#such a sweet moment and then the last three pages is just a punch to the gut :’) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theshelbyclan · 4 years ago

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Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe. In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed.

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

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likeshipsonthesea · 4 years ago

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mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it.

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji.

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal? the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.”

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

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kirieshhhka003 · 4 years ago

Note

Jolyne and step sister s/o doing it👀

Pairing: Jolyne Kujo x fem! Reader

Word count: 1,7k

Warnings: incest (not really, reader is Jolyne’s step sis), fingering, cunnylingus, squirting, language

My dear step sister

It’s a lovely Saturday morning, sunlight pours down through the uncurtained window, filling your room with warmth. Summer only begins and you can hear birds chirping outside

It was surprisingly quiet at home - TV almost never shuts up and there are always some noises come from the kitchen, but today - pure silence. You then remember your mom telling that she wanted to go outdoors with her friends and that she will come home late today

Your step dad - Jotaro - is out for his work, which is not a surprise. Actually, it’s a big nonsense when he is at home, but you prefer not to think much about that. But what about your step sister? She almost never shuts up, mumbling something quietly or bragging about some bullshit on the phone with her friends. She must be somewhere out, hanging out with Hermes or that weirdo Anasui

You’re laying on your belly, lazily flipping through the pages of fashion magazine your step sister got yesterday. A full crap. All outfits look gross, and you’re doing your best not to throw this shitty magazine out of the window. You close the journal and cast it aside, closing your eyes and letting out an irritated groan

The sound of soft footsteps echoes from the wall of the corridor and the next second door of your room opens, revealing pretty face of your step sister. A mischievous leer, that stretches her full lips, doesn’t go unnoticed and you can only take a deep breath, waiting for girl to tell you what she’s planned

- Y/n~, whatcha doing? - Jolyne drawls as she nears your bad, collapsing on top of the soft mattress a few centimeters from you. You raise your eyebrows for a little, watching intently at green-haired - she definitely comes up with some dumb shit

- Jolyne, if you’re bored and wanna задолбать me - please leave. I don’t wanna spend time on pointless fights with you. Moreover, I was sure that you’ve left, - you say meekly, feeling already tired of green-haired girl

- Hey, I’m not that mean! And yes, I wanted to go to Hermes’ place, but then I found out that mom left us all alone, if you know what I mean, - Jolyne replies with a wide smile and plays with her eyebrows. You already know what she wants from you

Jolyne shifts herself closer to you so her breasts bump against your shoulder, you can feel the fresh scent of Jolyne’s coconut shampoo

- I know what we can do to entertain ourselves for a few good hours, - she whispers sweetly in your ear, rubbing her nose agains your cheekbone. Ah, here it is

You feel Jolyne’s hand trailing down your back, following along the curves of your spine, stopping on your butt and squeezing soft flesh in her palm and then rubbing it slightly. You

- Hey, no. We did it two days ago, - you grab Kujo’s hand on your ass and pull it away from your body, giving girl a severe sight, seeing how pouty her chicks become

- So what? We can do it today as well too, - Jolyne cooes next to your ear, her mint breath tickles the skin of your cheek and girl shifts even closer to you, leaving faint kiss on your temple and slowly wrapping her lips around your earlobe, starting to mildly suck on it

An exhausted sigh leaves your lungs as you turn to the side, facing Jolyne’s relaxed form. You open your mouth to say something witty but you’re harshly interrupted by Jolyne’s persistent lips right on top of yours. You try to resent for a few seconds but quickly forget about your “anger” and give in a kiss, leaning forward to bump your chest into your sister’s bust

Kujo tangles her slender pale fingers in your hair, massaging your scalp and slightly tugging your locks. Soon Jolyne has you laying on your back, placing her legs on either side of you, grinding her crotch against your abdomen and whining quietly. You look up at her slim form and notice how Jolyne’s nipples perk up against the thin fabric of her home singlet. Thick saliva fills your mouth as you think of those precious little flesh buds - Jolyne’s tits are so sensitive, you can make her cum only by sucking on her breasts

Jolyne notices the way you stare at her chest and slowly - painfully so - tugs the hem of her singlet up, revealing her tits in all beauty. She’s already turned up - you can say that by the way her nipples have swollen for a little, waiting desperately for your touches. Girl again grinds against your stomach a few times, filthy moans slip past her lips, and she cups her own tits, punching and tugging her pink nipples

You exhale sharply through your nose and place your hands on sister’s ass, squeezing her buttocks and jiggling her pliable flesh in your palms. Jolyne arches her back and leans down to you, giving you a wet sloppy kiss. Your hands run up Kujo’s abdomen, caressing her sides fervently, and you notice little goosebumps rise on her bronze skin from your touch. You stop on her breasts, cupping them over with your warm palms and mold them enthusiastically

The next moment you have Jolyne pinned beneath you. Green-haired smirks up at you and splays her legs wide open, giving you full access to her sex, her eyes glimmer with lust. It doesn’t take long for you to take off her sporty shorts and throw them away, revealing Jolyne’s slicked pussy

- You don’t even have any underwear, whore. That desperate for me? - you can’t just pass up an opportunity to mock your step sister, leering at her mischievously. She rolls her eyes back in the head and clicks tongue irritated by your words, furrowing her pretty eyebrows in a frown expression

- Shut the fuck up and do what you’re supposed to, - now it’s your turn to roll your eyes and you solidly slap Jolyne’s thigh, so that the sharp sound of the smack rocks the space of your room. Your thumb rubs tightly against her swollen hooded clit, making green-haired moan filthily and bump her hips desperately into your hand

You lean down, leaving small trail of wet kisses on Jolyne’s neck, your free hand slides lower and lower from Kujo’s chest, making its way down to her crotch. She lets out a loud wanton moan as you shove your middle finger into her slicked throbbing pussy

Kujo reclines her head on soft pillows that lay on your bed, giving you more space of her neck to kiss. Her legs seize around you, pulling your form closer to herself as you slowly add second finger in her velvety warmth. Jolyne arches her back even more, gripping on bedsheets, as you cover one of her nipples with your mouth, licking and sucking on it

- Oh shit babe, just like that, - green-haired whispers hoarsely and snaps her hips into every thrust of your hand, her plushy cunny clamping around your digits. The movements of your hand are harsh and fast, you bump into Jolyne’s pussy as deep as you can, and when you see that your sister is on the brim of cumming, you pull your fingers out, making her cry out loudly:

- You fucker! Put that back in! - she shouts almost sobbing. Oh, how mad she is. A shiteating grin plasters across your face as you scoop Jolyne’s juices from her pussy and bring your slicked digits up to your mouth, licking them off

You crouch over Jolyne’s slit, facing her wet slicked pussy, you notice a small dribble of her juices leading to perineum, and you make a wide lick, starting from that sweet little spot and moving to her overstimulated clit. Green-haired girl runs her fingers through your hair, slightly tugging on it and pulling your face closer to her core

Your nimble tongue strokes Kujo’s hooded clit, as your hands caress her hips and tummy, sometimes gripping on her tits and tugging her nipples. Jolyne’s thighs straddle your head, not letting you pull away and almost suffocating on her pussy. You suck on her labia as you force three of your fingers deep down your sister’s fluttering hole. She squeals loudly at the sudden feeling of fullness, and completely loses control over herself as you start fucking her out with your hand

Your thrusts are just feral - you bury your fingers right to the hilt inside of Jolyne’s clenching heat, then pulling them out almost to the end. And the next moment everything repeats again. The suckle of green-haired pussy makes something flutter in your tummy, tickling your insides, your underwear is now completely dump. You pull one hand away from Jolyne’s body and shove it in under your panties, rubbing tight circles at your clit while moaning into Kujo’s pussy

You curve your fingers up inside of Jolyne, making her squirm beneath you. Her grip on your hair tightens as she almost fucks your face, with every deep thrust you stroke all the right places inside of your sister’s cunny, your tongue rubs firmly against her clit. You feel green-haired starting shaking, tight walls of her pussy clench around your digits as her hips start to buck into your face

Jolyne screams out your name as orgasm crushes over green-haired, filling her body with intense pleasure, making her beating in sweet cramps. Your sister squirts a few drops on your digits, soaking your bedsheets a little. You let Jolyne ride out her orgasm, making the last few deep thrusts, before pulling away from Kujo

You place a wet smack on green-haired’s bent knee, stroking her thighs idly. She whimpers under your touch, still trembling from recent orgasm. The expression in her face is totally debauched, Jolyne looks completely fucked out. You can bet that this is exactly what Anasui imagines while jerking off

You chuckle quietly at this thought and take your t-shirt off, this useless garment joins your sister’s clothes in the floor. You lean down on Jolyne for a droopy kiss while tugging the waist of your shirts together with underwear down. Your own cunny is dripping wet, and your sister should work real good to pay you for such a powerful orgasm

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

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imagines--galore · 2 years ago

Text

||Heaven’s Light||

Summary: Leonardo does not believe he is capable of being loved, given how he looks. Amal doesn’t believe so. And wants to make him understand that he, as well as his brothers, will one day find love.

Pairing: Leonardo x AmalOC (TMNT)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: No rating just a general. Slight Romance. Fluff. No warnings.

A/N: Yay! My first Imagine here! I hope anyone reading it likes it! I just want to try out how things go. I’m still setting things up on my page, but this song from The Hunchback of Notre Dame came on and I just couldn’t help but associate it with the Turtles, specifically Leonardo. Also I’m just adding this gif just because, I’m not really picking a Verse for when it comes to TMNT, because I love all versions of them:3 Enjoy!

What day went by when siblings did not argue amongst themselves? The Turtles may be mutants but it didn’t stop them arguing with each other. At least three of them were doing so at the moment.

“Amal said not to play it!” Donnie’s voice was a little stern as he spoke the words, glaring at his other two brothers. Raph snorted.

“Yeah well, since when have we listened to Amal?” He crossed his arms over his plastron. Mikey smacked his lips, tilting his head as he hummed in thought.

“Since the time we accidentally knocked her out in the process of saving her!”

Silence followed his words, as all three brother cringed at the embarrassing first encounter they had with the girl.

“..........Well I know it wasn’t me that did that.” Raph was quick to declare, having made the argument before. Donnie rolled his eyes as he briefly looked away from his computer screen to give his brother a look.

“We don’t know who it was. And I would prefer it stay that way. We wouldn’t hear the end of it if she found out which one of us did that.” He added the last part in a small grumble, knowing how persistent the girl could get. He shivered at the very thought. Mikey nodded in agreement as Raph scowled.

“I still stand by the fact that it was Mikey.” He muttered under his breath, earning a cry of indignation from his younger brother.

Leonardo, the only brother not participating in the argument, glanced up from his shell phone. He had been informing the girl of his brother’s arguments. “She says we can play it.” He called out to Donnie. Mikey let out a silent yes, wanting his curiosity to be satisfied, while Donnie quickly punched a few commands into the computer to play the audio.

“Hope it isn’t that infernal music she listens to all the time.” Raph muttered, recalling when Amal had made them listen to some operatic piece because she claimed that they needed a little but of culture in them. Leonardo smirked slightly at his annoyed brother, having enjoyed how much it had irked Raphael.

The song began as soon as Donnie pressed play. It was soft. Not at all like the music any of them listened to. And yet Amal always told them to focus on the lyrics, even if you didn’t understand them. And so the brothers, standing around Donnie’s work space, listened attentively. The lyrics made Leonardo frown a little, a suspicion forming in his mind as to why Amal would want them to listen to this particular song. It had barely ended when he heard Amal approaching them from the Lair’s entrance.

“Oh good! You listened to it already! What did you think?” She questioned, depositing her gym bag on a nearby couch and removing her jacket. Leo turned where he stood, his heart doing a little lurch when he saw her. It had been doing that for awhile now, and was something he considered normal. Her gaze was open and eager to hear what they had to say about the song, which made him pause for a brief second.

“Well you know me Amal. I prefer figuring out how a toaster works rather then understand the deep meaning behind a song.” Donnie joked, earning an eyeroll from the human. Mikey had already bounded his way towards the girl and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“Sweet choice as always Amal. It was amazing. Mesmerizing. Fascinating. Hypnotizing.” Raph cut him off.

“And we have no idea why you made us listen to it. Usually you have a reason.” Mikey nodded, looking a little bummed. “Yeah dudette. No idea.”

Amal chuckled lightly, opening her mouth to speak when Leonardo’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Curious the girl nodded.

“You keep listening to that track. If you figure out the reason, I’ll order pizza!” The bribe made them a little more eager as they turned to the screen once more, Donnie already hitting play.

She quickly followed after the leader, singing the song softly under her breath as she came to stand in front of him, mirroring his stance as she looked up at him. She had to look up, he was a lot taller then she.

“Is this because of the conversation we had a few days ago?” Leo asked, not bothering to beat about the bush. Amal shrugged. “I guess you can say its one of the reasons.”

Leonardo sighed, his shoulders dropping as his posture relaxed and he gave Amal a resigned look. “And I told you to drop it.”

A week or so ago Leonardo had dropped by Amal’s place for one of their routine hang outs. Just the two of them. It was nice to just chat without the chaos of his brothers around. They’d been sitting on her darkened balcony when she had caught sight of a couple having a romantic dinner on their own balcony. With candles and flowers and champagne and music. While she had cooed over the romance of it all, Leonardo had scowled and been indifferent about it. She had been curious. And was enough of a nosy and persistent person to finally get it out of him.

Leonardo did not believe in romance. Oh he believed in love alright. He loved his family after all. But that was familial love. The kind of love the couple on the balcony had? That was something neither he nor his brothers could ever experience. Amal had protested, saying they were all some of the best people she knew. And Leonardo had looked at her, long and hard and so sad that words died on her lips.

What he said next felt like a punch to her heart.

“And who would love someone who looks like us? Who looks like me?”

Even now, standing in front of him, tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them back and reached out to lay a gentle hand on his forearm. Feeling the rough skin under her own smooth fingers, Amal smiled gently.

“Leo. If April, Casey and I can accept you guys as you are, who’s to say someone else won’t? Believe me when I say there is someone out there, who, I am dubbing an Angel, will accept you for you and love you for you.” Her heart doubled in speed as she spoke, pouring every bit of conviction she could into her words. “Green skin and shell and all.” She added with a teasing smile.

Leonardo continued to look at her, with an intensity that had her biting her lower lip nervously. Her heart raced in her ears, and she feared he could pick up the sound with his ninja skills. What she wasn’t aware of was the war raging within him as he wandered if he was perhaps beginning to see his friend in a whole new light. Finally, he broke their gaze and looked to where her hand rested on his arm, covering it with his own hand and giving it a squeeze. He didn’t need to say anything, Amal understood. “You’re welcome.”

With one last smile she slipped from his grasp and walked over to the other three brothers, who were now arguing about their ideas, each claiming he was right.

Leonardo stood where he was, watching her walk with the grace of the dancer that she was, silently wandering if perhaps she was the Angel she had just spoken of.

But then that would be too easy.

And life was never easy.

#leonardo x reader #leonardo x oc #leonardo imagine #tmnt #tmnt imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles imagine

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years ago

Text

What if... Family Portrait

(Excuse me while I DIE because the art deity @cacodaemonia was so incredibly kind to create a What-If version of the Fearsome Four pic that Davarax took before he was ripped away from them. Well, here you have the Devoted Dad, Mama Bear, and their Fearsome Five! The cuteness, the adorableness, the PERFECTION is killing me! Davarax’ and Dulcy’s smiles (his slightly slanted grin and her big happy one, aaaah) and their hair (I worship the floof!) and their eyes (So kind, how??) and their armour (sessayh!) and... *flails* All of it!! And sweet, adorable, big eyed Corin, still a little more timid than his rambunctious siblings... PERFECT, I SAY! And to think this is what Corin could have had... Well, in the What-if, this is what he does have!)

A hundred years ago, I promised Davarax’ POV when Dulcy was kidnapped. Apologies for the unforgivably long wait, but I hope the fact that it was meant to be four pages and ended up closer to thirteen can make up for it a little?

What If... we saw it through Davarax’ eyes?

Davarax lowers Zurf to the floor with his grip on his wrist instead of slamming him to the ground like he usually does after managing to flip him over. Letting go, he then backs up, lifts his hands into the air to acknowledge the roar of approval from the other seven Mandalorians present in the training room and nods at the mix of praise aimed his way and the mockery flying Zurf’s way.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Belitz calls out, gesturing for everyone to settle down while he walks towards Davarax. “What was that, Davarax?”

Grinning, Davarax starts backing towards the exit. “That? That I believe was a win.”

“Since when do you coddle your opponent?” Belitz demands to know and follows, trailing after the scent of possible juicy news like a Corellian hound. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m not allowed to be in a good mood?” Davarax drawls, still grinning, still backing up.

“I’ve experienced you in a good mood.” Belitz states. “This is not you in a good mood. You in a good mood is merely spraining bones instead of breaking them. This? This is something else. What happened?”

Davarax snorts amused. He will die before he tells them anything.

“It’s that woman, isn’t it? The outsider.” Pagyle shouts from the other side of the room. Her voice soaked with glee. “She’s got you soft.”

Finally reaching the exit, Davarax does an extravagant bow. “I win. I leave. See you tomorrow, losers.” And then he flees, laughing out loud at the wave of questions and suggestive howling that follows him.

They are right and they are wrong. Wrong, because Davarax ‘is’ in a good mood. Extremely good mood. Honestly, he’s drunk on happiness. And his sparring partners are right, because he does owe the glow in his chest and the smile on his lips to Dulsissia.

Davarax can’t stop himself from bringing up the memory of her looking at him with open affection, the sensation of her fingers braiding with his, as well as the lazy bliss of just having her close and feeling her breathe. And that was just the memories from last night.

He’s never felt anything like this for anyone before. He’s never met anyone like her before.

Over a year with him on a different planet and yet Dulsissia had waited for him. Davarax doubts she knows how much her messages had helped him through that year. She has no idea how many times he replayed those holos during the moments when the darkness curled up in his chest from missing her and his other three kids so much he could barely breathe. How he dreaded what he would come back home to. Every day he woke up thinking that would be the day he learned he’d lost her.

Davarax had believed her when Dulsissia said she’d wait, but life happens and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had found someone else… but she didn’t. She kept the children safe, handled life in the Covert like she’d grown up there and welcomed him back like she had missed him every bit as much as he’d missed her. If anything, it seems like her feelings for him were even stronger.

It gives him hope. Maybe one day, please let it happen, he’ll be able to defeat the demons from her past, rebuild the trust Macero Valentis had shattered, and take his helmet off for her.

Davarax’ happiness lasts until there is a knock on his door, hours later as he’s about to get ready for the day’s training session with the children, and he opens it to find Corin and Din looking up at him with almost identical anxious facial expressions.

“Is… Is my mom here?” Corin asks in a thin voice.

Davarax frowns. “No?” It’s late afternoon, a time she usually spends with her son, and he hasn’t seen her since she left his room last night. “Why are you asking?”

Corin fidgets. “Me and Din were working on a project with Barthor. Mom was supposed to come pick me up, but she never showed. A-and when we went back to my room, she wasn’t there either.”

Unease instantly coils around Davarax’ heart. There is no way Dulsissia would forget picking up Corin. She wouldn’t. If something came up, something so serious it couldn’t wait, she would have asked Davarax or someone else to bring a message to Corin and make sure he was okay.

Something is wrong.

Corin and Din already look horribly nervous and as Davarax doesn’t want to upset them further he keeps his thoughts to himself. He clears his throat and tries to sound calm. “Okay, listen…” Davarax tries to think and not just react. “I’ll ask around. She probably got caught up in something.” He considers his options and gestures the boys inside. “You two wait here. Okay?”

Sniffling, Corin seems to be very much aware of the seriousness of the situation and simply stands there, head lowered, until Din places his arm around him and leads him into the room.

Davarax takes a step out but pauses to look back at the boys. “And, uh, don’t touch the weapons.” While he trusts them, he also can’t ignore the fact that there are explosives in his room strong enough to send them all to Mandalore That Was.

Din nods. Corin merely sniffles again.

Davarax rushes towards the people he knows Dulcy has the most contact with. Decco hasn’t seen her all day, neither had the next one he asks, but then he gets his first lead.

“I think she went above?” Ayah says, shrugging. “I saw her walking down the hallway with that basket of hers this morning.”

This makes the unease grow stronger. Davarax stalks towards the stairs and enters the city above to set course to where he knows she usually sets up her little stand to sell her cookies.

The sun is shining over Nevarro, the HUD lists the temperatures uncomfortably high, so it shouldn’t be surprising that few people are walking around, but it still fuels Davarax’ unease and makes him wonder if something had scared people indoors. He pauses for half a second when he turns the corner and sees she’s not there. Dulcy is not in her spot. There’s not a single soul in the street. His heart drops. Cold sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. She’s not there! But, his eyes focuses on the ground, but there is ‘something’ there…

Walking over, Davarax kneels down. He reaches down and brushes some sand away so he can pick up what had caught his attention.

It’s a piece of a cookie.

Staring at it, Davarax swallows down his ever increasing sense of doom and forces himself to look around on the ground. He sees more pieces. Like someone had dropped a bag of them on the ground and then stepped on it. His heartbeats feel like punches inside his chest. Fear. Raw fear. What had happened here?

“Are you looking for the nice cookie lady?” A voice asks.

Davarax looks up and sees a scruffy mercenary standing a small distance away, leaning against the wall next to him and munching away on a cookie with the few teeth he has left. Davarax stands up and drops the piece he had been holding. “Yes. Have you seen her?”

The mercenary nods, chewing thoughtfully. “She was her earlier.”

“Did you see where she went?” Davarax asks.

“The Imp took her away.” A different voice replies. It’s another mercenary. She has a small bag of Dulcy’s cookies hanging from her belt, next to grenades and what looks like small bones. She has more teeth than the other guy. A lot more teeth. Sharp ones.

“What Imp?” Davarax presses on, refusing to acknowledge how panic is starting to set in. He’d told Dulcy she was safe. He’d told her not to be afraid of going into the city because they’d know if Valentis showed up. Had Macero Valentis taken her away?

“An officer.” The first mercenary replies. “He had a whole bunch of those stormtroopers with him. Nothing we could do.” A slight frown settles between his eyebrows. “Seemed like she knew him.”

Davarax closes his eyes, forces himself to stay calm despite being horrified and enraged at the same time, then he exhales and opens them again. “Did you see where they were going?”

“The army base.” The second mercenary informs him. “I hope you find her. She’s nice.”

Thanking them, Davarax heads below again and finds the one responsible for supervising the information coming in about the Imperial movement on the planet. It is another test of his willpower when he learns that he wasn’t warned because he’d told them to keep an eye out for someone who asked around about Dulcy and Corin or the arrival of a man by the name of Macero Valentis. No one had asked around about Dulcy and Corin, and Davarax had said nothing about a Vecon Valentis. They also inform Davarax that Vecon Valentis’ ship had left in a hurry hours ago.

Seething, Davarax barely resists unleashing his anger on these idiots, who probably weren’t too concerned about the safety of an outsider, and he stalks off to the one with the power to do something about this nightmare.

His sister.

Stepping into the Forge, smacking his hand on the button to close the door, Davarax does not kneel down. His heart his thumping like crazy. Dulcy is okay. Yeah, she’s okay. Dulcy is tough. She can handle herself until he can get to her. Please let her be okay. She has to be. Davarax yanks off his helmet. “The Imps got Dulcy.”

His sister pauses in her work, the golden helmet turns and her expressionless t-visor looks at him. “I was just informed.”

Davarax takes a step forward. “We have to go after them.”

There is a moment of silence and then she lowers her hammer and sets it aside. “No.”

Blinking, Davarax did not expect that answer. Okay, she had not been thrilled about Dulcy from the second he’d brought her home, finding her weak and whimsical, but he’d taken it for granted that she’d resent Imps taking someone under her protection. “Why not?”

“She’s an outsider.” His sister replies. Her voice is as emotionless as her helmet. “She’s not a Mandalorian. She’s not a Foundling. She’s not of this Covert. I will not risk the lives of our people for her. That is not the Way.”

Now Davarax is the one who needs a moment of silence and then he finds his voice again. “What about her son?”

“The boy is your Foundling.” Is the flat reply. “According to your reports, he shows promise as a fighter.”

Davarax nods thoughtfully, knowing there is no way he can change her mind. She’s not someone who changes her mind. He should know. “I will make arrangements that he’ll be taken care of if I don’t return.” He turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” Now there is a hint of sharpness in her voice.

Davarax stops, stares at the door and tries to sort out what he’s feeling. It’s like there is an imploding star inside his chest. It’s hard to breathe. “I’m going after her.”

“You are not.” That is an order.

“I am.” Davarax turns to face his sister again. He can’t lose Dulcy. He won’t. He refuses!

“You are staying here.”

“Or what?” Davarax snarls viciously, stepping forward, hands clenching and pure rage burning in his eyes.

She lifts her hands and removes her helmet. Her dark eyes and strong cheekbones, her hair that mix of brown and red, so similar to their mother she could be her twin. There is no mercy in her gaze. “You are staying here, brother. You are not going after her. She will lead you to your death.”

Davarax does not back down one inch. She was always meant to be the one to follow in their parents footsteps and he was to be her general, but this is an order he will not obey. “I love her vod. There is only one way you can stop me and you know it.” She is going to have to beat him unconscious and he will fight her with everything he’s got. “Try it!”

Her eyes narrow a tiny bit. For her, that is a huge red flag, revealing just how angry she is. Despite her detachment to most things, Davarax knows she loves him. She lets him get away with so much, stuff no other Mandalorian would dare to try under her rule, and she will knock him out if she thinks it will save his life.

But he will never forgive her if she stops him from saving Dulcy, his heart and future, and his sister must know this because she simply puts her helmet back on and turns away from him.

She won’t stop him, but he’s on his own. It hurts, but he’s not surprised.

Davarax puts his own helmet back on and walks out of the room.

Davarax is shaking. His head and his heart is in complete chaos.

He’s dreading what Dulcy is going through. Guilt is ripping him apart. She’d trusted him and now she is being brought back to the man who had almost ruined her and her son. Macero’s temper must be terrible, judging by how terrified she’d been when she thought he’d found them due to that lone stormtrooper, and Davarax can barely breathe when thinking about what the man will do to her if he gets his hands on her.

Davarax fights air into his lungs. Focus. He cannot undo what has happened, he needs to focus on what he can do. He needs his weapons and he has to explain to Corin what has happened and...

Davarax marches back to his room.

“Uncle Vecon…?” Corin goes pale as a sheet. His eyes fill up with more tears and his little frame start to tremble. “He’s… He’s going to take mom back to father. And he’s going to be sooo angry…”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle hold of his shoulder and makes the boy look up at him. “Corin, listen to me, I won’t let that happen. Understand? I’m going to get your mom back. I promise you.” Corin looks up at him with complete trust despite the fear in his eyes. So young and yet painfully aware of the horrors his father is capable of. “You promise?”

Davarax nods, struggling to hide how much he wants to kill Corin’s father. The Galaxy would be a better place with one less monster in it. He pulls the boy in close and hugs him. “I promise.” And he fully intends to keep that promise. “But for me to do this, I need you to do me a huge favour.”

Nodding, Corin absently wipes a runaway tear from his face. “Okay.”

“What do you need us to do?” Din asks, ready to be Corin’s support pillar and Davarax feels a stab of pride as well as affection for the boy. His brave Foundling. Despite the horror he went through himself not too many years ago, Din doesn’t hesitate to support his friend. Like a true Mandalorian.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” Davarax doesn’t want to mention the possibility he might not come back at all. They are worried enough. “I need Corin to stay with… a friend of mine until I get back.”

Din lowers his gaze, knowing Davarax is not talking about his parents as they have made it clear they do not like outsiders and consider Corin very much as one. “I’ll… come along. Make sure he settles in.” “Thank you.” Davarax says. He’s not entirely thrilled about what he’s about to do, but it’s his least bad option out of a bunch of worse options. “Corin, let’s go by your room and pick up some stuff for a couple of days. Okay? We have to hurry.” Corin nods, meek and affable. He’s horribly pale and looks heartbreakingly shaken, but he is holding himself together despite having lost the person who means the most to him. He’s stronger than he knows, Davarax muses. One day that boy will grow up to be a powerful warrior.

They pick up some clothes and Corin’s datapad. Davarax notices a small pile of Din’s clothing lying on a chair in a corner and wonders just how much time the kid spends with Dulcy and Corin. Then they make their way down the hallway and head towards a door he really does not want to approach.

Davarax pushes the button to signal his presence. He doesn’t want to use the comm system and risk being shut down.

Nothing.

Sighing, Davarax pushes again. He doesn’t have time for this. Every second wasted means that Valentis guy dragging Dulcy farther and farther away and closer to her former husband.

Finally the door slides open and Davarax forces his spine straight. “I need a favour.”

A heavy silence follows before there is a slight shake of a blue helmet as if to reboot his brain before he’s able to speak. “You. You are asking Dez Vizla for a favour?”

Corin and Din exchange looks behind Davarax and he can almost hear what the kids are thinking. Why on earth would he bring Corin to Dez Vizla?

Well, Barthor’s parents would never agree to take him in. Neither would Din’s parents. And while the Saxons would say yes, he’s not entirely sure Corin would survive that. Decco’s illness causes days when she has no energy and might soon end her days all together. The Fighting Corps are constantly on the move and its members have no stability for a child. Dez Vizla may be an uptight and pompous jerk who likes to talk about himself in the third person and unfortunately treats his son like an adult instead of a child, but he rarely leaves the Covert, guards his wards with his life and will never turn his back on a Foundling in need. Plus, in his quarters, Corin will also have Paz to look after him day and night. Hopefully the stay won’t be for too long, but at least Corin will be safe and cared for.

“I need you to look after Corin for a bit.” Davarax says, trying to sound calm and confident.

Dez snorts a haughty laugh. “What?” He shakes his head again, still struggling to believe what he’s hearing. “You want… What?”

“Dulcy got snatched by Imps. They took her away.” Davarax explains in a tight voice, trying hard not to upset Corin. “I’m going to get her back.” He switches to Mando’a and hopes Corin doesn’t understand what he’s saying next. ”This is serious, Dez. I need your help. Keep him safe?”

Dez stares at him for a while, entirely still and unreadable, before he finally sighs and takes a step to the side to let Corin enter. “Get inside, boy. Now.”

Corin freezes, panics, and looks up at Davarax. As expected, he responds badly to Dez’ rough personality. Davarax is about to speak but Din beats him to it.

Din gives Corin a light nudge. “I’ll come with you. It’s okay.” He sends Dez a challenging look.

Dez snorts again, amused by the glare, and gives a nod. Fine. Din can come too.

Relieved, Davarax sees the two shuffle into the Vizla quarters and tells himself it won’t be the last time he sees them. He’s going to get Dulcy and then they will all be together again.

Davarax grabs his weapons and as many grenades and explosives as he can before he sets course for the Razor Crest. His heart is still thumping so hard he can almost feel it battering against the inside of his breastplate.

If Macero Valentis is a monster, his brother might be too. What if he has hurt Dulcy? What is she thinking about right now? Does she think Davarax has abandoned her or does she find comfort in the knowledge that he’ll come for her? Is she afraid? She’s tough, no doubt about that, but courage is not the absence of fear. Only a fool would not feel fear at times. And the mere thought of her being afraid burns Davarax’ heart like acid.

Lost in a hurricane of thoughts and emotions, Davarax doesn’t hear the voice calling out his name and is a bit startled when someone grabs him just as he’s about to step outside of the Covert. Snapping his visor over, Davarax is surprised to find Paz there.

“Is it true?” Paz says, breathless and agitated. “Dulcy’s gone? The Imps got her?”

Davarax exhales. “Yeah…” He has to gather himself and appear calm once again, not wanting to worry Paz either. “But I’m going to get her back. Don’t worry. You just make sure Corin is okay.”

Paz gulps for air as his agitation increases. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? No.” Davarax blinks when the boy bolts by him and stalks out of the Covert. “Paz! Paz, get back here.”

Marching towards the Razor Crest, Paz doesn’t slow down. “I’m coming with you!”

Davarax curses and trots after him, trying to persuade him to go back. Paz makes it all the way inside the ship’s cargo hold before Davarax loses his patience and grabs his arm.

“Paz, I don’t have time for this!” Davarax makes Paz’ visor focus on him. “Dulcy is in serious trouble. These Imps are dangerous.”

“I can fight!” Paz snaps back at him, his voice both angry and shaking.

“I know you can fight.” Davarax reassures him, a little impatiently. “But you are not coming with me. Go home, Paz. Look after Corin. And the others. Go!”

“No!” Paz shouts, but his next words are soft and broken. “She has to come back. She has to.” He struggles to keep speaking. “She’s always so nice to me. To all of us.”

“I know…” Davarax whispers. Paz had been abandoned by his birth mother all those years ago and now he is ready to rush into battle and get himself killed to avoid losing Dulcy. The only woman who had cared enough to act like an actual mother to him. “I’m going to get her back, Paz. I promise. But I have to go now.”

“I’m going with you.” Paz repeats in a stubborn reply.

Sighing, Davarax knows more words are pointless. While the helmet hides Paz’ face, he knows the boy well enough to hear in his voice and read from his body language when he’s too determined to be persuaded otherwise. “Go home, Paz.” He tightens his grip on his arm and drags him out of the ship, kicking and screaming.

Paz’ fury is frightful and Davarax is fairly certain if the boy had a weapon; he would have shot Davarax when he lifts the ramp and blocks him out of the ship. He might not forgive Davarax for this, but he will be safe and alive. And that is what Dulcy would want too.

Dulcy…

-You and Corin are safe here, he’d told her.

She had trusted him when he’d said they’d know if there was danger nearby. He’d told her those words because he’d believed them too. He’d failed to take idiocy and dislike towards outsiders into consideration. The idiots hadn’t meant for any harm to come to her, they just didn’t put any effort into the safety of an outsider.

She’s okay. Dulcy has to be okay. Davarax will get to her long before Macero Valentis does. He will. He won’t fail her, or the children, not as long as he breathes. Davarax had given up on having a family of his own beyond what time he was allowed to spend with his treasured troublemakers and he had settled for being a provider for other families instead, but then Dulcy entered his life and everything changed.

Davarax’ hands shake as he starts up the Razor Crest, driven by red hot fury at the ones who had taken Dulcy away and cold dark despair at the thought of her surrounded by enemies.

He’s going to get her back.

Going after the Imp ship is part guessing, part experienced calculations and part luck. There is no way for Davarax to know their exact route or destination as he has no clue where Macero Valentis is currently located, but he knows which routes are most commonly used by Imps ships as he tends to avoid them like the plague and he has contacts to ask along the way.

It feels strange to deliberately enter areas where he is bound to meet Imp ships.

Constant attacks has left the Imp army jumpy so there are a couple of ships who take his presence and him scanning them the wrong way. The Razor Crest has to make a run for it several times and ends up with scorch marks on her hull, but that’s not enough to make Davarax stop.

He can’t.

Eventually Davarax manages to lock on to the one moving against the stream of Imp ships and with single-minded determination as if there is some place it needs to be and as fast as possible. He can’t be sure, but his heart tells him he’s found his prey and Davarax always trusts his instincts.

Unaware of baring his teeth like a furious beast and the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up, Davarax can only register one thought: the hunt has begun.

Food and sleep have become a distant memory on this trip. When did he eat or sleep last? Yesterday? The day before? He can’t remember and Davarax doesn’t care. He simply keeps pushing the Razor Crest and himself to catch up with the Imp ship before it reaches the clutches of Macero Valentis.

Eventually he does catch up with the ship.

Others tend to shake their head at Davarax’ attachment to the Razor Crest, but he knows what she’s capable of and how to us her strengths in ways that his enemies never expect. People underestimate his ship all the time and Davarax hopes they continue to do so – as it makes his victories all the more sweeter and drastically reduces the risk to his life and his ship’s safety.

When the Imp ship slows down, for whatever reason, Davarax goes for it.

Setting loose two decoys with signals meant to impersonate much larger ships than the Razor Crest, Davarax gives a powerful boost with his engine before powering down and hoping the forward momentum will bring him to where he needs to go; the landing dock on the Imp ship’s left flank.

It’s a move he’s only done twice before and he succeeded once, but Davarax decides to risk it.

Dulcy is right there. In that ship. And Macero Valentis is not, or there would have been a second ship to accompany them. There is still time to get her back.

The Razor Crest does not fail him. She slides through the darkness, under the Imp ship’s radar and drowsy attention, their arrogance brought on by them thinking themselves superior in every way can be quite helpful, and once she’s powered back up it only takes the gentlest of nudges to make her move up to where she can latch on to one of the boarding docks.

Davarax is on his feet before the attachment to the other ship is deemed secure by the Razor Crest’s sensors. Three blasters and an unseemly amount of explosives join his arsenal hidden in his armour.

It’s time to put all of his concern and anger into his weapons.

He goes for stealth at first. He needs to know where they are keeping Dulcy. And while Davarax knows he’s a skilled fighter, he’s just one man and this ship is crawling with soldiers. He needs to be clever about this and not let his anger rule him.

He’s told Din countless times to control his anger instead of letting his anger control him, and this is one of those situations where that could be the deciding factor of the outcome of the mission.

A drowsing guard is yanked around a corner and asked for information, but the guy isn’t much help and is left hidden inside a service closet. He is soon joined by two more.

It’s the fourth guard that finally gives Davarax the answers he is looking for.

Dulsissia Valentis is indeed on this ship. They are keeping Dulcy two levels below this one, in the last cell on the left side of the prison corridor. And there are plenty of guards.

There is no way he can get to her without being detected.

Davarax lets the guard fall to the floor and draws his blasters. Controlling your anger also means to know when it is time to let it loose.

It’s time.

It kind of becomes a red haze after that. Davarax makes his way through the soldiers and guards, using blasters and grenades and his flame thrower to remove them from his path, and every step brings him closer to Dulcy.

Nothing will stop him.

Nothing.

He plants several bombs in strategic places, aiming to injure the ship’s engines and computers as well as draw attention away from himself. Once that is in place, Davarax moves towards the door leading below and gets ready.

Davarax triggers the first two bombs. The ship shakes and groans and he heads below to face the minor army placed there to guard their precious cargo.

The first Trooper he sees standing there spins around at the sound of him and freezes with surprise.

Davarax fires his blaster and moves on to take down the next before the body has hit the floor. He triggers more bombs.

The ship’s siren starts blaring. It howls its long and loud warnings on all floors.

After that, blaster shots hits Davarax’ armour, shrapnel from enemy grenades and his own stabs at him, fists and bots do their best to hurt him, even a blade or two slices through his jacket, yet he keeps moving forward. He won’t stop unless he’s dead.

A well placed grenade takes out the light on the entire level, but instead of darkness his HUD has to adjust to the backup-lights flickering on and off as it appears the electrical system itself has taken damage.

Endless amounts of guards try to stop him. All of them visibly confused as they were under the impression that they are being invaded by a large group of enemies and all they see is one Mando. They soon are too dead to appreciate the lesson Davarax is teaching them: do not mess with a Mandalorian’s family.

Davarax removes a couple of soldiers trying to kill him with a well-aimed grenade and he turns a corner to see what he’s been looking for; the prison corridor.

“He’s here!” Someone shouts in the distance.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” A voice snaps. “Don’t just stand there! Stop him!”

More soldiers rush forward to protect the owner of the voice.

Davarax removes obstacle (soldier) after obstacle (more soldiers), ignoring everything except his mission. He’s so lost in his anger and battle-haze that he’s not prepared for when he suddenly sees her there. Barely visible through the smoke and blaster shots sent his way, there is no mistaking her.

Dulcy.

Some obnoxious Imp officer is standing next to her, his one hand grabbing her arm and the other holding a blaster muzzle to her head. The officer looks scared. She does not. Her eyes are wide with surprise, yes, but her mouth softens into the faintest of smiles. Her hair is almost as wild as Raga’s and for some weird reason she’s wearing a fancy teal dress that probably costs more than the Razor Crest.

It would have eased Davarax’ anger, soothed the fire inside him, quenched his thirst for blood, seeing her standing there… if not for the blooming bruise on her face. There is a startling discolouring of the delicate cheekbone he’d trailed light fingertips over in a wordless display of love not too long ago...

Unbridled rage explodes inside Davarax. He’s going to rip Vecon Valentis apart!

Completely indifferent to the shots fired at him, Davarax merely keeps stalking towards Dulcy and the soon-to-be-dead-Imp, killing anyone who gets in his way. He’s so angry he can barely breathe. How dare they hurt her?!

A trooper jumps out of room next to him, blaster raised, but Davarax slams his elbow into the helmet so hard it shatters. He then pulls out a vibro-blades and throws it through the air and takes down the one guard left standing next to Dulcy and the Imp officer.

The red lights are still flashing, sirens are blaring, there is thick smoke in the air, and Davarax is finally standing in front of Dulcy and Vecon Valentis. The Imp now looks downright terrified.

“Don’t, Mando.” Vecon warns. “I will shoot.”

“Not if he kills you first, Vecon.” Dulcy says. She’s keeping her gaze locked on Davarax, unfazed by Vecon’s threat and the pain of her bruised face. His brave Dulcy. His heart. His light.

Not bothering to even look at Vecon, Davarax grabs the man’s hand holding on to the blaster and squeezes and twists it until he drops the weapon with a pained yelp. He’s mesmerized by Dulcy’s complete lack of fear and solid faith in him. She even uses the moment Davarax disarms her captor to break free and spin around to stand next to Davarax instead.

“Tell Macero I’m never going back. He will never see his son again. And to leave me alone. And if he comes after me or my family again, I won’t ask nicely to be left alone. I will kill him.”

‘My family’. She said ‘my family’. It might be wishful thinking from Davarax’ side, but her choosing those words instead of just saying ‘me or my son’, it almost sounds like she means… him and the children? The anger deflates as wild hope floods Davarax instead and he glances over at the amazing woman next to him.

Dulcy is glaring at Vecon, who is bending over into an awkwardly twisted position due to the grip Davarax has on him, and she looks magnificent; beauty and fury. And there is no hesitation or trace of softness in her threat. She means it, she will kill Macero, and Davarax loves her even more.

“Tell him yourself.” Vecon sneers.

Davarax is distracted, entirely focused on Dulcy, and he pays the price. The Imp moves and a sharp pain follows as he drives a blade into Davarax’ side. Grunting, Davarax reacts instinctively; he draws his blaster and shoots.

Vecon Valentis is dead.

Dulcy doesn’t care. She seems indifferent to the man being killed and her being deprived of the chance to do it herself as payback for her bruised face. All she focuses on is getting to where the blade is planted deep in Davarax’ body. “Oh. Oh no. What-”

They have to leave. Now. The blade hasn’t done lethal damage but Davarax knows he won’t be able to fight for too long with this kind of injury. Blood-loss will weaken him. He yanks the blade out and grabs her arm to redirect her frightened gaze to his t-visor. “We have to go.”

She nods, a little stunned but ready to get out of there. Good.

Picking up Valentis’ blaster, he hands it to her. “I need you to cover my back, Dulcy. Can you do that?” Blood is seeping through his underarmor and a burning pain is spreading. No time to deal with it as more guards are on their way for sure. He needs her help if they are going to make it.

She nods again. Worried, pale, but determined. She’s got his back. Just like he knew she would.

He loves her so much.

Together, they move, battle and make it back to the Razor Crest.

Stumbling into the cockpit and over to sit down in the pilot seat, Davarax brings the engines online and detaches them from the Imp ship as quick as possible. The bombs he’d set off earlier was to confuse the troops onboard and Davarax hopes they have caused enough damage to the engines for him and Dulcy to make their escape.

The Razor Crest does a slow turn, rolling over, Dulcy buckles herself into her seat, and with a strained shake of her entire hull; the Razor Crest gives a mighty kick and races off into the darkness.

-Run, Davarax pleads the ship. -Run as fast as you can, old girl. If that beast recovers enough to come after us, we’re all dead. So I need you to run with everything you got. Run!

And, again maybe it is his wishful thinking, Davarax swears he feels the ship give an extra burst and her speed increases even more as they race towards safety.

Only after forty three minutes and seventeen seconds of pushing the engines to the limit of what they can take, plus non-stop checking the radar to see if someone has decided to chase them and finding nothing, only then does Davarax dare to ease up and let the Razor Crest slow down while he leans back and exhales.

Adrenaline and stress leaves his body while exhaustion moves in.

This is also when Dulcy unbuckles herself and appears by his side to with an anxious expression on her beautiful face and her hands hovering a little undecidedly over his torso as if she can’t decide where to touch.

Her own bruised face appears forgotten to her. Davarax feels how guilt viciously collides with the relief of having her back. He reaches out, pulls Dulcy close and hugs her tight. “Are you okay?” Her bruised face is bad enough, more than bad enough, but what if… He will never forgive himself if...

“Yes, but you’re not.” Dulcy replies, too relaxed to be lying and she tries to push him away. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt, Davarax. I have to-”

Feeling her in his arms, alive and warm and there and forgiving him his failure, Davarax couldn’t care less about his own injuries. He can’t even feel them. All he can feel is her. All he cares about is her. The thought of letting her go after nearly losing her forever hurts. “In a moment.” Davarax’ throat is snared up so tight he has to whisper. “Please.”

And his heart shatters entirely when this incredible woman shivers, once, then wraps her arms around him and hugs him back. Davarax eases her over to sit on his lap where she curls as close to him as she can manage and he holds her as close as he dares.

He’d nearly lost her. This fact will haunt him for the rest of his life; a life he cannot imagine without her. She brought him out of his half-existence, comforted his children when he was unable to and Davarax had started to wake up in the mornings with hope instead of guilt and weariness.

Despite the ordeal she has been through, Dulsissia ignores her own hurt and says that they need to tell the Covert Macero will come for them so they can flee, but Davarax isn’t too worried. They have fought all kinds of governments before and won. He alone had taken on a Destroyer and gotten away with it today, just imagine what his entire Covert could do to a man stupid enough to challenge them.

Dulcy is not convinced, but they compromise and then her focus shifts to his injuries and that is something she will not compromise on. It’s odd to have someone care. Nice, but odd. He’s always tended to his injuries himself.

She fusses about his wounds and notes how Vecon held the blade all wrong to do fatal damage. His girl knows how to stab someone properly. His heart glows with pride.

Dulcy refuses to use the cauterizer and tries to order him out of the pilot seat. As much as he loves her authoritative voice, Davarax declines. He needs to keep an eye on the radar, just in case.

Another compromise is made and she ends up sitting on his lap while tending to his injuries.

It’s no big surprise when she asks about her son.

“Scared out of his mind that he’ll never see his mother again.” Davarax sighs, running his hand along her arm in an absent-minded caress. “When we get closer to Nevarro, I’ll try to reach him.”

“And the rest of the kids?”

That actually makes Davarax laugh a little “I had to physically wrestle Paz off the ship when he heard I was going. If he had a blaster, he would have shot me.” His hand rounds her shoulder and moves up her neck to cup the side of her face. “They’ve all been desperate to get you back. Like me.” It feels almost too good that she’s back. He did it. She’s here. He didn’t fail her again.

“I’m sorry.” Dulsissia mumbles, gently patting down the edges of a bacta patch on his stab wound. “I didn’t see him before it was too late. And then I just wanted them away from all of you.”

“Hey.” Davarax takes a gentle but firm grip on her wrist, halting her movement, making her look at his visor. “This was not your fault. This was all them. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Dulsissia doesn’t look convinced. “Maybe not. But the fact remains that without me stumbling into your life, you wouldn’t be bleeding right now.”

“Without me barging into yours, I wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s true.” Davarax replies, gently caressing her wrist. “I wouldn’t be with you. My days wouldn’t bring happy memories instead of feeling guilty all the time. I wouldn’t come home to my kids smiling instead of crying, hiding away while being terrified for their lives or without a voice because they have been screaming themselves hoarse.” His hand moves up to brush the back of his fingers across her bruised cheekbone, feeling the guilt gnaw at him again. “That’s worth more than bleeding for, cyare. That’s worth dying for.”

Closing her eyes, Dulsissia takes a hold of his hand and moves it down to press her lips to it. “Other than the love I felt for my son, I didn’t know what love was until I met you.” She shivers. “Don’t talk about dying because it feels like tempting fate and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Then, maybe, if you feel like that, would you…” Davarax says, tensing up a little. He had asked her to marry him and she had said no. It’s just… He wants them to be together, forever, so badly. He wants to be able to take his helmet off in front of her. He wants to kiss her lips and feel her hands on his face. He wants her to see his smile and how happy she makes him. He wants… What he wants doesn’t matter. As tempting as it is to ask her to at least reconsider, he won’t. He had asked and she had said no. Davarax is going to have to respect that.

Dulcy kissing his hand snaps him out of his thoughts just before she asks; “Would I what?”

Davarax exhales and lets go off his dream. He then tilts his head and tries to divert the conversation. “Would you let me compliment you on the dress? It’s lovely. And really brings out the colour of your eyes.” Vecon Valentis might have been a jerk, but looks to have had a sense of fashion.

Laughing, Dulsissia shakes her head and goes back to focus on cleaning and bandaging him up. “Thank you. I kind of like it myself. Impractical, but pretty. I was thinking about keeping it.”

“I think you should.” Davarax drawls, toying with the thin shoulder strap to distract himself as well. “Definitely.”

When Davarax finally manages to contact the children over the comm system, it’s both a relief and painful torture. Relief in that Corin gets to talk to his mother, hear her voice and know she is safe, same with the other children, but Davarax is also tortured by guilt upon hearing their distress and knowing he is to blame. He had said Dulcy was safe and she had been ripped away from them.

His heart aches the most, however, when Dulcy, his sweet Dulcy, makes sure she hears the voice of every child to reassure them all, like the amazing mother she is. It makes him want to collect every neglected child in Galaxy and bring them to her so they can feel happy again too.

In the five hours it takes for them to return to Nevarro, Davarax persuades Dulcy to return to his lap and merely drowse in his arms until they land. It feels so good to hold her. He will happily share her with the children when they get back home, but for these hours, knowing everyone is safe, he will allow himself to be selfish and savour every second where it is just the two of them.

Stepping inside the Covert, Corin is in his mother’s arms before the door has closed behind them. The boy is clinging to his mother with desperate determination, eyes squeezed tight and his entire frame shaking. Dulcy is struggling to keep from crying and she’s stroking and kissing his dark hair, his cheeks and his forehead. It’s the kind of open affection that Davarax can only dream about...

Which means he is not prepared for Din running over to wrap his arms around his waist and burying his face to his stomach with a half-choked sound. His grip is frightfully strong. Surprised and humbled by the rare display of affection, Davarax runs a gentle hand over Din’s hair. While Din has eagerly soaked up every hug and encouraging pat Davarax has given him, this is the first time he has initiated a hug. It almost feels like Din had been equally scared of losing him as Corin had been about losing his mother. That… It’s…

Glancing over at Dulcy, trying to blink away the fog that appears to be assaulting his eyes, Davarax sees Raga and Barthor have joined Corin in her embrace. It seems wrong that Din should have to settle for him so he gently ushers the boy over to Dulcy as well and loves her even more at how quickly and naturally she includes Din with the others.

It would be perfect if only… Davarax’ heart sinks as he sees Paz standing there alone, arms crossed, older than his years. He’s not been the same since the battle at the new Covert. It’s a part of growing up as a Mandalorian, but it still hurts to witness. Yet another thing he can’t protect them from.

Lost in thought, Davarax is then again not prepared as Dulcy unleashes Corin, Raga and Barthor in his direction and they all throw themselves at him with gusto. Davarax grunts at the impact when Raga actually jumps at his chest, Barthor smacks into his left hip and Corin to his right, Din’s arms goes back around his waist, all of them grabbing a hold and hugging him. Din laughs while Davarax staggers a step backwards and tries to pet each head, support Raga to prevent the little space-monkey from falling and not dislodge any one of them at the same time.

Dulcy walks over to stand in front of Paz. “No hug?”

“Kids first.” Is the stern reply.

She simply pulls him close, hugs him even closer and whispers something. Something that has Paz relax and hug her back. That woman must surely be a Jedi witch…

But Davarax doesn’t get to linger on the sight or speculate on her magical powers as he’s quickly distracted by Raga climbing up to perch on his shoulder and he has to support her with one hand while Corin decides to hang off his other arm, using him like a swing like he’d done during their initial meeting back on that smoke-covered planet. Din actually laughs.

“Maybe we can head inside?” Davarax asks, his voice a little strained under the children enthusiastically mistaking him for a playground.

Dulcy looks over at them and smiles like the angel she is. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walk towards Dulcy and Corin’s room. She reminds him of the need to warn the Covert about the danger of Macero Valentis, but Davarax is in no hurry to see his sister just yet. And Davarax does not believe for one second that Valentis could be a threat to the Covert. If the foolish man was to try to attack, they would eat him alive.

Inside the room there is a whirlwind of exchange of information. Dulcy is as curious about how Davarax had been able to find her as the children are about what had happened to her. Corin gently touches the bruise on his mother’s face with agonized tenderness.

“It still sucks that Davarax had to go alone.” Raga states angrily. “He even had to defy ‘her’ to do it!”

Startled, Davarax doesn’t want Dulcy to know he’d raised his voice to his sister. “It’s late.” He states, stealing their attention away from Raga’s words. “You kids should head home.”

There is nothing but disappointed faces among the children, but there is one who looks downright… depressed. “Can…” Din clears his throat, shifts his position awkwardly. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Corin nods. “He has bad dreams, mom. He dreamt the droids got you.”

Davarax’ heart clenches. He knows how tormented Din has been by the memory of how his birth parents had perished. He’s seen the raw fear in him whenever the boy sees an android. And when Dulcy sends him a pleading look, Davarax isn’t difficult to persuade. Sighing, he nods and starts to contact Din’s Mandalorian parents via his vambrace. “I’ll ask them” And they will say yes. He won’t settle for anything else. The boy needs a little cheering up after all this.

That triggers a landslide of requests to stay as well. Davarax adores those kids for how Raga meekly promises to behave and Paz finally reverting to his real age by demanding to stay if she gets to stay, yet Barthor’s quiet resignation awakens the anger in Davarax.

“My mom will never let me sleep over.” Barthor scoffs with bitter conviction.

Davarax feels his eyes narrow. “Want to bet?” Barthor is one of his kids. If Barthor wants to join the sleep-over, then Barthor will sleep over as well. He is just about to press the final button to contact Din’s parents when his beloved witch strikes again.

“How about… we all spend the night in Davarax’ room?”

Davarax’ face snaps up to stare at her. She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d slapped him across his bare face with a fish. “Say what now?” Nobody said anything about them sleeping over in his room, with explosives in every corner and the memory of Dulcy’s soft whimpers in his bed.

Din lights up with utter delight. “Oh, can we?”

Davarax clenches his jaw, Dulcy gives him the sweetest smile of fake innocence, and he folds with a heavy sigh. As if he can deny her or these kids anything. “Just… let me talk to your parents first.”

As expected, Din’s parents give their permission without much trouble. They trust Davarax.

Davarax fears he suffers permanent hearing damage after connecting with the Saxons and quickly blurts out his question.

There is a moment of silence before Raga’s mother states: “Anything she breaks, I’m not paying for it.”

“It’ll be on me.” Davarax replies, and then she starts screaming at either her husband or her sons and he just shouts his goodbye and disconnects.

Dez is a problem because of course he is. That man thrives on being difficult, especially around Davarax. If Davarax states something obvious, Dez will disagree just because he said it.

“A sleep over? Are you kidding me? My boy has put on the helmet. He doesn’t do kid stuff like that. I will not have you make my son soft, Davarax.”

“Dez…” Davarax has to take a deep breath and not lose his temper. “It’s a sleep-over. All his friends will be here. Don’t be such a hard-ass. Let the boy have some fun.”

“We are Mandalorians. We don’t do fun. Fun doesn’t make you into a great warrior.”

“A little fun never harmed a kid. He’s a kid, Dez. Helmet or not, he’s still a kid. Let him have this.”

“He should be training.”

“He is training. Every day. That boy is dedicated and you know it. He’s among the best fighters I’ve ever seen. Let. Him. Have. This.”

They bicker back and forth for a while and eventually Davarax manages to wear down the cantankerous man by a combination of nagging and bribery. It’s worth it when he can give Paz the thumbs up to show he’s allowed to stay as well.

And yet Dez Vizla is nowhere near as frustrating as Barthor’s parents. There is no room for negotiations, no compassion or empathy, just a stubborn ‘no’. Davarax tries everything. He flatters, he tries to bride, he tries to reason with them, he even gets dangerously close to pleading, but it doesn’t work. They won’t budge. They will not allow their son to have one simple sleep-over.

And that is when Davarax turns mean. Dangerously mean.

Thirty seconds later, he can give a very surprised Barthor a thumbs up.

That is how they end up gathering all there is off mattresses and blankets and pillows and march over to Davarax’ room. After hoarding and hiding away his weaponry, Davarax helps to arrange their haul all so his kids can be comfortable before he steps up next to Dulcy. “The kids are set. You take the bed. I’ll, uh…” He scouts for where he can fit on the floor, have a good view of the door in case of danger and be close enough to the kids to keep an eye on them as well.

“You and me are sharing the bed.” Dulcy states, as if it is the most natural thing in the world and her words doesn’t hit him in the gut like she’d fired a slugthrower. “The bed is for old people. Like us.”

“I said I was sorry.” Barthor groans. “Let it go.”

“Never.” Dulcy snaps, then she sends Davarax, who can’t stop staring at her, a puzzled look. “What?”

What? She’d just said they would share a bed, a bed with sinful memories, with the kids in the room and she’s asking him ‘what’?? Davarax shakes his head and looks over at the kids again to calm his stuttering heart. She can’t be that oblivious, can she? Well, he can handle this. He can-

“And would you mind taking the armour off?” Dulcy continues to torture him. “You can, inside the Covert, right?”

Closing his eyes, wondering what he’d done wrong to deserve this sweet punishment, Davarax manages a tiny nod.

He handles it like a champ. Davarax removes his armour, settles himself on the bed closest to the door to keep an eye on it and the children to ensure they are safe. Din often has nightmares and might need calming down, though he currently looks quite comfortable between Corin and Paz. Davarax got this. He can handle this.

Dulcy curls up next to him and rests her head on his chest.

He… He’s got… got this…

After a while, Dulcy lets out a soft laugh. “You’re going to have to breathe eventually, you know.”

“No.” Davarax declares. She’s too close and too tempting for him to dare to breathe.

Dulcy giggles and that catches Corin’s attention. He pops his head up and asks what is so funny. If only he knew. Of course Davarax’ evil witch isn’t content with tormenting him solely by being this close to him. Oh no. She hoists herself up on her side and places her hand on his stomach. Her fingers dig gently into the fabric of his shirt and making it slide across his skin in a deliberate caress. “Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep”

Oh. Oh, this means war. Davarax reaches down and grabs a good handful of that divine behind of hers. He grins and savours her strangled squeak like the finest battle trophy.

Corin’s head pops up again. “Mom?”

“It’s fine, Corin.” Dulsissia takes revenge by prodding two fingers next to one of Davarax’ wounds

He jolts with a muffled grunt. Oh, she is really pushing her luck right now...

Corin’s head goes down again.

Davarax’ takes a firmer grip on her behind, hitching her abruptly closer, so she places a hand to an unharmed area on his chest to push herself away. Davarax counters by using his other hand to grab the one she has to his chest and removing it before pulling her even closer. She squirms to free herself while they both struggle to muffle their laughter. Davarax can’t believe this is happening. He wasn’t this childish even when he was a child.

Paz’ helmet comes up and he lets out a very annoyed; “SHHH!”

Davarax and Dulsissia both withdraw their hands amidst quiet laughter.

“Sorry.” Dulsissia stutters through choked giggles.

“Yeah, sorry.” Davarax adds, struggling hard to silence his own snickering.

Grunting, still very much annoyed, Paz lies back down again.

As the laughter calms and a warm peace settles in instead, Dulsissia finds Davarax’ hand. She takes it, lifts it up to hold it between their chests, and smiles as their fingers begin their slow, pointless dance of just touching and braiding and feeling like they had done that very special night.

Looking at her face, seeing the warm affection in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks and the trust in her features, Davarax considers just how lucky he is. How the smallest change in the past might have lead both him and Dulcy on very different paths. How he could have never known the happiness he’s feeling now.

Coincidence or fate, he doesn’t care, it had brought him and Dulcy together and nothing is ever going to tear them apart.

Not his sister.

Not Macero Valentis.

Not even a nightmare of a mercenary who specializes in collecting trophies...

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if au #Davarax #Dulsissia #Corin Valentis #Din Djarin #Paz Vizsla #Raga Saxon #Barthor #Fearsome Five #cacodaemonia is an art deity #I HAVE SO MANY FEELS OVER THIS IMAGE

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tsukishumai · 4 years ago

Note

too lazy to do 🍰 anon right now lol, but heLlo!! I’m 🍰 anon!! you can continue to call me 🍰(cake) Or Rue!! But to answer your question I was specifically looking for you to do tsukishima!

- 🍰

Hello!! Omg Rue is such a pretty name🥺🥺 ahh I hope you didn’t think I forgot about you! Sorry this took so long, work has been slaying me this week 😭

Hope you like this! (and between u&me I’m so glad u picked tsukki I love him sm)

Tsukishima hates it when you pull his headphones off to try to get his attention. The first time you did it, he almost punched you. Even five year olds know not to touch other people’s things?

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Minor Angst to tooth rotting fluff

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tsukishima was tapping away almost furiously on his keyboard, bopping his head along to the music flowing from his over-ear black headphones. It was a fairly new pair – a Bluetooth one that you’d gotten him for his birthday. He had the volume maxed out, slightly impressed by the sound quality; he knows this habit of his was bad for his ears, but he’s had a stressful day. He was so close to getting this last part of his paper done, and the familiar rhythm of his favorite songs were helping him stay focused.

He sat up a little, straightening his back and attempting to roll away the tension in his shoulders from being hunched over for two hours. He moved his head side to side, cringing a little at the resounding ‘crrrkkk’ of his neck cracking. He could feel a slight burn in the back of his eyes, taking off his glasses and attempting to rub it away with the face of his palm.

Tsukishima hated to admit it, but he was feeling burnt out these days. What with the extra practices and the increasing amount of school work, the blonde boy was stretched extremely thin. He didn’t know how the other two idiots on his team could put in that much effort into volleyball – surely their classes had the same curriculum as well?

Oh yeah, Tsukishima remembers, it’s cause they’re failing idiots.

Tsukishima chuckled at his own comment, typing out the last few sentences of his paper, practically slamming his fingers down on his keyboard. He let out a heavy sigh, leaning back on his computer chair and stretching his hands out in front of him. He picked up the cup of coffee that was nearly forgotten at his desk, taking a large gulp and cringing a little at the lukewarm temperature.

That’s that, he thought, glancing at the textbook mocking him from his bag and running a tired hand through his hair, what were the chapters we needed to read for English again?

He was flipping through the pages of his planner when suddenly, the thumping sound of his music disappeared. It took him a second to register a pair of hands plucking his headphones off his ears.

“Tsukishima Kei!”

He swiveled his chair around, tired eyes finally landing on your figure standing in the middle of his room, headphones still blaring music dangling from your hand. You waved a little and gave him a sheepish smile, one that Tsukishima would have found cute if not for the abysmally bad mood he had been in prior to your arrival. Normally, he would have stood up and given you a kiss by now, but all he could feel was irritation brewing in his chest.

“What the fuck?” He bit out, reaching out to grab the headphones back from your grip. Your brows shot up in surprise, looking slightly taken aback by his aggressiveness. “How many times have I told you not to do that??”

“I’ve been calling your name – “

“So you just snatch my headphones off my head like some monkey?” Tsukishima stood up quickly, his towering figure causing you to take a step back, “Any idiot can see that I’m in the middle of doing something. Do you even know how rude that is, or are you just that dumb? Even a fucking five year old knows not to touch other people’s shit!”

The tension in his shoulders melted away with every foul word that tumbled out of his mouth. Your face quickly shifted from surprised to calm; your eyes darted around his room, noting the pile of dirty clothes in his hamper, the crumpled protein bar wrappers littering the floor, and the mountain of paperwork scattering his desk. Tsukishima could feel himself shrinking under your probing gaze, sitting back down and looking away as the irritation in his chest transformed to a guilt that sank to his stomach.

You huffed a little and crossed your arms. “Are you done?”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at you, before begrudgingly answering with a soft, “Yeah.”

“That’s not how we talk to people, Kei,” You began your lecture, pushing passed him and setting down a brown paper bag he hadn’t noticed you holding on the desk, “You said you were going to work on that. See, that’s how I know you’ve been working for too long! Your sodium levels are through the roof, you salty asshole. But don’t worry,”

He stayed silent as you emptied the contents of the paper bag, watching you take out napkins, utensils, and finally, a clear plastic container containing one perfect slice of strawberry shortcake.

“I brought you something sweet to make up for it!”

His little heart grew three sizes in that moment. You always were really good at making him feel like an asshole.

He smiled at the little squeal that came out of your mouth when he pulled you down onto his lap. You giggled as he placed quick little butterfly kisses along your neck and jaw, tightening his hold around your waist. You placed a hand on his chest, lightly pushing him off.

“Alright jerk, let’s eat this damn cake already,” you say, opening the plastic container and grabbing a fork.

“Feed me,” Tsukishima mumbled, returning your surprised look with an expectant one.

“Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me,” Tsukishima said, opening his mouth for added effect. You roll your eyes, if only to hide the rising heat in your cheeks, cutting off a piece and feeding it to the waiting Tsukishima. He closed his eyes in satisfaction, and you were only able to admire the view for two seconds before Tsukishima placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you down for short, soft kiss.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you,” he said, nuzzling his face on your neck. “And for being a dick about it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck tightly. “I’m sorry, too. I won’t grab your headphones like that again.”

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei angst #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei imagines #tsukishima kei scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #hq #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x you

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chefdoeuvre · 4 years ago

Text

Under Control

Kelly Severide

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Sister!Reader

Description: Even when you think you have things under control older brothers always worm their way into helping.

Words: 1,595

Requested: yes by @ticklepete; Okay so can you do a Kelly x Sister where y/n is being seriously threatened by someone who she had a run-in with in the past (like an arsonist or former victim, etc) and of course Kelly's overprotective brother side kicks in. Her being the independent woman she is gets a little annoyed but ultimately is thankful. I feel like #46 and #12 would work with this.

Warnings: mention of minor injuries, blood, fluff as per usual.

A/N: I just love Kelly Severide and his overprotective ways. This can be counted as a stand alone or a part two for Rivalry. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

There they were again, flowers sent to the firehouse addressed to you. At first, you thought it was sweet how you had a secret admirer. Now after a month and a half of this you were starting to be fed up with it. Of course, you couldn't throw the flowers away they were too pretty for that, clearly, someone had spent a solid chunk of change to get them for you. Obviously, Kelly offered to tell Jay and get him to find out who they were coming from but being the stubborn Severide you are you declined.

The next shift came by in the blink of an eye and this time instead of a large bouquet of fresh flowers you were simply handed an envelope. The envelope didn't have a return address on it only the firehouse's and your name printed on it. You stuffed the envelope into your locker when the announcement system went off signaling a call. The call was a fairly normal rescue. Thankfully, there was a simple solution to saving the victim and it didn't take long to get them to safety.

After heading back to the firehouse you went back to your locker and pulled out the envelope that's been invading your thoughts since you got it. Ripping it open you unfolded the single piece of paper in it and let your eyes scan the words. Reading over them multiple times you felt a pit in your stomach. It was clear to see that they were threats aimed at you. This only confused you, if this wasn't some secret admirer who the hell was this? The words were generic threats you'd expect from a regular old crime show so that's not what scared you. It was the fact that they went through these lengths just to get your attention. Instead of doing what a rational person would do you stuffed the envelope back into your locker and tried to get your mind off of it.

Making your way out of the locker room you bumped face-first into a hard chest. Immediately two arms reached out and grabbed onto your shoulders to steady you. Looking up with wide eyes you're met with the familiar steel blue ones of your brother.

"Hey, you all right?" Kelly asked as he scanned your facial expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You nodded quickly.

You tried to sidestep away from him, but his strong arms kept you planted there. Given the fact that he's your brother, he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew what you were like when something was bothering you.

"No, you're not. Talk to me." Kelly urged as you all but looked him in the eyes.

Sighing you shoved his hands off your shoulder and turned on your heel assuring him that you were fine. In truth, you were far from fine but you'd deal with it your own way. Which was being majorly stubborn about it and completely ignoring the fact that you weren't okay. You made your way into the common room and took a seat in between Herrmann and Mouch who were watching an old movie.

Kelly, being the nosy brother he is took it upon himself to check out your locker. Granted he only knew your combination because it was your birthday and as your brother of course he knew you would use that as the passcode for your phone as well. Pulling open your locker the envelope fell out and he quickly pulled it open. Reading the words across the page he suddenly felt the urge to punch someone.

Soon enough, the announcement system went off signaling a call. Apparently, it was a large abandoned warehouse on fire which meant all of Firehouse 51's help was enlisted.

Pulling up to the scene Boden started giving out directions to each unit. Squad was taking the brunt of the work by checking the building along with some of Truck's help. You and Kelly were paired up to go the furthest into the building, biting back a joke about the sibling power duo the two of you were you headed into the burning building. Kelly stood close beside you with a clenched jaw, still angered by the threats aimed at you.

"We're clear on the West wing." Cruz's voice sounded from your walkies.

"Same on the East." Stella agreed.

"All good on the North wing. South?" Casey asked.

You and Kelly were still making your way through the building about to reply when you heard a shrill scream. Looking up in alarm, the two of you shared a glance before setting toward the sound.

Taking the lead you made your way weaving through the crates to where the sound came from. Another high-pitched sound shocked you into place before you started toward the louder noise again.

"I've been waiting for you." A deep, gravelly voice sounded from behind a large crate.

"We have to go, this place isn't gonna last long." Kelly chided looking between you and the wooden crate.

"That doesn't seem to be in my agenda, Lieutenant Severide." The deep voice tutted.

You and Kelly shared a look of confusion. How the hell did this guy know who he was?

"Oh, allow me to introduce myself." The man all but cackled as he stepped out from behind the crate.

In his hands was a familiar-looking bouquet of flowers. He had a devilish smirk planted on his face and dark eyes that made him look demonic.

"It's Charles, but you can call me Chuck." He greeted with a sickly sweet smile and looked dead at you.

Kelly immediately stood to step in front of you and practically growled at the man.

"Cool it, Kell." You shoved your brother aside with a roll of your eyes.

"All right, Charlie was it?" You crossed your arms nonchalantly, "take your flowers and leave or I promise you I'll let the hound at you." You gestured a hand toward your fuming brother.

Of course, you were naturally sassy, but in times of danger, your sass levels would go up by a hundred. Was this the smartest idea to agitate the guy who lit this place up? No, probably not, but your instincts decided otherwise. The man was rendered speechless, to say the least. He was expecting a sobbing woman not a lady who could even out sass Jay Halstead on a good day.

While the man was a blubbering mess Kelly took the initiative to call it into Boden because of course this had to all go down in a burning building. A few moments later you turned on your heel and began dragging Kelly with you.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kelly berated.

"I'd rather get the hell out of dodge before I turn into a crispy treat." You hissed pulling him toward the exit.

Chuck still stood there trying to mutter out a response when he bolted after the two of you. Pushing Kelly ahead of you, you turned around to see Chuck barreling toward you. Grabbing his wrist in a tight grip you all but dragged him out of the building. Just in time the three of you made it out of the building before a huge explosion erupting out of the ceiling.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you caught sight of the Severide sibling's favorite detective and pulled Chuck along with you.

"I think your package was sent to the wrong building." You shoved Chuck forward as Jay pulled the man's arms behind his back and cuffed him.

"Thanks, Y/N." Jay nodded with a smirk adorning his features.

"Anytime, detective." You flashed a quick smile before heading back to your fellow firefighters.

Letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding you ripped your helmet off and dropped it to the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kelly placed his hands on your shoulders before pulling you into his arms.

"Oh, come on. That was totally badass." You chuckled.

Kelly stared at you bugged-eyed, tilting his head in confusion.

"Come here, you big teddy bear." You wrapped your arms around Kelly's waist, hugging him tightly.

Locking your hands behind him you pulled back hissing in pain.

"What? What's wrong?" Kelly scanned you for any injuries.

"Damn bouquet had thorns in it. I'm fine though." You scrunched your brows pulling at the thorns embedded in your palm.

"What do you mean you're 'fine'? You're bleeding!" Kelly exclaimed.

"Dude, they're just thorns." You dismissed.

Kelly pushed you toward Gabby and Sylvie wordlessly as you wiped the little bit of blood escaping your hand.

After getting all cleaned up and heading back to the firehouse you went to find Kelly who was hunched over his desk in his bunk room.

"Thank you." You spoke up leaning against the door frame.

Kelly snapped his head toward the sudden voice.

"What?" Kelly asked with a small smirk.

"I said it once, that's it." You crossed your arms with a pout.

Kelly raised his brows and you let out a defeated sigh, "thank you for being my protective brother, even if I don't need you to be." You stepped forward and placed your hands on his shoulders with a small smile.

"It's in the job description." Kelly reached his hand up to ruffle your hair.

"Seriously, how many times do I have to tell you not to touch my hair?" You laughed, pushing his hand away.

"You're gonna be the death of me, I swear." Kelly rolled his eyes playfully.

#request #fanfiction #imagine #one shot #one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide x you #kelly severide imagines #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide #lieutenant kelly severide

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lottiebagley · 4 years ago

Text

Every lie you ever told- Draco Malfoy

She can't help the grin that sits on her lips as she strolls through the library.

She had entered the room in a foul mood, after a long day and detention with professor Snape she hadn't been in the mood to spend her evening alone working in the library, but her friends had been too busy to accompany her and she really needed to finish the essay she had due in tomorrow.

She would have normally asked Draco. He was the best boyfriend she could ask for. Completely doting on her, anything she ever wanted he was right there with it. He loved her for exactly who she was and she felt the same way. She would do anything for the boy. They had gotten together almost a year prior, having met at a party in the Malfoy manor. She was the year below him so despite knowing of each other and sharing a common room they had never spoken until then.

She hadn't had a chance to find him to ask him to join her and it was pure luck that he was say with Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. She got on well with his friends and knew they wouldn't mind her joining to do her essay. She also knew afterwards Draco would probably take her hand and pull her into a broom closet, complaining she had distracted him whilst he studied with a smirk on his face.

She approaches the table from behind, having recognised the group of fifth year slytherins from behind and was preparing to wrap her arms around her boyfriend and press a loving kiss to his cheek when she heard it.

"Draco, you have to tell her. It will be so much worse if she finds out from anyone else," Blaise was urging. She could feel it in her gut. They were talking about her.

"That won't happen. I've covered my tracks, she'll never know, it's for her own good," Draco states, his tone cold. She knows she shouldn't be listening but she can't bare to walk away now.

"There's no way Parkinson won't tell her, not now she knows," Blaise pesters. So Pansy was a part of this. That made the girls blood burn.

Pansy Parkinson was a sore spot in the couples relationship. She had consistently been rude and hurtful towards the girl at the beginning of her relationship with Draco. The girl has spoken to her boyfriend about it after he found her crying, assured her that Pansy was nothing to him. He shot down the rumour he has dated the Parkinson witch. They had slept together that night, it was the girls first time and Draco had been perfect. It was when she realised she was in love with her boyfriend, not that she told him until two months after.

"She will believe me over Parkinson," Draco shrugs

"Weird considering your relationship is built on lies," Blaise laughs. She isn't sure how to react. She can feel tears prickling her eyes as she watches her boyfriend threaten his friend, she has never been anything but honest with Draco . Had he really lied to her?

"There you are, I've been missing you," he grins as he drops onto the seat in front of his girlfriend, pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaning back in the arm chair. The common room is empty other than them.

"Here I am," she shrugs, not even looking up from the book she's reading. The truth is she's been avoiding him for the past two weeks, not sure how to bring up what she knows. Not sure is she wants to.

"You didn't miss me too," he pouts, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when she shrugs as response. Normally she would giggle and assure him she did, climbing into his lap and whispering to him about her day as he presses kissed to her neck making her blush. Then again normally she wouldn't let days pass without them seeing each other. "Where've you been anyway? You've been MIA for days," he questions

"I've been around. Busy," she shrugs. He can't help the jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Who had she been with? He has found her friends to ask where she was multiple times. Scoured the whole castle and been unable to find the girl he adored.

"Why are you being like this?" He questions. They never fight and it felt wrong to use his cold tone with her and yet here he was. She groans, folding the page of her book and placing it down on the side table next to her armchair.

"Like what?" She questions, he scoffs at that

"You're pulling away, all distant and standoffish," he accuses

"I haven't-"

"Don't insult both our intelligence by denying it," he speaks through gritted teeth.

"Fine. I heard you in the library two weeks ago. Blaise said our relationship was built on lies. What did that mean?" She questions. He looks startled. Like a deer in the headlight. Like a man caught red handed.

"It meant nothing, Zabini is stupid," Draco tests and there's another lie

"Draco tell me the truth,"

"About what?" He questions. She stands up now

"Everything! How much do you lie to me to not know what bit of truth I want?" She demands, pacing now. He groans, throwing his head back

"Fine. I will tell you. But you can't over react," he decides to ignore the scoff she lets out.

"When we first met I was using you," he admits. She could feel her heart breaking. She had always found Draco attractive, and from the moment they spoke she could feel herself falling.

"I had no interest in you. I wanted to make Parkinson jealous so I used you," he continues. "That doesn't change how I feel for you now, I'm so in love with you it's the scariest thing in the world,"

"For how long?"

"Four months," he admits. She feels like her whole world stops.

"Draco, we slept together when we had only been together for three. You slept with me to make Pansy jealous?" She can feel the tears pouring from her eyes. She had been in love and he had been using her. His heart breaks at the sight, breaks at how she flinches away when he moves to comfort her.

"I took it too far, I know I did, I just-"

"Draco I gave you my virginity! You knew that! It meant something to me and you knew that too! I realised I was in love with you that night!" She shouts. His heart breaks. He has fallen for her so hard that Pansy truly never received a second thought anymore but how could he ever make her believe that now.

"Angel, I love you so much, it just took me a bit longer,"

"Everything about us is a lie!"

"No, no, how I feel about you. Everything I've said to you. None of it is a lie!"

"How can I ever believe you?" She questions, it's quiet, he can tell that she wants to believe him but knows how much it would destroy her.

"I don't know," he admits, his heart is broken now "please, just forgive me and put all of this behind us,"

"How can I forgive you? I don't even know what is true anymore,"

"I'll do anything,"

"Write me a list. Write me a list of every lie you ever told me and I'll decide if I can forgive you," she states before turning on her heel and fleeing to her room, sobbing to her best friend.

"Leave her alone Draco," the voice is sharp in his ear. Her best friend had been overly protective over this past 48 hours, not letting Draco anywhere near the girl he believed to be the love of his life.

She looks dishevelled as she sits at breakfast, her friends comforting her. Her hair is messy and her eyes have deep and dark bags under them like she hasn't slept. Her face blotchy from crying. He knows he looks equally broken.

"Just give me a minute, please?" He asks her best friend, he's nervous, knows she doesn't deserve this. Knows he will never be worthy of her and never was.

"No,"

"It's fine," the girl croaks looking up to her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? She's not really sure where they stand anymore.

"Are you okay?" Draco asks as he pushes past her friend to sit next to her on the bench, wanting so badly to touch her, hold her too him but he's too scared to try. Too scared to be shot down.

She shrugs, desperate for him to hold her and makes this all go away but too awkward to ask him too.

"Are you?" She questions

"No. It's my own fault though," he admits "I wrote it. The list I mean," he continues, pulling the envelope from his pocket. "It's every lie I ever told you. I'm truly sorry," he finishes placing the letter in her hand before standing up and walking away.

She doesn't open it until two days later, too scared to see what it says. To have any more precious memories crash and burn around her.

She pulls the envelope open, heart beating out of her chest as she sits on her bed in the empty dorm.

Darling, This is a list of every lie I ever told. Know I regret them all. 1) I never dated Pansy (I did for seven months) 2) that I was originally interested in you (you know that one though) 3) that I wasn't jealous when Zabini kissed your cheek that one time ( I punched him for it) 4) that I hadn't thought of another girl in months when we first slept together (I can't believe I ever stooped so low. I regret it with every fibre of my being. I first realised my feelings for you were becoming genuine that night)

The list goes on, three whole pieces of parchment but by the time she's over the initial bad ones they're almost sweet. That it didn't hurt when she accidentally slapped him. That he hadn't had a nightmare. That he hadn't been utterly distracted by how beautiful she is and accidentally zoned out when she was talking a thousand times. That he wasn't nervous when he met her family for the first time. That he wasn't scared she was going to leave him when she met his.

When she gets to the end she's in tears, every lie he told since the bad ones had been sweet, had been to make her happy. It's then that she realises something, he loved her as much as she loved him he just started a little later.

She knows it'll be hard to work through it but she also knows that for him it's worth it. He lied to her time and time again, but for the most part his lies had been to protect her or to make her happy.

She can't stop her feet moving on their own accord as she jogs down the stairs, pushing through the crowds in the corridor as she approaches the great hall knowing he will be there.

She sees him in the corridor outside the hall, looking as heartbroken as the last time she saw him. Surrounded by his friends. She approaches them and grabs his hand spinning him around.

His eyes widen at the sight of her.

"Draco Malfoy, look me in the eye and tell me honestly. Are you in love with me?" She demands.

"I am. I am completely and utterly in love with you," he admits, slightly confused. She grins before wrapping her arms round his neck and pulling him down, pressing her lips to his in a heated kiss.

He seems shocked but kisses back, pulling her as close as physically possible, taking in everything about her, scared it'll be the last time. They pull apart, panting lightly.

"No more lies," she whispers

"Never again," he grins as she presses her lips to his in a peck. "I don't deserve you," he whispers

"Any boy prepared to go through what you went through to make me happy deserves me Dray," she whispers. He shakes his head at this opening his mouth to protest but she's quick to press her lips to his to stop him.

"You wanna get dinner?" She questions

"Of course," he smiles back, arm wrapping around her waist

"And after we can head to your dorm and make up for lost time," she grins and giggles at his smirk

"Oh we will be doing plenty of that," he can't help the grin as he squeezes her tighter to him. How did he ever get so lucky?

Masterlist

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #Draco #Draco Malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter

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atlas-private · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, how about a scenario with Mama Arc going to visit her son in Beacon, Jaune is happy to see his mother.

Meanwhile the entire Beacon staff is in a panic, because in Ozpin's words, he doesn't want to have to deal with that monster.

(You actually just handed me a way to introduce my version of Mama Arc. For this I thank you.)

---

Pyrrha: Jaune?

Jaune: Yeah?

Pyrrha: Is that woman currently holding the Headmaster in an Armlock your mother?

Jaune: Yup, she did mention something about "Opening a can of whoop ass on the man who threw me into a forest."

Nora: Was she also the one who basically beat the snot out of the faculty members that rushed her when she got off the Bullhead?

Jaune: The very same.

Ren: Why though?

Jaune shrugged.

Jaune: Something about a Bounty on her I guess, she used to tell me about how she used to run a gang after dropping out of Beacon.

Pyrrha: Your mom was a student and has an active bounty on her?

Jaune: I guess, my dad was the one who claimed it after he got her pregnant. Dad says it was a "Enemies to Lovers" type thing. Although my mom says it was because he was better looking and actually worth a fight than her own gang lackeys were, plus he promised that if she beat him he would do anything she wanted. You know, Arc's word?

Ren: That's rather concerning.

Pyrrha: But very interesting.

Nora: What's her name anyways?

Jaune: Oh, it's Lachaira. Grandma said something about it meaning Steel in a different language.

Nora: Cool!

The group continue to watch as Jaune's mom is tackled by a faculty member she had knocked out previously.

Pyrrha: Should we help out?

They watched as the shorter woman shoved the larger man off of her and delivered several rapid punches the man face. The last one proved effective as the hook she sent made the man's head jerk violently before dropping to the ground with a thud.

Nora: It looks like she's winning.

The Headmaster was still in the floor as Lachaira made her way to him, the group thought they heard the man make a plea before she put him into an impressive arm bar.

Ren: I don't think an arm is meant to bend that way.

There a snap that echoed from Ozpin followed by a loud yell. The group winced when they heard it.

Nora: Hey Jaune?

Jaune: Yes Nora?

Nora: Is your mom single?

Jaune, Pyrrha and Ren looked at Nora in confusion and surprise. They then saw Jaune's mom pick up and dust herself off before walking towards them with a small limp, several scratches and a few bruises.

---

Lachaira Arc. Tanned skin and standing at a proud 5'5" with, in Nora's words, a body that looked like she lifted Ursa on a daily and punched boulders for fun. Her black hair was showing the faintest of silver and braided into a low ponytail. Dressed in a simple white shirt that was now dusted with dirt, tucked into a pair of black fitted pants with leather chaps over them and wearing a pair of sturdy black steel toe boots. She had finished using a small towel to wipe the dirt off her face to show the slight tomboyish looking face she had. Of course what struck out the most was the pair of blue eyes that were the same color, if not darker than Jaune's.

Lachaira: So I take it you kiddos enjoyed the show back there?

She grinned and showed off her oddly pointed set of teeth.

Nora: You bet Mama Arc, cool teeth by the way!

Ren: Pardon me for asking, but are you a faunus?

Lachaira chuckled.

Lachaira: Let me guess, was it my perfect skin or alluring curves that gave it away? But yeah, I'm a Faunus.

She narrowed her eyes.

Lachaira: That isn't going to be a problem is it?

Ren raised his hands.

Ren: Not at all, just curious was all.

Nora: What kind are you?

Lachaira raised a brow.

Lachaira: Curious one's aren't ya, well I'm a Honey Badger, besides the teeth I also have the tenacity of one, or at least that what my folks say.

Jaune walked back into he dorm room with a glass of water.

Jaune: Here you go mom, couldn't find any soda so I hope this is okay.

His mom cooed at him and stood up.

Lachaira: Aw, my poor little Knight is worried about his mama.

She grabbed him a bear hug as his team heard the various pops of his spine.

Lachaira: I'm so glad I was able to raise such a sweet boy like you.

Jaune however struggled for breath.

Jaune: Thanks mom... Love you too... Please let go?

She gave a 'oops' and let Jaune go as he greatly sucked in his breath.

Pyrrha: Ma'am if it's okay to ask, why did you beat up our Headmaster?

The Arc Mother shrugged.

Lachaira: I gave my word that I would open a can of whoop ass on the man who threw my son into a forest.

Before Pyrrha could ask she felt Lachaira's hands on her face as she stared deeply into her eyes. The Spartan began to blush slightly as he face drew closer and closer before stopping a few inches.

Lachaira: Huh, you're right kiddo, her eyes would make even Emeralds envious.

Jaune: Mom! I thought you promised you weren't gonna say anything from the letters!

Now the Spartan let out a full blown blush while his mom laughed.

Lachaira: Sorry sweetie by I had my fingers crossed. Now then.

She let go of Pyrrha's face and looked towards Ren and Nora.

Lachaira: Which one is the bubbly bomber and which is the pretty boy?

Nora and Ren only gulped as Jaune covered his face in despair and embarrassment.

---

In the Beacon Medical Ward

Several of the Faculty members now sat with casts and bandages on their bodies. Amongst them was the Headmaster himself in a full body cast now as his sipped at his coffee with a long straw.

The Deputy if Beacon did not looked amused as she read over a file on the very woman who did this

Goodwitch: Lachaira Arc, Honey Badger Faunus. Dropped out of Beacon, former leader of a gang formerly called Oso Heaven, had a bounty placed on her by the kingdom of Atlas, bounty collected by a man named Gregory Greene.

She turned the page and sighed.

Goodwitch: So it was James that had a new bounty placed on her the very day she arrived here, and by your request?

Ozpin stopped sipping and looked at Glynda.

Ozpin: When she was student she was the best of in her year, more than that she was able to single handedly take out three teams of trainees after an altercation involving her Faunus aspects. In her words she stold then, "You're a bunch of fucking pansies that deserve to get dicked down by an Ursa in heat." promptly broke a number of limbs of her opponents and causing an entire team to drop out as well due to the severity of their injuries, without any weapon besides her bare hands and teeth. She then handed in her form for leaving the school, flipped me the bird and took the last Bullhead that was leaving that day.

Glynda: But now?

Ozpin gave a breath.

Ozpin: She seems to be a mother to one our students and was simply here to visit. I was wrong to quickly assume she would cause havoc. No charges will be pressed either as it was our own fault for instigating a retaliation from her.

A man on one of the beds with bandages wrapped around his face spoke.

Steve: I said I was sorry!

Ozpin: Well sorry doesn't fix broken ribs now does it Steve!?

Glynda let out a sigh, silently thankful that she wasn't around for the initial confrontation.

---

July 31, 2021

(Sorry about the late response but Work happened. Anyways here she is Lachaira Arc! I always like the idea of Jaune's mom being some kind of Faunus, it's just skipped a generation, plus I just like a lady that can kick ass one moment but be all sweet the next.

Kinda like Quetzalcoatl from the Fate series.

Anyways, hope this was sufficient enough so have a great day and thanks for the ask!)

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #lie ren #glynda goodwitch #professor ozpin #Lachaira Arc #ask

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laurentspup · 3 years ago

Text

Friends... Is that what we are? (Lamen AU) Part 7.5

Masterlist

Author’s note:

Hey it’s been so long since I updated this! It still takes a lot of me to think of dialogue and edit the messages, so this isn’t new content. It is, however, what really happened in part 7 (when Damen went to Laurent’s house and read him a book, and kissed his forehead). I always thought this was better in paragraphs than soc med format, so here it is. I actually drafted this before part 7 and I finished it now!

I hope you all enjoy this new chapter and I promise I will be back with a new update soon. I just have to get used to driving (just passed my license a month ago), college (it’s my last year), and work (first year in person).

Okay that was a lot, now onto this chapter full of sweetness and pining.

Part 7.5

It’s past midnight, but Laurent still has a big smile on his face since his call with Damen. It has been a few hours after Damen simply talked about his day, about his brother, about the yacht his parents bought because they had too much money and nothing more to spend it on, anything he could think of. Laurent was more than happy to sit there and listen to his voice. He liked the man too much to do anything else about it.

He is currently studying for his upcoming biology exam on Tuesday. It’s not too bad of an exam, but there are endless terms, endless body functions, and he hates that all he can do is memorize everything. It’s not learning but it does result in an A. His phone buzzes beside him, and welcoming any distraction, he picks it up to see a text from Damen. He’s downstairs.

Laurent runs to his window to check if it’s true. Damen, knowing exactly what Laurent does every time he surprises Laurent with a visit, is looking up at him, waving. Damen’s at Laurent’s door. He isn’t supposed to be home yet, back in this city, but here he is, glowing under the porch light, gorgeous in his hoodie, and everything Laurent ever wanted. He’s speaking but Laurent, shaking his head with a look of disbelief, can’t hear him.

“Wait one sec.” He whispers with a gesture and turns around to go downstairs in a hurry. Before opening the door, he fixes his hair and assumes a relaxed position, as if his heart isn’t pounding miles a minute at the prospect of Damen outside his house, at midnight. As if this doesn’t happen almost everyday.

Once he’s face to face with Damen’s kind eyes, with the smile that can only be read as extremely happy to see him, his heart hammers harder in his chest.

“What are you doing here?” Laurent breathlessly asks him with wide eyes, confusion and excitement evident on his face, try as he might to mask it.

Damen is also breathless, though Laurent can’t think of any reason why.

“I missed you.”

It’s a punch to all the right places in Laurent’s heart. It’s something he can never say to Damen out loud, but he feels it all the same, right down to his bones. It’s something he didn’t know Damen had the nerve to say out loud to him.

“I mean-” Damen begins and Laurent’s face twitches. Damen must have caught it because he stops. “I mean yeah. I missed you so I drove back since there’s nothing to do at my parent’s anymore. And I got you this.”

Laurent doesn’t see the Target plastic bag in Damen’s hand until he lifts it.

“It’s from my mom. She insisted I give you a home-cooked meal since she knows you’re mostly alone nowadays. She doesn’t stop hinting at my dad that she wants to go on a European tour too, see Paris- what? Why are you smiling?”

Laurent doesn’t know he’s smiling. He tries to school his expression even though it’s too late.

“Nothing. You’re here. No- it’s just- I don’t know what I’m saying. Come in.” He quickly says the sentences after the other, making Damen laugh and his cheeks flush. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything!” Damen enters behind him, shaking with happiness.

Laurent leads him to the kitchen, so he can put the food in the fridge. It’s too late to eat right now and he has a few more chapters to read.

Damen gives him the plastic bag and sits on the stool by the island. He stares at Laurent as he unpacks the tupperwares, then puts it in the fridge. A comfortable silence surrounds them, but Laurent is too conscious of Damen’s stare. It’s as if he can hear the dangerous somersaults Laurent’s heart was doing.

“You still studying tonight?”

“Yeah. Bio’s kicking my ass.”

“I’ll stay up with you. Nik’s not home yet, anyway. He visited his parents too since he was there already.”

“You don’t have to stay up.”

“No, I want-”

“But you can stay.”

“Well, I’m staying up and you can’t stop me.” Damen is right in front of Laurent's face when he turns to face him. He steps back quickly. “Cool?”

“Do whatever you want.” Laurent replies, heart in his throat, rushing to leave the kitchen and get to his room before Damen sees his face turn dangerously red.

Laurent’s head is bent, back to Damen, busy reading the last chapter for his exam. Nothing is entering his brain anymore, but he has to read all of these at least two times to store it in his brain until his test. He’s been yawning since the third paragraph, and he has a massive headache which began in the previous chapter.

It has been two hours since Laurent started studying and let Damen just be in the background. He would hear Damen’s little laughs, gasps, or groans at whatever game he was playing on his phone. He feels Damen’s gaze on his back, conscious of him being conscious of his every move. It was a normal routine for them at three am, but somehow, today, it was more.

Laurent yawns again. This chapter about the reproductive system is very intriguing, but exasperating. He would rather do it himself than read about it. If only the man currently on his bed knew how much he has been thinking about him and this. He sighs at the idea, then hears Damen shuffle on his bed.

“I think you need to take a break.”

“Be quiet. I’m studying.”

“Take a break, Laurent. You’ve been reading nonstop for two hours. I got so bored I started counting how much you’re yawning. It's thirty-seven by the way.”

“That’s weird. Stop staring at me while I’m studying.”

“But I like looking at you all concentrated.”

Laurent ignores him. “Just shut up. I have five more pages to go.”

Damen stands up and takes Laurent’s book. He holds it up above his head. Laurent rolls his eyes but doesn’t stand up.

“Give it back to me right now.” He crosses his arms like a stubborn child.

“Nope. You can try to grab it though.” The real stubborn child says.

“Just because you’re half a foot taller than me, doesn’t mean I can’t reach it.”

“Bet.”

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Damen.”

“I’m not playing. Take a break.”

“Dude, I wanna sleep too. Just let me finish.”

“Dude?” Damen says, offended. Laurent ignores his tone again. He stares at Damen with eyebrows raised, trying to be intimidating, knowing well that it won’t work on Damen. “Fine. If you go to bed I’ll give it back to you. Even if you look super sleepy.”

“I’m not sleepy.” Just as Laurent finishes the last word, he yawns.

Damen raises his eyebrows at him. “Thirty-eight.”

“Ha ha. Give me back the book.”

“When you go to bed.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

Damen falls back on Laurent’s bed. Maybe if he offered something else, Laurent might say yes. Maybe Laurent is just tired.

“You gotta get this book one way or another.” Damen shrugs.

Laurent stubbornly stays on his chair, staring daggers at Damen. What the hell is his problem? He didn’t ask him to stay up with him, he told him not to!

Laurent watches Damen flip through the book, knowing he hates it because he’s going to lose his spot. Still, he notices how Damen's index finger remains on the page he’s reading. It’s sweet, but Damen still sucks for making him take a break.

“Ugh.” Annoyed, Laurent stands and goes beside his bed. “I’m here. Hand it back.”

“I have an idea.” Damen answers, not looking at him.

“Damen.” Laurent says, getting more aggravated by the second.

“Look, your eyes are so tired right now.”

“You’re not looking at me, and I can’t see my own eyes.”

Damen ignores him. “Did you even sleep last night?”

Laurent flushes when he remembers the reason why he hasn't slept well at all yet. It’s because of this annoying, clueless brute lying on his bed and he doesn’t even know! All the hours he spends pining for him, yet this is all that ever happens to them.

“See? You haven’t.” Damen answers, interpreting Laurent’s expression as guilt and embarrassment. “Lie down right now and close your eyes.”

“Stop telling me what to do. I have to finish studying.”

Laurent can just take the book, but he knows Damen will pull him and force him to lie down. God, if only Damen is going to do that for other reasons, he’d have done it the moment Damen told him to go to bed.

“I’ll read it to you.”

“You’re going to what?” Laurent asks, genuinely taken aback.

“I'm gonna read to you while you rest your eyes. Saves time. You rest while you still learn. It’s a win-win.” Damen looks at him and smiles expectantly.

“That’s stupid, Damen. It’s five pages long. And it won’t go into my brain.” Laurent is exasperated. He’s losing patience. Hell, he doesn’t even know why he’s still keeping up this conversation. He could kick out Damen anytime. This is his house.

“Yes it would. You take in everything you hear fast.” Laurent opens his mouth to spit a vicious remark but Damen talks first. “Just let me help you. Please.”

Laurent closes his eyes, trying so hard, even though he doesn’t know why, to keep calm. He equally hates and loves Damen for making him take a break and for offering to read five pages of the reproductive system. He grits his teeth because he’s going to say yes, and he’s going to hear Damen talk about sex and sex parts without knowing what it will do to Laurent.

“You’re so annoying.” Laurent sits on the bed. Damen scoots to give him space with a wide smile on his face. “Why can’t I say no to you?”

“It’s because secretly you really like me.”

He wants to strangle Damen. He wishes he could shake him and look him in the eye and scream “YES I FUCKING DO. DO YOU LIKE ME BACK, ASSHOLE?” Fuck him. It’s true. It’s so true, but Laurent is never going to admit that… first.

“Just read. Annoying prick.” He mumbles and makes himself comfortable on the bed. He makes sure there’s at least a foot gap between him and the idiot beside him.

“You can come closer. I don't bite.” Damen says, staring at Laurent with that glint in his eye, patting the space next to him.

“So fucking bossy.” Laurent says angrily and still scoots over. He’ll get over feeling Damen’s warmth and not being in his arms instead. “If I sleep, you better wake me up or I'm killing you.”

He huffs as his head hits the soft pillow and his eyes close. It feels good. He thinks he hasn’t closed his eyes to blink in the past hours.

“Can’t kill me if you’re sleeping.” Damen answers with confidence, settling back on the bed. Laurent feels him move until their shoulders touch, despite the purposeful one inch gap that Laurent left so this won’t happen. Now, he’s really annoyed and conflicted. But he doesn’t move away.

“Give me back the book.”

“Kidding!”

“Just start.”

“So fucking bossy.” Damen teases.

Laurent opens his eyes, ready to smack Damen or kick him out or maybe kiss him too, but he opens the book and starts reading loudly. “The penis is part of the male reproductive system. See Damen’s for ref-”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn't say your-” Laurent cuts him off.

“Shh, I’m reading.”

“Read properly, then. And I’m on the top of that page, first paragraph.”

Damen hushes him again. Laurent rolls his eyes but stays quiet. When Damen begins once more, he reads what Laurent told him to. Laurent feels his heart leap at that, desperate to reach out to Damen, put his head on his shoulder and listen from there. But he keeps his hands to himself.

As Damen reads about functions of the reproductive organs, Laurent soaks in his voice and his warmth. Maybe, this isn’t such a bad idea. He can actually focus better. His eyes don’t hurt as much now, and he can picture the words that Damen reads. His deep voice compels him to listen, and it tugs at his heartstrings at the same time. He can’t even fathom how amazing it is to have Damen read a Biology book to him.

This can’t be just a friendly gesture, Laurent’s brain nags at him. But he quickly kicks all thoughts of more because he knows Damen. Damen has probably done this with all of his friends. He’s just a nice guy who brings Laurent food and makes him take a break and reads his book for him, and Laurent just happens to like him. There’s nothing more.

He listens to Damen flip to the next page, and shuts off the part of his brain that continues to pine for the man beside him. He’ll take this right now and he’ll think about the repercussions tomorrow. Right now, he’ll let himself feel the warmth and comfort of Damen. Right now, he’ll listen to Damen’s voice, soothing him like a lullaby.

Laurent opens his eyes. It’s not dark, his lights are left on, and there’s an unfamiliar warmth beside him, something he’s unaccustomed to when he wakes alone. His head is on a harder surface, not on a pillow but-

He shifts his eyes to the left and sees Damen's clothed chest. The chest his head is resting on right now. The chest his head rested on while he slept. The chest that’s steadily falling and rising.

He slept and somehow, he ended up on Damen’s chest. He asked to be woken up if he slept, but he should have never trusted Damen.

Damen, annoying, clueless Damen, whose clothed chest is under his head right now.

He wants to move away, badly, but also, he can't. Because he wants to be here too, badly.

Physically, there were no obstacles stopping Laurent from moving away. Damen’s arms aren’t even enveloping him. Somehow, he slept without touching Laurent, probably because he knows Laurent doesn’t like to be touched without permission. God, why is Damen so?

For a few moments, he imagines this is real. That Damen is his to sleep on, to cuddle with. That if Damen wakes right now, he’ll kiss Laurent sleepily, a lazy smile spreading across his face. So he stays for a few seconds, tempted to move his arm on top of Damen's torso and snuggle closer. He wants this to be what they are. But it’s not.

Before Laurent could do anything that he can’t explain to Damen without spilling his heart open, he sighs and prepares to move away. He no longer wants to hurt and delude himself further. He doesn’t want to think of this as a mistake, but it is. Damen doesn’t feel the same way he does. Damen is his best friend and he should stay that way.

He moves back a little, but Damen shifts. He abruptly stops moving for a second to not wake him, but Damen puts his arms on top of him and brings him closer.

“Don’t go.” A sleepy voice whispers as a kiss is pressed on Laurent’s forehead.

Laurent freezes. He must still be dreaming. There’s no way in hell or heaven that Damen just kissed him on the forehead, asleep or not. He swallows, too afraid to look up and find out if Damen did this on purpose or in his dream. In this position, Laurent’s head is even closer to Damen’s clothed chest and he can hear his steady heartbeat, can see the rise and fall of his chest, and can determine Damen isn’t awake at all.

Laurent is going crazy. That’s it. He needs to leave, right now, but he can't move anymore. What the fuck is Damen doing to him? What the fuck is he dreaming about? Why can’t he just tell Laurent now that he likes him too, that nothing is ever simply friendly between them?

Once more, he tries to leave the embrace but Damen hugs him tighter.

“Don’t go.” Damen whispers again. “Laurent, I love you.”

Laurent cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot close his eyes. He’s sure now. He’s the one dreaming.

#Captive Prince #college au #lamen #modern lamen #modern lamen au #modern au #college au part 7 #college au part 7.5 #damen x laurent #laurent x damen #yes i have an article response due tomorrow so this is what i did first #when i procrastinate i write ha #that is just how it goes and i think it is actually good lmao #lamen fic by me

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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Persephone’s Symphony | Day One | Hades

Hey lovelies— here is the next part! I wanted to pause here and add a little note: the word tiny is thrown around here. I don’t want this to hinder anyone of you to not read this because you think the word doesn’t apply to you. I want to make a couple things clear. 1) All shapes and sizes are beautiful and I, myself, am a wonderfully plump lady. 2) I don’t use the word as a physical description in a way meant to limit a ‘reader insert’ type of fiction— I use it because Bucky Barnes is a super soldier and anyone would be small to him. Thus I hope you can enjoy it the same way I can— because sometimes we all just need to feel like a super soldier could rip us in half. Stay safe my lovelies and please do enjoy!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: some angsty moments but overall no warnings

Word count: 4.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She’s tiny. That’s the only thing he can think for the first couple hours. She is so damn tiny and fragile and soft and he doesn’t know how to be around a human that tiny and fragile and soft. Maybe it’s worse because he has to keep this tiny human alive. He hasn’t had to do that before— all the other tiny people in his life have been perfectly capable of keeping themselves alive. Even Steve all those years ago, when he only came up to his shoulder—barely— would have fought tooth and nail to stay alive. Even then it always felt like Bucky was just there in case. Maybe that was just Steve though.

He blinks— he doesn’t want to think about the man right now. He can’t afford to get lost in his head. Gods only know if he starts thinking about those days— the ‘good’ old days— he won’t stop. Maybe not for days. Maybe because they’ll remind him that he’s not supposed to be here— that he isn’t made to keep tiny, gentle, grilled cheese cooking, question asking things alive. Usually he’s the one hindering people from being alive— hindering life itself. Usually it doesn’t bug him this much but he can’t help but equate the girl in the Caltech hoodie with life—

“Is what they say about New York pizza true?”

— And himself with death.

“S’alright— Chicago is better.”

He watches as she flips through a book that she had picked up off the coffee table a few minutes ago. The Big Book of Dogs. Is he supposed to laugh at that? She is— giggling and flipping through pages upon pages of puppies. It isn’t aimed at him, her musical, soft sounds. She isn’t laughing at him. It only feels like she is. He’s learned to separate the difference these days— it’s just in his head. Still, he has to turn away from her, using the guise— his job— of being a bodyguard to keep his gaze moving.

From the corner of his eye he watches as she lowers the book, peaking over at him from behind a peppy looking Alaskan Malamute— yes, he knows his dogs. He is one, after all.

“You know, I think there are quite a few people who disagree with you on that one.”

Bucky pretends to ignore the way she quirks a brow at him, her eyes drifting back to the page. He also ignores the way his heart spikes at the little movement. Snap out of it, Barnes. He stands, stalking to the living room window and pulling back the heavy green curtain. Nobody is out there— he didn’t expect there would be someone, he just needed to move. How many more hours?

“Thought you were asking me.” He quips, staring out towards the bayou where the water has turned grey and choppy.

He watches as the rain pours down the window pane, tap tap tapping in front of his nose as the sunlight surrenders to the misty storm clouds. As much as he hates to admit it, Wilson was right— the rainy season’s rolling in on the dot. Even he is starting to feel the effects, his bones beginning to leaden.

As if on cue, she yawns, setting down The Big Book of Dogs and curling her legs into her chest, hiding them beneath the mountain of fabric she wears. “I was gauging. Consider it a test.”

Bucky huffs— not sure if he’s annoyed because of her questioning or because of how, despite the tension still laced through his shoulder blades like sailors knots, he isn’t that bothered by it. Annoyed because he isn’t annoyed— that’s a first. He lets the curtain drop again and turns to the TV where Netflix lays open but unused, blocking out one mind numbing haze for another. What would they even watch together?

“Oh yeah? Did I pass?”

Maybe some cheesy sit-com. That feels harmless enough and he’s been catching up on a few of them. Some of them even make him laugh. Maybe that’s in poor taste though. He’s never had to deal with someone else’s grief before— he rarely deals with his own as is.

“Maybe it would be better to just not ask that.”

He doesn’t think before he says it— he doesn’t have time to, it slips out before he can grab it and shove it back in his stupid, sentimental mouth. “You sound like Steve.”

Fuck. Her head pokes up, her doe eyes somehow managing to meet his gaze despite how hard he tries to force his neck to turn in the other direction. How does one person look so soft? He can see the question in her eyes, the way they spark with intrigue. He watches in slow motion as her lips— not glossy like they had been in the picture but still just as pink— peel apart.

“Who’s Steve?” Her voice is too sweet— too sincere. Like she actually doesn’t know. Then again, maybe she doesn’t— they never really used his name.

Bucky can’t answer. It’s too early and Steve is too long of a story. One hundred years worth of story, to be precise. How is he supposed to fit all of that into one answer? He can’t. He can’t answer but he can’t not answer either— not when she’s looking at him like she wants to know every little thing about him.

Bucky can’t answer so he doesn’t answer. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

She sinks back against the leather cushions, pulling her hands into her sweater. He almost curses when she curls her knees closer to her body. He can’t really see them from under her hoodie but he can see the movement— the way she wraps her arms around her legs so that she looks like a tiny blob of fabric and a head. His chest squeezes at the sight of her pulling away from him. Can he ever say anything right?

He told Wilson— he told him that he wouldn’t be a good fit for the job. What, a man like him? Man, dog, wolf, asshole. What’s the difference? He was right, that’s all that matters. It’s been all of five hours and he’s already making her uncomfortable all because he can’t—

“You’re the one who brought it up.” She grumbles, her soft— less sweet— voice pulling him from his unintentional staring contest with her forehead. His neck flushes with heat. Shit.

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s just— it’s a long story, doll.”

Again, it just slips out. Instead of wanting to push the word back into his lips this time, though, he wants to punch himself in the mouth. Doll? Really? He watches as her eyes blow wide, his stomach sinking when her pink lips peel apart again, her jaw going slack but none of her honeyed words coming out this time. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Immediately he begins running through apologies in his head. Of course none of them are actually worth their weight— not in gold or anything else. Not even in the energy it would take to say them. What’s he supposed to say? Sorry the last time I spoke to a woman was eighty years ago. That would be even more explaining. Damnit, Bucky!

He tries not to groan out loud, clenching his jaw, still staring into her eyes. Look away, you idiot! He can’t. He’s about to say something— or maybe he’s about to literally throw himself out the window, he isn’t exactly sure which is going to play out just yet— but before he can do either the delicate girl in the Caltech sweater speaks first.

“I— erm—” she squirms in her seat but her eyes stay latched on him the entire time— maybe she’s a fighter after all— “we have time?”

For a moment he just stares at her, lost in the way her nose scrunches, her lips pressing together like she’s the one who said something out of line. Like she, too, is contemplating punching herself in the face. That’s when he caves. It’s to save her from a broken nose. He repeats it like a mantra. He isn’t giving in because he’s weak, he’s giving in because it’s his job to make sure she’s safe— even from herself.

He takes a step forward, only now realizing he’s been standing in the middle of the room the entire time. Has he always been this fucking awkward? Nodding his chin towards the floor, the space in front of where she’s perched, he shoots her a look he can only hope resonates as something along the lines of ‘can I sit?’. She nods and he lowers himself to the ground in front of her, leaning against the side of the couch as gently as the super soldier can muster. Despite his efforts he still lands with a thud, the couch shifting backwards a couple inches. It’s not terrible— she only slightly flinches this time and he only kind of wants to bury himself alive.

“Not that much time—” he watches as her face drops, the way her her cheek twitches like she's sinking her teeth into it, and he hurries the rest of his sentence— “but if you ask—” he tries for a smile that feels more like the right side of his face seizing than anything— “then I’ll answer.”

He waits for a beat, his gaze locked on her hands which she pulls from her sleeves only to twist together again. He has to stop himself from looking down at his own hands— from thinking again about how fragile and delicate she is. He doesn’t have to look to know that both of her hands could fit in one of his. Especially his special hand. She hasn’t asked about it. A few times he’s caught her peeking at it, no doubt a million questions swirling behind those wide eyes of hers, but those are questions she has kept to herself. He wouldn’t blame her if she did ask, though— or if she was terrified.

“Alright,” his eyes flick back to her face, meeting her determined stare and avoiding the way his chest lightens, “deal.”

He nods.

“But—”

Oh no.

“You have to ask me things too. It’s only fair— that way we both know things about each other.”

It’s only fair. He doesn’t know what to say. Again. It seems that every time he feels like he’s beginning to figure her out he gets shoved on his ass. Literally— he is quite literally on his ass right now. All because of what? A little girl? A little girl with small hands and a stare worse than his?

A little girl who thinks he of all people deserves fair. He knew life was cruel but this is worse— this is evil.

“Ask away.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Wait, wait, wait— you can’t be serious!”

Her giggles sound more like music than laughter to him. Usually he hates music— the newer stuff at least, maybe Wilson was right; maybe he is an old man— but this is bearable. This is mesmerizing.

He glances up at her from over his shoulder, fighting the same smile that’s been threatening his lips for the better part of two hours now. He isn’t sure why exactly he does it. Maybe because he knows it would be nothing compared to hers. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t deserve to be compared to hers. He isn’t a religious man but it feels blasphemous to even suggest he could exist with a margin of the sanctity she exudes. He’s committed many sins— that he can say with certainty— but to propose that he is the same as her would be the worst one of all.

Of course, that doesn’t stop him from soaking up every pious laugh into his wicked skull— he isn’t a perfect man, after all.

“Deadly serious. Steve was pissed at me for weeks. How was I supposed to know she had a husband?” He is rewarded with more giggles, ones that set his chest on fire.

Is that what happens when demons spend too much time around angels— they start to burn?

She pulls the blanket she acquired around an hour ago over her face, muffling her laughter much to his dismay. “You could have asked her!”

Bucky lifts a shoulder before letting it flop back down again. “You’re right.”

This is how it has gone since he proposed she ask him questions. She asks him her question— usually something light and easy— favourite color, favorite food, what was the last thing he bought. That one threw him for a loop but he answered anyway— Chinese food. She had giggled at that. You don’t seem like a Chinese food kind of guy. She’s not wrong. That is usually what she does after the questions, though— giggles. Giggles and teases him. Tortures him. Same thing. He doesn’t even think she knows what she’s doing.

Then, of course, he asks her questions of his own. They’re pretty much the same— favorite animal, middle name, what Passadena is like. Warm and busy. That was her answer— he’s never been to SoCal so who’s to say whether or not she was telling the truth. He really doesn’t care. He was more paying attention to the timbre of her voice— the way she makes normal words sound important. He didn’t know he could be so enthralled listening to someone talk about a cat named mittens.

For the first hour or so it was questions like that. The easy, no commitment kind. He wouldn’t have minded if they had stayed like that but, as he kept answering, she had grown more and more confident. Honestly, he didn’t mind that either. It was interesting to watch as she became comfortable around him. Well, more comfortable than before— more comfortable than he would have thought she could be around a guy like him. Her knees eventually pushed out of that hoodie and she relaxed into the couch. It was strange— completely and utterly strange.

By the second hour she had braved the first of many hard questions. It wasn’t what he thought it would be— still nothing about his arm— it was nothing close to that, actually.

It was about his mother.

Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a hard question but it was, unexpectedly so. His mother. He hasn’t thought about his mother in years. Longer. Decades. He wasn’t expecting to feel so guilty about it but there he was, feeling like his throat was being crushed, while describing to the tiny, lovely girl— who has just lost her own mother— his mother’s lily of the valley perfume. He assumed that’s why she asked— because she misses her mother. He doesn’t blame her. He just never thought that he would miss his mother, too, today.

The rest weren’t as bad as that one. They still made his jaw ache, sure, but not like that. The ones about Steve were the only ones remotely comparable. How did you meet him? What was he like? What’s your favourite story with him in it? That was the last question— the one that made her giggle herself into a half hanging, half sprawling position over the arm of the couch— the position she is currently in right now.

He doctored the answers a little bit— he figured now isn’t the right time to tell her he’s pushing a hundred and ten— but he kept the good parts. Like how Steve and he had run through the streets of Brooklyn that night— Steve without a shirt and him in nothing but a pair of boxers that he is pretty sure to this day had belonged to her husband— being chased by the New York police. Good times.

“What, erm, what was her name?” Her voice is extra gentle— airy.

She’s nervous or maybe out of breath. He can’t quite tell, she’s too flopped over to get a proper look. She’s breathtaking either way.

All of a sudden it’s extra hard to fight back his smile. “I thought it was my turn to ask a question.”

Sitting up, she pools back into her seat. She scrunches her nose at him but doesn’t object. He can see that she wants to, though. Her eyes hide nothing. Then again he’s been trained to read people— to see the minute tick of her jaw and the invisible pulsing of her pupils. Invisible to anyone but him. Invisible to anyone who isn’t a monster— the big, bad wolf. His borderline smile dies quickly and he can’t bring himself to search for it again. This is how it should be.

Bucky clears his throat, mulling over what to ask her next. His eyes drift over the tan hoodie, the frays on the cuffs and the fact that there are no strings, and, like that, he has an idea.

“What’s the deal with that hoodie?” He tries to make it casual but he really does want to know— it’s like four sizes too big, there has to be a story.

He tries to make it casual but she still sobers. Like her hands receding once more into the cuffs of her sweater, the last remnants of the giggly girl fade from his line of sight. He chases it as far as he can, watching as her fingers disappear completely and lingering just in case it’s only a fluke. But no, they don’t come back, and he wishes he could disappear with them.

“It was—” her tongue pokes out, swiping against her pink lip and making it shine— “it was my dad’s. He, uh, he went to Caltech too. Was part of their alumni.”

The super soldier nods, pulling his legs up as well, hoping that by copying her she’ll see it as a signal to keep going. He doesn’t want to speak over her and accidentally derail her thoughts. He wants to know about her dad— her whole family actually. Whatever is important to her, like the hoodie.

“We used to go to these big alumni dinners and he would talk at them. Families like us were invited I guess— like a thank you of sorts.” Her eyes take on a faraway look, still latched on his but glassy and distant, no longer actually seeing him. It’s a look he understands too well. “One time he pulled me on stage with him. I think maybe I was thirteen? He said—” she stops, swallowing so hard her throat bobs, and he has to shove his hand under his leg to keep from reaching out— “ah, I’m sorry. He said ‘this girl right here— this is my daughter! If you think I’m good at what I do then you should see her. She’s something I tell you— Gonna be the best this school has ever seen!’”

His chest tightens— not necessarily from her story but from the way her voice cracks, her soft tone becoming scratchy. She swallows again and he hates it. He hates that he can see tears ready to fall and he hates that she’s even here with him under these circumstances.

He hates that he’s still grateful to be here anyway, being the person who she tells her story to.

“Was he right?” He knows it isn’t his question but he has to say something— anything— to make this better. He has no idea if this is it but it’s worth a shot.

Her brows push together, her head tilting slightly to the side, much too elegantly to be normal— are all women this pretty or is it just her? She blinks, clearing some of the mist, eyes drawing over his face. She traces across his brows, down his nose, stopping on his lips for a pulse— like tracing out the rhythm to a song only she can discern. Everything she does is like music. It must just be her.

“What?” She doesn’t say it rudely; she says it like she didn’t hear him— like she was too far lost in the wonderland of her memory to hear anything— and his chest tightens even further.

“You said your father told everyone you were going to be the best— were you?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of her, slowing his words and waiting for the recognition to creep in. It takes a moment but it does, the last of the glass evaporating into something else.

“I, uhm, I don’t know—”

“You do.” He presses— he can hear the edge of that something in her tone. The downplay is scribed over her feature— lowered eyes, flat mouth, trembling fingers— she wants to say something.

“What do you even know?”

About anything going on in my head— yeah, that’s not familiar at all.

Bucky doesn’t flinch when she hisses the words at him— partly because, despite the clear ice in her words, he doubts they came out as hard as she was hoping they would. Her voice isn’t made to sound wretched. He knows she could tell him the filthiest things— tear him down to the last peg, spit his name out like a curse— and she would still sound like an angel. That makes her dangerous— or at least it would if she didn’t already have tears welling up in those big eyes of hers again.

He flicks a brow, letting one corner of his mouth tick up, telling himself that it’s only for her peace of mind— to let her know that he isn’t angry at her. That he gets it. That sometimes he feels so fucking confused and hurt and scared that he, too, wants to hiss at people because at least then they leave him alone. Yeah, it’s only for her peace of mind.

“Try slamming the ‘you’ harder next time—” he draws the word out, exaggerating the motion while keeping his features a mixture of schooled and relaxed— “usually works out better.”

Her hands— which have been tangling over the collar of her hoodie— drop into her lap with a thunk, her eyes rolling. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome— but you never answered.”

She shoots him a deadpan stare— well, sort of. She never actually stopped looking at him so her face just morphes from vexed to blank. So far it’s his least favourite expression— he would rather she just got angry. He’d rather see fire— or ice— than nothing.

“I thought it was my turn?” Doesn’t she know that the more she avoids the question, the more he wants to know the answer?

Bucky doesn’t let up— he will if she actually tells him to drop it but she hasn’t and he doubts she will— she’s too determined to win. “Consider it payment for your extra questions.”

He holds her gaze still, waiting for the moment she folds. It takes longer than he expects it would, sitting in silence with her eyes on him for almost three minutes. He almost breaks around two and a half minutes. The girl has a way of looking at him like she can see right into his head. Still, he holds, waiting, waiting, waiting until finally— there it is!

Light a light shining in the darkness, her mouth pulls into a merciful smile— well, if mercy means the coy glint in her eye, that is. “I was the best.”

The super soldier nods, finally letting his gaze drop. He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t have to. His point has already been made. He never wanted to be right. He just wanted her to say it. Not for him but for herself. He doesn’t let himself mull over what that says about him. Nothing good. That’s the only answer. It says nothing good about him, the lengths he’s already willing to go to keep this soft, icy girl safe. Him, a monster. It only tells him that he’s selfish— but he already knew that. Those are thoughts for another time.

“Your turn.” He reminds her, leaning back against the arm of the couch, all but aware of the foot of space between his head and her hand which is scratching over the leather behind him.

There is no pause this time— no beat, moment, or minute. Just like that she’s back, moving on to the next topic, almost as though she has had the question queued for ages now, dying to know the answer. He supposes it’s only fair— she let him ask his questions.

“What was her name?”

Her voice lacks the airy note it had held the last time she asked, clearly over waiting, and he has to turn to the window to hide the way he finally cracks, his lips sloping up in a grin that’s both too alien and too familiar. It tastes too much like the old days— like peach schnapps and movie theatre popcorn. She’s not ready for that. He knows because he isn’t.

“Delores.”

_______________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky (if i missed anyone I am so sorry please shoot me a message and I’ll fix it)

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #mcu #mcu fic #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe fic #Persephone's Symphony

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