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, is still drying dishes in the Slat's kitchen, dressed in an impeccable suit.

Inej passes Kaz another plate from the bucket of clean water that they dip the dishes in to wash off the suds, and Kaz dries it with one of the blue-checkered towels.

"– so then I told him that my ship, my rules, and he straight up ignored me. Until Sara kicked him where the sun doesn't shine, of course. Why am I hiring boys as deckhands again? Men are nothing but trouble."

The Wraith is rambling in a way Rotty rarely sees her do: Inej Ghafa is a private creature, not as much as Kaz, but enough to be reserved. Kaz nods seriously when Inej continues to tell him that men are trash and how this is the third male hire that has caused her issues and how it is going to be an all-woman ship from now on. Plus Specht. Because apparently, Specht doesn't count. Rotty will have to mention that to his old-time friend when he next sees him.

"And you don't count, of course," Inej says, as an afterthought. "You aren't like them."

Them seems to resonate deeply, and Rotty immediately thinks of the scumbags who frequent houses like the one Inej came from. He, himself, has never felt the need to pay for attention or a body. He likes his partners interested, thank you very much.

Clearly, Kaz is some type of safe haven for Inej. Rotty has watched the two of them circle each other like sharks, never sure if they will draw first blood or jump each other. Suddenly, their tension dissipated, and now he rarely focuses on them, since they have clearly sorted themselves out. Either way, it no longer interferes with his work.

Standing here, now, Rotty feels happy. Surprisingly happy. Somewhere deep in his crooked heart, he has always felt loyal to and protective of his boss, but he didn't realize he could be this proud. Proud to serve under this Barrel boss who is ruthless but cares for the Dregs, sometimes making reparations to the Slat out of his own pocket. This man who can make a woman who has been abused in the worst way feel safe, who agrees with her opinion that many men are trash but he is not one of them. Rotty likes knowing the Dregs are a good sort of gang when it comes to the Barrel with Kaz in the lead.

Inej has made Kaz more human, and he laughs when she hits him playfully with a splash of water a minute later.

At this point, Rotty realizes he has been sitting here and gaping at them for several minutes, and as Inej packs up her spices he remembers to praise her for them food and then slip out quickly before Kaz has time to think about the fact that Rotty has been there for quite a while.

Kaz may be in love with Inej, but he still dislikes being seen acting like a normal human being.

Inej's food is a magic hangover cure, and Rotty will beg her for the recipe later.

homecoming

Docking at berth twenty-two when dusk gathers is always a messy affair. First of all, pulling into the harbor that late, when the Council of Tides has almost stopped letting ships in for the night, is nerve-wracking. Then, they have to complete all the normal unloading before darkness falls.

Specht watches as the ship is secured, and directs the others on autopilot as they scurry to collect the waste that has been stored onboard to take it to the appropriate containers in the harbor and unload the legitimate cargo they have on board from Ravka, to conceal the fact that this ship hunts slavers. He sends one of the lousier girls a sharp glare when she seems ready to skulk off and watch the others work, and then eyes the docks carefully until he finds his captain.

Inej always has a private moment when they first dock, and usually she spends it on a dark corner of the dock, greeting Kaz Brekker.

There are two shapes almost intwined in the darkness, sharing an embrace.

Specht has watched them move from awkward hellos and goodbyes, to hand-holding, to soft touches on a cheek, to half-hugs, to hugs, to kisses. Their progress has been gradual, and now he can no longer anticipate what kind of greeting or goodbye he will witness. Tonight is a hug night, and when Inej bounces onto their ship a few minutes later, cheeks red and a smile on her face, Kaz follows.

It is a bit confounding still to see Kaz help Inej unload a shipment, like they are a completely normal couple who help each other with their work. Specht knows they collaborate on many schemes as Dirtyhands and the Wraith, that they are a force to be reckoned with, but they are so incredibly domestic sometimes. He thinks he sees a lot more than others do – Inej trusts him, and Kaz seems to grudgingly accept that. Therefore, they do not guard their actions carefully around him, and he has also heard his fair share from Inej about how she misses him and loves him when they are out at sea, months from making port in Ketterdam. She once asked him how she is supposed to stand this, being away from Kaz, and he answered,

"Make the moments on land count."

Inej had smiled like he'd solved a riddle, he'd ruffled her hair and she'd bounded off to sleep. He thinks that moment is the closest he'll ever come to having a kid.

Now he watches as Dirtyhands limps down a gangplank, placing a box in a waiting wagon, and Inej presses a careful kiss to his cheek later as thanks, and in that moment, Specht believes in love.

[hockeyforthefirsttime]

Speechless- Nolan Patrick

AN: Is the ending literal trash? yes, do i care at this point? also yes, but not enough

Word count: just over 3k

TW: none that I can think of, but let me know if i need to tag something:)

i

Nolan is definitely bored at the bar. He is out and supposed to be celebrating a win, but third wheeling with Tavis and Karly, simply is not fun. Not that it ever has been, but as he watches them laugh at each other on the dance floor.. well he takes a deep sigh and an even deeper swig of his beer. Some of the team is gathered around the bar ordering another round of drinks, and as he is scanning the crowd a woman walks in front of him, making him look up at her. 

And stop dead in his thoughts. 

She is wearing jeans that cling to her curves just right, a deep magenta top that seems to wrap around her stomach, before it reveals a little more than he can handle, and he looks up at her and sees the ghost of a smile on her lips. She isn’t looking at him though. She seems to be looking into the crowded dance floor, and Nolan desperately wants to know who she is looking for. 

In any other situation like this, he would have swept her off of her feet and wouldn’t have put her down until they’d reach his bed. But her obliviousness to him has knocked him off balance it seems. 

“Hey Patty, me and Karly are gonna head home. Want a ride?” 

Travis comes up to Nolan, Karly in tow and the mysterious girl moves with a quiet sorry and a fleeting smile. Nolan can feel his eyes drift after her before he meets Travis’ eyes, which are brimming with amusement. 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

He answers, and Travis bursts out laughing. 

“What, so you can sit here and stare like some kind of creep the rest of the night?” 

Nolan sees Karly gently shoving on Travis, also having noticed Nolans lingering gaze. 

“As opposed to going home in the same car as you two rabbits? No thank you.” 

Travis and Karly bid their goodbyes as the rest of the team and their significant others appear back at the table. Nobody seems to take notice of the Nolans distantness though, pinning it down as just his Philly personality. Nobody really sees him staring at this girl dancing in vans and a pink top. 

As the song ends he watches her go up to the bar, so in normal Nolan fashion he gets up and heads in that direction. He takes a look down at his watch and in a second, a split fucking second, she is gone. 

ii

He’s so fucking tired. The game last night had been decent. They’d won in overtime and Nolan had the assist, yet he keeps going over the chances he had and the chances he missed making in his head. Driving to the rink is dreary but even more so than usual. It’s not until he stops at a red light that he wakes up. He’s supporting his head on his left arm and looking out the passenger seat window. His eyes widen when he sees who is in the beaten up truck next to him. 

The girl from the bar three weeks ago. She has her hair down her shoulders and is looking at him through her own window. When she catches his eyes, she gives him a wink. As if she recognizes him. And if this was anyone else he might have given her a half smile, or even a wink back. But no. He can feel his cheeks heating up and getting rosy. God how he wishes he could be as confident as he usually is. The girl in the other car seems to be laughing a little, a smile on her lips. Nolan swears she starts slipping away from view, and in that second he remembers. He’s at a fucking red light. Except it isn’t red anymore, made obvious by the boisterous truck behind him, basically laying on his horn. 

Quickly he presses his foot down on the gas pedal and looks for the beaten up truck, which is nowhere to be seen. 

iii

It’s still winter and Nolan for some reason unknown to him decides to take a walk in the park not far from his apartment. He blames it on his restlessness, which stems from sitting inside the entire weekend. It’s nearing Christmas time and the main section of the park is covered in fairy lights and christmas decorations. There’s even a stand that sells hot chocolate. 

He buys a cup, puts in his earbuds and starts walking. It is nice out, he decides, with all the people out enjoying the snow on the ground. There are even some kids out rolling big snowballs, which turn into snow men and women. He feels a sudden wave of content roll over him. And a smile subconsciously finds its way onto his lips.

Nolan walks a little further, and doesn’t really stop, until a ball of golden fur is at his feet, almost making him trip. The wagging tail is making the entire body of the dog move and he catches himself smiling and taking out one of the earbuds. Immediately he hears the voice of a girl shouting. 

“Akira!”

The dog at his feet, looks around eagerly as her owner sprints up to him. And Nolan can hardly believe his luck. It is the bar girl. 

“I’m so sorry, she usually doesn’t run off like that.” 

And judging by her attire she is out for a jog, which would explain how out of breath she is. Quickly she pulls a leash out of her pocket and hooks it onto Akira’s harness. 

“Oh there’s no worries.” 

Nolan manages to stutter out. He sees a little smirk on her lips and curses his reddening cheeks for being so obvious. He bends his head a little and scratches Akira behind her ears. The golden retriever leans into his touch and a soft chuckle escapes the girl standing in front of him. 

He is just about to ask the girl her name when a phone starts ringing. It’s hers. Quickly, from another pocket, she pulls out a phone and answers it. He watches with steady eyes as a frown starts to grow on her face. 

“Fuck, okay yeah, I’ll be home in a few.” 

She hangs up the phone and pockets it, before she turns to look at him again. With a wink she turns around and Akira follows. 

“See you around Shy Guy!”

And just like that she’s gone. His chocolate is no longer hot, so he tracks back to his apartment, with discouragement sitting in his chest like a rock.

iiii

The Starbucks is so full, the line goes through the door and that’s the reason why Nolan doesn’t even consider entering it. He turns and treks back a block until he sees this quaint little cafe he’s never really noticed. Which is no surprise, because it seems to be mostly inhabited by students. With the amount of computers and books up at the cafe tables and its location closer to UPenn it should come as no surprise. 

And maybe he gets a little hopeful that the bar girl will be there, so despite his logical mind, he enters through the glass doors and goes straight to the counter. The boy has to be around his own age, but a fair bit skinnier and with glasses on. It makes him look a bit too young in Nolan's eyes, but it doesn’t really matter. 

“Hey, what can I get you today?” 

The young boy asks as he wipes down the counter. 

“Ehh, just a large black coffee, please.” 

Nolan says and pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t completely register the bell over the door ringing, not until the gust of cold air washes over him. Instinctively he turns and spots a smaller frame entering the cafe. A hoodie over their head and a black jacket, lightly dusted with quickly melting snow.  And a pair of beaten up, black vans on their feet. His hopes rise, and yet again he is rewarded with the presence of the bar girl. She shakes out her hair a little as she pulls the hood off of her head. Nolan could swear his heart stopped right there. The evening sun shines through the window, making her hair appear as a halo around her. 

She hasn’t noticed him yet. So he turns and tries to calm his blush. The guy behind the counter has begun making his coffee so he doesn’t really know what to do. The bar girl comes up behind him. He can tell by the way the barista nods at her with a smile. 

“Hey Dylan, how are you today?” 

And Nolan is instantly a bit jealous of this Dylan, who gets to hear his name falling from her lips. 

“I’m good Rory, thanks, how are you?” 

Dylan answers, and it feels like his heart is in his throat. Her name is Rory? It suits her. 

“Could be better to be honest, this paper on existence due next week is really kicking my ass.” 

She answers as she comes closer, and Nolan moves further up the counter to give them room. 

“Tell me about it, you want the usual?” 

She nods and slings her backpack off one shoulder to unzip a pocket, and pulls out a card. Dylan finishes Nolan's order and places it on the corner of the counter. Nolan can feel his chance slip through his fingers and begins to panic a little. 

Until he spots a pen on the counter near his cup. Quickly he grabs it and scribbles his name and number on the cup. And he couldn’t have cued it better for AV to call him. He puts the cup down again and picks up the call. 

“Nolan, have you looked over the videos yet?”

Alain, straight to the point as usual. 

“Yeah, saw them yesterday, and I have some ideas in mind for me to improve.” 

He speaks into the phone, while he puts a hand on the back of his neck. 

“Good good, I will see you tomorrow then?” 

“Yes, sir. Bright and early.” 

And then they hang up. He sees that another cup has appeared beside his. He throws a quick glance at Rory, who is still talking to the barista,  and turns his cup the other way so the writing isn’t visible and grabs her cup. Then, he nods a goodbye to Dylan and exits the door. 

He’s almost half a block away when his phone rings. He hasn’t drunk out of the cup, but it smells a little sweet and enticing. He looks at the phone and sees an unknown number. He lets it ring twice more before answering.

“Hey, this is Nolan?” 

He tries to sound nonchalant. 

“Hey, Shy guy. This is Rory. You didn’t by any chance grab my coffee on the way out?” 

Despite the fact that he doesn’t actually know her, he swears he can hear a smile over the phone. And he is a little bit shocked by the nickname. 

“Oh, so this is who it belongs to?”

She lets out a little chuckle, before she answers. 

“Yeah, mind returning it?” 

He smiles at the laugh. 

+1

Nolan is different, not that he will admit it, but the team can tell. He seems to be more patient, more focused on practicing drills and getting them right, and also for some reason, more ready for practice to be over. At first it’s a subtle change, but after a while and two games where he plays over all very well, it seems to be more than just determination. It seems like he wants to impress someone. 

At first they shake it as him wanting to prove himself to.. well everyone. But one day when Oskar asks him who he is texting so frequently, Nolan can feel his cheeks and ears tint even more than usual. Damn her and the effect she has on him. He tries to play it cool with a casual shrug, but half the locker room seems to burst out laughing. Quickly he puts his phone in his pocket and heads for the door. 

“Have a good weekend guys!” 

He calls out behind him out of habit, as it is a weekend without games and he is taking a short trip home. Various chirps get called out behind him, but Teeks seems to be the loudest one. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

And all hell breaks loose as they all start on chirping Travis about how he can do anything then. With a fond smile, Nolan heads for his car, where he has a pre- packed bag as well as his passport and a carryon. 

He parks his car in the airport parking lot and he swears, there is something familiar about the truck beside his car. He shoves it to the back of his mind and starts crossing to the terminal. He’s late tho, and only half an hour to get on his flight, so as he anxiously stands in line for check in he pulls up his phone and sees a new text from Rory.

Hey, I’ll be gone for a couple of hours, text when I can:)

It was sent five minutes ago, and he groans a little at the fact that he has to wait faster, very bored. Finally he has checked in his bag and been cleared to enter the airport all the way to his flight. 

In a half jog, half sprint he manages to make it just shy of ten minutes before the gate closes. He pulls his cap further down on his head and puts his ticket and passport on the desk. The hostess scowls at him but lets him enter the already boarded plane. 

The smell of too many people and bad flight food smacks him in the face as he enters the plane with another nod to a different flight hostess. 

34B seems too far away, but he bites his tongue and keeps walking. He looks at the bald man in 34C and the hooded figure in 34A. He swears, there is something familiar about this too but his mind is a little fuzzy and he can’t quite place it. 

“Scuse me.” 

He mumbles to the man and he politely moves so Nolan can find his seat. The girl in the seat next to the window turns and looks at him, and finally it seems that he has steady ground under his feet. 

“Well, seems like I won’t text you in a couple of hours then.” 

Rory smiles at him. And he smiles back. 

“Nope you’re stuck with me for the next five and a half hours.” 

He teases and plops down in his seat. 

“What the fuck are you going to Winnipeg for though?” 

Nolan asks as he fastens his seatbelt and ignores the security instructions completely. 

“Oh I haven’t told you? My family lives there.” 

He feels flabbergasted, how in the living hell has he forgotten to ask? He always assumed she was from Philly.

“Why are you going there anyway?” 

Rory asks, but he sees the twinkle in her eyes, she’s just joking with him.

“I’m visiting my girlfriend.” 

He decides to reply dead serious. And the twinkle in her eyes disappears, a frown begins to form between her eyebrows and he instantly feels a little bad. 

“I’m- sorry, that was a really bad joke.” 

This time it seems, it’s her turn to get embarrassed. Neither of them get time to think it over though, because the plane starts accelerating and her hand immediately lands on his. He sees her jaw tense and feels her hand tighten around his knuckles. Nolan doesn’t want to comment on it though, and just lets her hold on. 

As they lift off the tarmac her hand slowly starts easing up and when they level out in the air, she seems to have realised that she’s holding his hand. Quickly she lets go, and Nolan already misses it. 

“Sorry about that, I get a little nervous about the take off.” 

She seems a little nervous to admit it, but he asks anyway. 

“How come?” 

“Oh, ever heard of the irresistible force paradox?” 

He shakes his head no, and that launches her into an explanation of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. It’s obvious she loves theories like this, with the way she talks and moves her hands. 

“- which stems from both a chinese and a roman legend. The roman is about Zeus and how he fixed the Teumessian fox, who can never be caught, and the hound Laelaps who never misses what he hunts to the sky in constellations.” 

She stops, and Nolan really wishes she wouldn’t. Her voice is so calming yet enchanting at the same time, he could listen and learn every day for forever. 

“But wouldn’t that mean that the fox wins? because it never gets caught?” 

He questiones. 

“Exactly! I’ve been thinking about it for days now.” 

And the plane ride goes on like that, until Rory has heard of most of the flyers and Nolan knows the name of almost all her professors. It’s closer to night time when she starts to slur her words, because of tiredness. She ends up with her head on his shoulder and his hair a little bit in her face. But the weight of his head leaning against hers is priceless.  

Nolan wakes up a little bit before her and sees that they’re landing soon. So he shakes Rory awake with a promise of a date in the morning. Since they don’t live too far away from each other. And she agrees. 

They step off the plane together, collect their luggage together, Nolan’s arm slung around Rory’s shoulder, and hug each other so long, before departing to their own separate families. 

“Hey, see you tomorrow shy guy!” 

She winks at him, rendering him speechless in front of his family. His sister glances at him with a questioning look as she watches the other girl walk away. Usually few people render Nolan at a loss for words.