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rinwellisathing · 5 months ago

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Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 10

Kroger frowned as he pushed aside a dry, dead branch, moving cautiously down the path, Octavia, Gale, and Lae'zel following close behind. He would have greatly preferred to stay back and tend to the patient, but the lack of proper examination tools made that impossible. Halsin could do more good with his herbs and druidic abilities at this point and the young Ghustil knew it. Still, there must have been what the Istik called a 'House of Healing' in the nearby town and likely he could scavenge some equipment there. The Last Light Inn had enough alcohol within to sterilize anything that needed it, so that wasn't a concern. “You know, barring the bit where we are in great danger here, this place is fascinating. Can you imagine such an all encompassing curse? It's very much like Thayyan spells I've read of that sicken the entire environment around them, and yet there's nothing arcane to it, it is purely necrotic...unholy...” Octavia mused as she gently touched a leaf, which fell to ash between her delicate fingers. Lae'zel rolled her eyes. “tchk.... And we are tasked with banishing it in order to defeat this 'general'...It is...inconvenient.” “Not necessarily, it may have nothing to do with the general's immortality per se, it could be something else entirely...It would be helpful to see him in person to ascertain.” Gale frowned, tapping a finger to his chin. The town loomed before them and Kroger frowned, squinting as he saw figured approaching them in the fog. He summoned forth a glowing lance before him, relief coursing his body when he realized it didn't look any different, even with Vlaakith's scorn...That should have set him back as a cleric, but somehow it didn't...He'd have to consider this further when he had a moment, but for now, he turned to face the potential threat.

“Whoa, hey! It's me, it's Sentry!” One of the figures called out, raising up his hands in a gesture of peace. He was, at least at first blush, clearly telling the truth. The glowing armor and tall golden horns were enough of a tell...and, of course, the fact that he had called this out so loudly in the middle of a haunted town near an enemy fortress removed all doubt. Lae'zel lowered her blade and Gale and Octavia let their spells fade from their hands. Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Astarion caught up a moment later and the group reconvened. “Glad you're here, this place is huge and we've got to find Jaina, find all those prisoners, and on top of that something to help Halsin's patient.” Sentry smiled at the newcomers. “I suggest we split into groups, we will cover more grounds that way.” Lae'zel suggested as she gazed into the fog. “This appears to be some sort of toll gate, Octavia tells me that Istik often hand over valuable items here, we may find useful weapons or a means to improve our armor. I will take a small party here.” Octavia nodded. “I'd like to check the records here. The unconscious man is called Art Cullough, I have written this down. Perhaps he had paid a toll when he came here...I will go with Lae'zel.” “Many hands make light work, if there are many magical objects in the vaults here, Octavia may have her hands full...I might be of some assistance lightening the load.” Gale offered, joining the two Githyanki. “Alright, I'm gonna go find a tavern.” Sentry grinned. His expression faltered when heads turned towards him with looks of exasperation. “What? He's a Flaming Fist Soldier, the guy probably frequented taverns. I've got a good reason!” Karlach chuckled and clapped Sentry on the back. “Fair enough, I'll back you up, soldier.” “Well, chances are the tavern doubled as an inn in a little rat hole of town like this...you'll need someone to unlock any rooms you find.” Astarion sighed, feigning annoyance even as he sauntered up beside Sentry, standing closer to him than he normally would to a person. “I need some tools from the local medical ward...I intend to search it first and foremost.” Kroger added.

“Clerics often find work at houses of healing, there may be Sharran texts and relics to be found there as well. Let me come with you.” Shadowheart looked into the fog in the direction of some dim lanterns. “You'll need a blade to watch your backs, in that case.” Wyll suggested. “Allow me.” Kroger would have allowed him just about anything looking at that handsome smile, but he managed a slow nod. – Sentry pushed open the doors to the tavern, a badly damaged sign proclaiming it 'The Waning Moon' creaked overhead. Karlach followed behind, whistling as she looked around. The party noted several rotting figures milling about with staggering, sluggish gaits. The place was gloomy and run down, cobwebs hanging from every rafter, layers of dust covering the surfaces. The floorboards creaked with every step. “You know, I think I've been here before.” Astarion thought aloud. “Ugh...Remind me not to drink anything they're serving, though...” “Oh come on, Fangs, they've got so many bottles odds are some of them are still sealed.” Karlach laughed, nodding towards the vast shelves of booze behind the two or three bars the tavern boasted. “Y'know, I actually would've loved a place like this in its heyday I think.” Sentry grinned as he approached the only manned bar and hopped onto one of the seats, slapping his hands down on the counter, looking up at the bartender in awe. “Oh well hello there! Aren't you a fascinating specimen! The stitchwork, those tubes! It's all so clever!” He gasped, leaning in for a closer look, chin resting on his hands. “Tell me, how was this all accomplished?”

Karlach and Astarion exchanged a look of confusion and then both stared openly at Sentry. The creature they were looking at behind the bar was monstrous, a hideous amalgamation of dead flesh and filthy tubes, the body of a man fused horrifically to the body of a pig and barrel of something indescribable and yet Sentry reacted as though a celestial being stood before him. “So...into taxidermy, are you? That's a fun hobby...”Karlach laughed uncomfortably. “Ugh...and here I thought you had taste, darling.” Astarion rolled his eyes. The bar tender held up a hand. “DRINK! DRANK! BE DRUNK! First, you tell a story, then I answer a question.” He slammed a mug full of a sickly blue liquid, one that looked uncomfortably like the liquid coursing through the tubes Sentry was so fascinated with down on the country. “Amazing...So you produce this drink yourself...as in...fully...The craftsmanship is so utterly unique, just phenomenal!” He grinned, eagerly drinking down the substance as Karlach and Astarion watched with completely undisguised disgust. “Tell me of enemies conquered! Of great battles you've fought!” The bartender slapped a hand on the counter and leaned in. “Huh...a good combat story, yeah? Oh you're gonna love this. So we were in The Underdark, yeah? And this mad wizard tried to tame a Bullette. Thing's leaping and burrowing all around us and the ground is shaking under our feet...So I've got it focused on me, and the rumbling attracts not one, but two minotaurs! Lucky for me, my good pal Astarion here is a sneaky sort and he takes out one of them at the tendons and brings it to the ground, but the other comes straight for me. I kind of manage this twirling swing with my axe and rip through the Bullette and use the momentum to take off the minotaur's head!” Sentry paused a moment with a frown. “Wish I'd kept it, though...Would've been great as part of a sculpture...” Astarion grabbed Sentry by the shoulder and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Remember, we need information on Ketheric Thorm, don't waste all your questions on some gods forsaken taxidermy project.” --- Kroger wrinkled his nose as the party entered the house of healing. There was something rotten about it, something stale...something rotten. His attention was turned by a voice from a small counter at the side.

“Are we feeling poorly? I'm afraid you'll need to get in line, but you will be seen.” A veiled nurse behind the counter explained. “But there isn't a li--” Wyll began, looking around the doorway, but Kroger held up a hand and approached the counter. “I apologize, miss, I am not a patient. Due to the volume of the ill and injured your ward has seen lately, the doctor sent for aid. I am a physician here to assist.” Kroger explained in an even, matter of fact tone. “I may appear unconventional, but rest assured, I am singular in my field.” “An answer to our prayers! Straight down the hall! The doctor is in the operating theater.” She beamed, gesturing Kroger and his companions into the building. “Keep an eye out for any medical equipment that doesn't look rusted or looks like it could be easily cleaned and sterilized. Unspoiled herbs and tinctures are also useful.” Kroger explained as the party made their way through the gloomy, desolate rooms of the hospital. “Toys and storybooks....this must be the children's ward...” Wyll murmured as the party entered a large, open room with small beds lining the walls. “I spent some time in one myself as a boy, got a bit too enthusiastic playing knights in the park.” He recalled, the memory of fresh air and sunny days calming his nerves, which were quite on edge in this place. “Broken bones are a common childhood ailment.” Kroger nodded. “I remember once before my training as a Ghustil began, Lae'zel insisted I stand up for myself when the others would ridicule me...It ended about as well as you can imagine and I sustained similar injuries.”

Wyll frowned a moment, he couldn't help but feel sorry for Kroger and his rather difficult childhood. But he smiled warmly and placed a hand on the Githyanki's shoulder. “Well, it's a shame we hadn't met back then, I would have signed your cast.” Kroger blushed a bit and returned the smile. “With impeccable handwriting, no doubt. I'm told young Istik from noble families study penmanship as well as swordplay.”

“Why should either of your have needed a cast? Healing magic is readily available.” Shadowheart quirked brow. Kroger looked back at her in confusion. “Shadowheart, you are a cleric, surely you know children's bones aren't fully developed until late in puberty, the healing magic is precarious at best with their level of activity. A cast is necessary to ensure the bones do not re-break to soon.” “I....suppose we didn't deal often with healing children at the temple of Shar...and I really don't remember much of my childhood, other than the bit with the wolves I told you about...” She admitted, frowning a bit. Wyll seemed about to respond, when his eyes shifted to a pair of beds near the doorway and his expression fell. Kroger followed his gaze and winced, inhaling deeply. “Arabella's parents...I only hope she avoided the same fate...” “She may be nearby if she's still alive...we should look for her.” Shadowheart suggested. --- “Keep close, this place has an ominous pall to it.” Lae'zel wrinkled her nose, glancing around the dark corners of the toll house. “It is surprising a place which houses treasure should be so poorly guarded.” Octavia frowned, folding her arms and tilting her head in thought. “The town is haunted, so it stands to reason that perhaps the guards would be ghosts, able to remain invisible for long periods of time.” She fumbled in her pack for a moment, fishing out an odd set of goggles with strange blue crystal lenses and fitting them onto her head, lowering them over her eyes. “Hmm...no, still nothing...” The gloom remained unbroken as the trio continued to make their way through the toll house, coming to a crumbling staircase. When they reached the first step, Gale noticed Lae'zel and Octavia's ears began to twitch. “Is something wrong?” He asked, listening closely, but hearing nothing. “There's a jingling sound...like bells or like...coins, maybe?” Octavia frowned, tilting her head in the direction the staircase led.

“Either way, something is moving up there...Patrolling.” Lae'zel narrowed her eyes and slowly began to make her way up the rotting staircase, moving gingerly to avoid alerting the potential threat as well as to avoid falling straight through the stairs. Octavia followed carefully behind, nearly stumbling, but smiling gratefully as Gale caught her and gently helped her right herself. She happily savored the feeling of his hands planted gently on her hips for that brief moment and then his hand in hers as he walked by her side up the stairs. She couldn't help but stifle a giggle as she heard her sister's scoff of annoyance as she watched the two of them, waiting at the top of the steps. When Gale and Octavia finally joined Lae'zel at the top, the trio laid eyes on a strange figure, quite like a living suit of armor stomping purposefully around as if searching for something. The body was a shell of lustrous gold and with every step, it shed a small fountain of coins onto the ground. Its stance was hunched over like a dog sniffing out prey and it twisted sickeningly to face them, a stiff, sharp finger pointing in their direction. “What do you bring?!” It demanded. --- Sentry swayed slightly on the bar stool, but to Karlach and Astarion's surprise, and perhaps horror, he was still drinking down that sickly fluid and seemed to be in good spirits. He spoke to the rather horrifying bartender like an old friend and drank what he was served without hesitation. “So, anyway, there we were aboard this Illithid ship, a nautiloid, it's called, and the thing's on fire! Just burning and starting in, well, what passes for a nosedive for an astral vessel...And below us there's just this constant clash of demons and devils across this fiery hellscape. Above us, Githyanki dragon riders fanning the flames. I mean, I'm not one for adventure novels, I prefer a good copper dreadful or a mystery myself, but fuck! If I could write of that, I think it'd be a best seller...It was pretty amazing...” Sentry was rambling, kicking his legs like a contented child as he took another swig and cleared his throat. “So anyway, I guess my next question to you is, you mentioned something Father Ketheric would be mad if you talked about, but come on now, what's a secret between friends, we are friends now, yeah? What bond could be more sacred than a bartender and his number one customer?”

The bartender shook and trembled, that awful liquid beginning to leak from where his mouth must have been. “The cage...her cage....talk...perish....die...buried...buried in Thorm tomb...father told me...” The bartender continued to foam and writhe, his body spasming as he began to babble nonsensically. The sound of straining seams punctuated each slurred word and Karlach grabbed Sentry, yanking him back from the bar as the strange creature behind it leaked from his stitches and then slowly began to go still. Sentry looked on sadly, stepping back towards the bar and pouring out the rest of his drink. “Rest easy, friend. It was good talking to you.” He gave a small smile before turning and walking back to his companions. “So Thorm is maybe drawing his power from a person, it seems...He talked about a woman in a cage buried in the Thorm crypt...I think maybe that's where we go after we've rescued the captives.” “Alright, I have just one, small question....Why in the hells would you drink that?” Astarion gazed incredulously at Sentry. “For all you knew it was poison...I wouldn't be surprised if it were something worse!” Sentry shrugged. “It wasn't half bad, honestly. And it was the strongest drink I can ever remember having, so that's got to count for something, right? Anyway, we should probably go find the others....” Karlach placed a hand on Sentry's shoulder and patted gently. “Aww, there, there soldier. You told him some amazing stories, so that's gotta count for something!” “Yeah...maybe that'll give him nice dreams at least wherever he is.” Sentry nodded, giving Karlach's hand a squeeze.

--- Kroger pushed open the doors to the operating theater and stepped inside. It wasn't dissimilar to the one he'd often visited when training as a Ghustil at first blush, other than the fact that it was dilapidated and filthy. At least, it seemed so at first until the doctor himself came into view and Kroger was taken aback. An impossibly tall creature on strange stilts which bent like the back legs of an animal. His fine clothing was dusty and spotted with deep brown stains which Kroger clocked as very long since dried bloodstains. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick golden spectacles, which seemed to have several layers of lenses...or perhaps they WERE his eyes, it wasn't such a jump to think so when Kroger looked back to those stilt-legs and then to the horrible golden claws, like glimmering scalpels, which had replaced his hands. Nurses just like the ones throughout the house of healing stood around watching him operate, some veiled, others with their ruined and rotting faces on full display. But what drew Kroger's full attention and renewed his courage was the patient. Blinded, mouth issuing blood where his tongue had been removed, writhing and suffering on that filthy operating table. Unacceptable. The Githyanki marched forward boldly, Wyll and Shadowheart just behind him. Kroger drew himself up to his full height, although less than imposing, he radiated confidence as he looked into those dark lenses which passed for the doctor's eyes and cleared his throat. “Doctor, I have some reservations about your methods.” “Oh? But our methods seek only to soothe, for what is the light of eyes but the cancer that causes one to witness the laceration of being? If light is the symptom, then darkness is the cure.” The doctor mused.

Kroger frowned a moment, bowing his head in thought. Their methods were Sharran, of course they were, Ketheric Thorm himself was once a Sharran and the curse upon this land was of her faith as well. He considered for a moment what he knew of the faith from his studies and from his conversations with Shadowheart. “However, mustn't the subject be willing in order to receive the full blessing of The Lady of Loss?” The abomination paused a moment, reflecting. He gazed eerily down at Kroger, but to the Ghustil's credit, he stood his ground. “Hmm...that is so...but the nurses must learn, so what can be done?” “Isn't it clear? They must practice on you, doctor. A true faithful of Shar as well as a man of medicine, only you could show them what it truly means to embrace loss and be healed.” Kroger replied, his tone even, but Wyll and Shadowheart could see the venom in his gaze, the true hatred he felt for this charlatan, this mad scientist masquerading as a healer with his filthy tools and nightmarish methods. Kroger was not afraid, he had nothing but disdain for this creature and nothing but pity for his misguided minions and suffering patient. “Yes, yes you are right...” The mad doctor threw the patient from the operating table and laid his own body upon it, his expression turning to ecstasy as the nurses mutilated him with their blades as blood coated the floor. The party watched solemnly as the nurses dispersed and the doctor bled out, a ghoulish smile still on his pale face. Kroger slowly approached the patient, who lay trembling on the floor and he knelt beside him, drawing him into his lap and gently cradling him there. “I am so sorry...This is the best I can do for you...May your god grant you peace in their embrace wherever you end up...” The Githyanki murmured softly, taking a blade from his belt and expertly piercing the suffering human's heart, holding him gently until his breathing stopped and his body stilled.

As Kroger laid the body carefully on the ground, he looked up to see a gloved hand extended to him, taking it and allowing Wyll to help him to his feet with a grateful smile. “Thank you...I am sorry you had to see that.” “Please, I've seen far worse in my time as The Blade of Frontiers, I'm horribly some blushing damselle who swoons at the sight of blood.” Wyll brushed off the apology. “I'm sorry you weren't able to save him.” Kroger nodded. “I am too...but I'm a healer, if I focused on every patient I couldn't save, I'd hardly have time to devote to the ones I can.” “Your knowledge of Sharran doctrine is impressive, Kroger. Who knew a servant of Vlaakith would be so well studied.” Shadowheart remarked approvingly. “I'm not her servant any longer...but only a fool studies only their own faith when much can be learned from knowing others.” Kroger replied with a sigh. “We should go and find the others on the subject of patients I can save...Who knows what they've gotten themselves into.”

-----

“Well, this is a toll house, yes?” Octavia regarded the strange golden being. “So I suppose I've brought my toll and the toll for my party.” She fished three gold coins from her pouch and tossed them to the creature. “I demand more!” The creature cried out, extending a hand and motioning for Octavia to provide more gold. Lae'zel's hand went to her sword hilt, but Octavia held up a hand to Lae'zel. “But I have paid our toll already. I hardly owe you more for nothing else in return.” Octavia persisted. “The function of a toll house is quite clear and finite, after all.” She looked around the abandoned toll house, the decaying building, the dusty vaults and chests. “You know, I get the idea we are the first visitors here in a very long time...why do you stay? You have so much gold already, you could simply leave and be free.” The creature cocked its head in confusion. “I....It is my job to collect the toll.” It insisted, reaching out again.

“Perhaps once it was, but look around you, there's no one here to oversee your duties. Who do you report to?” Octavia asked calmly, gesturing around the abandoned building. The creature froze, its empty black eye sockets scanning the room and in a moment of clarity, it slumped slightly, seeming to finally see the empty toll house for what it was. It slowly sank to its knees, lowering its head a moment and shaking its head back and forth almost sadly. “I see...I will return your toll, then...” And it clattered to the ground, each piece of armor falling away and slowly vanishing, leaving several piles of gold in its place, which Octavia approached and examined with a sigh and a shake of her head. “I guess I can understand that much dedication to duty...my book certainly does take up a lot of my time...but still, it is sad to see someone so absorbed in their work that they forget to live.” She mused, her eyes turning towards Gale thoughtfully. “I can certainly at least still find things besides my book that I would want to live for.” She offered a small smile. “I couldn't agree more.” Gale replied with a nod of his head, his warm brown eyes meeting her bright blue ones as they shared a gaze in the moment. Her brilliant mind, her quick thinking and calm in the face of danger, he could easily admit he'd fallen for her. “Chk...When you two are finished, we should rejoin the others. They are prone to distraction, as I'm sure you've noticed.” Lae'zel rolled her eyes, interrupting the moment as she brushed past the two wizards and back towards the stairs. --- Jaina hurried up the steps, just catching up with Ketheric as he approached the doorway that led to the roof. “General Thorm, I---”

He turned, grabbing her by the wrist. His grasp was firm but surprisingly gentle, it brought to mind her father's grasp when she reached for something dangerous aboard the ship as a child. Chastising, paternal. She looked up at him in confusion. “I know who you are, Miss Thalassia...I have seen your party through those scrying eyes Enver Gortash insists on employing and while his focus may have been on one broken ghost from his past, I was sure to commit you all to memory...Let your party try and retrieve you...In doing so, they will deliver the artifact right into my hands.” Ketheric explained, pulling her along with him. “General Thorm, listen...” Jaina began as she followed along with him. There would be no point in struggle, as far as she knew, he was still immortal and she had seen his power. Diplomacy was her only weapon now, but alone with him and acting on the hunch she had as to why he was involved in this plot, it wasn't a bad weapon to wield. “Is this really what Melodia would want for you? For Isobel?” Ketheric's expression remained stone, but his eyes held a hint of uncertainty, did Jaina dare imagine it to be remorse? He shook his head. “It's too late to think of that now, there is only one way Isobel will be returned to me and it's a price I will gladly pay to have her back.” Jaina frowned but persisted. “You love her so much, General Thorm, I can see that...In many ways, you remind me of my own father...and because of that, I can tell you you haven't lost your chance to make this right, to reunite with Isobel on your own terms. I saw her room and how well you kept it, I saw the portraits and I see your face when she comes to mind. You're not this dread general, not really...You're a father who would do anything for his daughter. But think, really think about what she would want...”

Ketheric released Jaina's wrist and crossed to a small table with two chairs set beside it. He sat in one and gestured for Jaina to sit in the other. “We have some time before the end, Miss Thalassia...If you are so insistent that we talk, that you understand me...let me understand you, because you do remind me very much of my daughter...” Jaina nodded her head and sat in the chair across from him. “What would you like to know?” Ketheric opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. “We'll keep things even...You tell me a story about your family, and I will tell you one about mine...” Jaina nodded and took a small sip from her glass. “Well, the story of my family begins with a man running from a small minded place to start a better life...His name is Jonah Thalassia and his one constant companion on his journey is his brother, Miguel Thalassia....Tieflings born to human parents, it happens more often than you'd think and is rarely considered auspicious. Especially to a haughty noble family who pays lip service to deities of light and goodness.” She began. “On the other side, is Bel Stormbringer, youngest daughter of a devoted priestess of Umberlee whose island has long been home to a unique group of tieflings devoted to The Goddess of the Deep, these two's lives intertwined and brought myself and my twin brother Tiburon into the world. My parents are devoted to one another, as good to eachother as they are to my brother and I...Their love, I think, is what you seemed to have with your wife....you actually remind me a lot of my father, I think there must have been a dry, cultivated sense of humor under that dour expression once...” Jaina smiled, searching Ketheric's face as she took another drink.

“Once...When Melodia still walked these halls, perhaps.” Ketheric replied, taking a drink as well. “Isobel's laughter lit up the tower back then...” Jaina nodded. “Her portraits are very beautiful, her expression is so kind, she must be a wonderful person.” “She is....a better daughter than I deserved...” Ketheric looked into the distance, expression cold and sad for just a moment before regaining his stern demeanor. “She was a priestess like her mother, devoting their lives to their goddess...but she did nothing when they were taken from me...” --- The scrying eyes at the goblin camp and in the Underdark could not both have been tampered with, Enver knew that for a fact. They were controlled by separate casters and the feed showed on separate screens in his work space, but he found himself re-examining them again and again. In the goblin camp, Sentry looked directly into the orb, those familiar eyes enhanced by the orb's curvature as he grabbed it and held it to his face. “Hello? Are you following me? Like in particular?” The voice was dead on, even Orin could never get it quite right, Enver thought, as he watched Sentry shake the orb like a gift box and peer into it curiously before tossing it haphazardly away. It showed him arguing with a female Tiefling Enver barely registered for a moment.

“That's a scrying orb, Sentry! Whoever's controlling it just got a close up look of your face! Do you realize you're going to be their main target when they realize we've taken out this place's leadership?” The woman snapped. “It's funny looking, I wanted to see what it was...Sorry we're not all adept at the arcane arts.” Sentry had shot back, his tone that flippant, teasing tone Enver remembered. And then a bolt of lightning from the woman's hands cut the feed. The one in the underdark was far less in depth and easily discernible. It showed Sentry briefly talking to a pair of Duergar, a group of people Enver still didn't care to assess by his side and then suddenly a running leap at the scrying eye and everything fizzling out as his axe came down on it. Gods, he remembered watching Sentry cleave enemies in two. So many assassination attempts thwarted. He pressed a hand to the screen and sighed. It was too much to hope for, too much to believe it could really be him. One of Orin's more talented dopplegangers maybe, or wishful thinking and just another tiefling who looked close enough. Hells, Valda had been able to bring him quite a variety of disposable whores that could almost pass as Sentry for an evening's entertainment. He could find a fleeting image of his love anywhere if he was desperate enough. Still, another screen lit up with a view just outside Moonrise towers of an armored tiefling with silvery hair and a scar burned across his face making his way through Reithwin with a party of adventurers.

He leaned in close, assessing every detail. Could it truly be his Sentry, making his way back to him after so long?

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 2 years ago

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When the Longing Returns

Phantom of the Opera (2004) Fanfiction

Chapter 2

Read a spicier version on AO3

Read chapter 1 here

Pairing: Erik (The Phantom) x Christine Daaé

Rating: M

Chapter Summary: The Phantom returns Christine to the Opera Populaire, where she must conceal her new attachment to the Phantom from Raoul.

Chapter Word Count: 5,690

You can now enjoy this chapter with my custom made immersive soundscapes! Follow the links in the story.

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Music is the only sensual pleasure without vice. ~ Samuel Johnson

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Christine grasped the Phantom's hand as he led her through the cemetery gate to where the barouche and horses stood waiting. She looked at the empty driver's seat and only then fully realized that it was he who had driven her there. She had been so caught up in her inner musings she hadn't even noticed who was driving when they departed the opera house.

But if the Phantom had brought her, what had happened to the driver?

A sudden anxiety gripped Christine's heart and she stumbled.

Immediately sensible of her faltering, the Phantom turned, reaching out and taking her upper arm to steady her. The mere sensation of his stable hold eased her, but the fear that had made her stagger reminded her that those same strong hands were not beyond choking the life from a man.

He could see instantly that something in her was amiss.

"Christine?" His voice was soft, concerned.

Hers was quiet, but surprisingly steady as she asked, "Where is the coach driver?"

His eyes studied her face as he took in her question, and she thought she saw a flash of dark humor in them.

"In the carriage house, unconscious," he replied, looking forward as he began to walk again. Christine followed, feeling relief begin to slowly relax her tense muscles. "I knocked him out, then gave him a sedative; he's quite unharmed, I assure you," he continued, before glancing back at her, the flawless, unmasked side of his face bearing an arch expression. "Were you afraid that perhaps I'd killed him?"

Christine felt her stomach tighten as he said aloud exactly what she had been thinking for that brief, horrible moment. It was silent but for the soft crunch of their footsteps over the frosty ground as she considered how best to reply to his supposition.

"You've killed before," she said quietly, and despite the tremor in her voice, and her crystal clear recollection of the horrific thud and the sight of the body that had crashed down to the stage—her hand nevertheless tightened around his as he pulled her along.

"Yes, I have..." he said after a moment, his voice almost as quiet as hers as he felt her grip his hand.

They had reached the carriage now and he turned to face her again, silently staring; marveling that, in spite of her obvious disquiet regarding his guilt, she still stood there with her hand clasped trustingly in his, and his ring on her finger.

He lifted his still-gloveless left hand and reached slowly, cautiously, toward her face. Still, she did not flinch from his touch. It was the very first time he'd ever touched her face with his bare hand. His breath caught at the first moment of contact, and Christine felt hers leave her in a sudden rush as well. As his palm came to rest on the side of her face, he stroked her cheekbone reverently with his thumb and savored the smooth softness of her skin.

His eyes were soft as she accepted his touch, and her gaze drank in the tenderness that flooded his. Her hand came up to rest over his, lovingly, comfortingly.

His eyelids slid closed, and he had to take a deep breath before he could speak again. "I am not..." he paused, desperately searching for adequate words to ease her, "...not a senseless killer, Christine," he said softly, looking down to her again, his eyes pleading and gentle.

The words he'd found were not remotely adequate, he knew, but for the moment, if they gave her any solace, they would have to suffice.

Christine could not interpret all of the emotions on his face, but she felt his plea, and nodded her head in understanding.

Slowly, she drew closer to him, letting him hold her as she rested her head against his chest and felt his heartbeat under her cheek. She inhaled deeply and tried to discern each note in his unique scent: the silk of his waistcoat... the earthy tang of the subterranean tunnels he frequented... hints of many exotic spices... alcohol, but something rich and pleasant; cognac, perhaps?... and the mellow, floral sweetness of roses. It took several deep, intoxicating pulls for her to identify all these notes and there was more, much more to decipher. She would have time to apprehend them all. But not right now.

She resented that she could not remain there longer, but the clouds and fog of the early morning were thinning with the approach of dawn. Allowing herself just a few moments more in the warmth of his arms, she finally lifted her face to his.

"You must take me back now," she said grudgingly.

He nodded, stroking her face again, still in awe of her affection. That he should have to return her again, when he finally had her, uncoerced, in his arms! It was a torture, but a necessity. He could bear it only because he knew that he would have other opportunities to embrace her soon enough. "No one must know anything has changed between us," he said solemnly. "Carry on as you have done until now. I will return you in the carriage. Once it has stopped inside the coach house, I will leave you. If you are noticed returning, tell the truth: you visited the cemetery, you didn't notice the driver."

"Yes," Christine said, listening intently to his instruction as he helped her into the barouche.

"You will come to me tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" she asked, confused, and slightly dismayed.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked in a subtly pointed tone. Christine had more than an inkling that he knew exactly how much rest she'd gotten—which was not much at all. She had drifted in and out of sleep, but the moon had seemed too bright, and her head and heart too full of agitating thoughts and emotions for her to stay at rest very long before she woke again, gasping. After only a short time, she'd stopped trying and lain awake, waiting until it seemed a reasonable hour to wake the porter.

She didn't answer, but blushed slightly, looking sheepishly at him.

"I think I robbed you of enough sleep last night. I would prefer not to deprive you again so soon. You need rest; for your voice and your health."

"I know," she acquiesced. It wasn't the first time she'd heard him admonish her on the subject. The sense of familiarity in it warmed her.

"You should go to bed as soon as possible after you return, so you will be perfectly rested when you come to me tomorrow night. Promise me you will."

Christine was further warmed by the tenderness of this entreaty, and smiled as she responded, "I will, I promise."

The ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Good. Now that you've returned to me, I have much to teach you."

Christine nodded again, feeling a little surge at that suggestion in his expression. She could not see him sooner, but she knew that he would see her. A wave of nervous excitement washed through her at this knowledge—which might have struck her with a measure of horror just yesterday—and she took no pains to hide it. It was rather like the nervousness she'd often felt when she would sneak to the chapel, sometimes early in the morning, others late at night, for her singing lessons. Similar, but not entirely the same. These tremors reached deeper.

An obstacle then occurred to her—one that hadn't existed when she'd taken her secret lessons with the Angel of Music.

"What about Raoul?" she asked. "He slept outside the dormitory last night; I had to sneak past him to come here. I am sure he means to again tonight, and probably tomorrow night as well."

The Phantom's lip curled ever so slightly at the mention of his rival's name. "I will see to it that he doesn't interfere," he replied in a hard voice.

Seeing a glimmer of worry behind Christine's eyes, his expression softened into one of reassurance. "I'll have Madame Giry take care of it," he clarified. "You have my word, no harm will come to him—only a stern word from a ballet mistress. And, failing that, a harmless sedative." He reached up and allowed himself the liberty of holding her hand once more, squeezing as if to say trust me. She returned the pressure, and he lifted her hand to kiss it again, holding it there for several heartbeats.

Finally letting go, he fixed her with a last, lingering gaze before pulling his glove on, covering his face with a muffler, and climbing into the driver's seat.

The carriage began to roll, and Christine felt an intense mixture of emotions at the enormity of her decisions that morning. She gazed down at the gold ring, running the tip of her index finger fondly over the smooth, smoky stone.

~~~~~

Christine had the length of the return journey to think, which was fortunate, as she had a great deal to consider while she stared up at his back.

The choice she had made was rash, irrational; rooted solely in emotions and not at all in logic or propriety. And there would be much more questionable behavior on her part in the weeks to come.

She was going to break her engagement to Raoul; but first she was going to lie to him outright. Could she sustain this? Continue to receive Raoul's affections, pretending to take comfort in them when her true source of comfort lay elsewhere—in a man she knew Raoul would happily see in prison? Or even dead? Could she so actively deceive her childhood friend and late fiancé?

It seemed that these questions should be a great concern to her, but as she posed them to herself, she found that she already knew the answers, as certainly as she'd ever felt anything.

Yes. She could.

Her greatest challenge now would be continuing a façade of her girlish, wide-eyed fright at the mention of the Phantom; that would be particularly difficult when she so longed for his nearness. It seemed fortunate to her that shivers and shudders could often indicate obverse emotions.

She felt so differently now from how she had the night before; resolute and purposeful. It was a relief to no longer be haunted by her repressed emotions flapping in the back of her mind, like a bat trapped in a cage. This engagement was just as secret as hers to Raoul had been, and the consequences of it being discovered of a much more dire magnitude, and yet, somehow, she felt so much... freer with the Phantom's ring on her finger than she had with Raoul's around her neck.

She looked down at the dark stone in its simple, elegant setting again. It fit her, and it was of slender enough proportions that it did not look out of place on her delicate white hand, but it was very plainly not made for a woman. This was his ring; taken from his hand and given to her—not just a symbol of promise, but a token of himself. It was an incredibly, almost overwhelmingly, intimate favor, and Christine loathed the idea of having to go through the day hiding it from view. A chain would not do now, she thought. Chains could be lost... stolen. She would have to secrete this treasure closer to her person.

As they re-entered the city, Christine pulled herself from her inner thoughts and was forced to focus on her present task. Her heart was pounding again, from anxiety now, rather than the more pleasant, passionate excitement she'd experienced in the cemetery.

Working to calm herself, she reluctantly slid his ring from her finger and clutched it for a moment, feeling it dig into her palm; then she tucked it down the front of her bodice where she knew it would be safe.

As she did so she glanced up to look at the broad line of his back and shoulders again, and saw his head half-turned to look back at her. His mask concealed his expression, but his gaze caught hers briefly before he turned forward again.

The multitudes held in that sparkling eye as it connected with hers! He had seen her tuck the ring away; seen that she had chosen to hide it, not in a pocket, not in her sleeve, but in such an intimate area, where it would be concealed, but very much felt.

She was glad of his notice; glad to see, in his smoldering blue eye, that mixture of awe and triumph and a hundred other emotions so knotted together she could not distinguish them all.

Emboldened by the deep understanding of this silent, charged exchange, Christine took a deep breath and steadied herself as they approached the opera house.

~~~~~

The carriage rolled around to the coach house and Christine felt sweat begin to prickle on her palms. She clutched hastily at her cloak to dry them. The roll slowed, and the conveyance lurched before finally coming to a halt.

As soon as the horses were still, the Phantom swept down from the driver's seat—performing this maneuver with an almost shocking speed and grace—and darted into the shadows. He paused only once, to glance back at her, before disappearing around the corner.

Swallowing and allowing her previous expression of distracted contemplation return, she climbed out of the barouche. She'd not taken three steps when...

"Christine!"

It was Raoul's voice. He was rushing toward her, his face in transition from an expression of extreme anxiety to one of profound alleviation. He must have awoken only shortly before their arrival; he looked very disheveled and hadn't properly dressed—just in his shirt, trousers, and shoes (how he'd slept the previous night)—in an evidently distraught haste to find her.

"Christine! Thank God, thank God!" He threw his arms around her, crushing her with the force of his relief. "My God, Christine, I looked everywhere for you," he said, taking the right side of her face in his hand. She appreciated the care in his touch, but it did not stir her. "I was so terrified, I thought—"

Christine cut him off. She knew exactly what he'd feared. "I'm sorry, Raoul." The apology was most sincere; she was not insensible of the alarm she'd caused him. How could she be when his concerned eyes darted across her face so? "I didn't mean to worry you. I'm perfectly fine," she said, placing her hand on his and gently pulling it away from her face. It felt wrong to let him touch, so easily, the exact place where the Phantom's cautious and supplicant hand had rested not an hour before.

Of course, Raoul couldn't know that what he held was no longer his (if, indeed, it ever truly had been), so she cloaked her motive in how she held his hand with care, conveying to him only reassurance that he need not worry for her. It seemed to her a natural enough response.

Raoul must not have found anything unusual in this action or in her eyes, because he simply held her to him again, hugging her fiercely. The force of it caused the Phantom's ring in her bodice to shift until it was nestled between her breasts. She had to work very hard not to gasp at this sensation.

"Where did you go at such an early hour?"

"To the cemetery; to visit my father," she replied, keeping her voice solemn and steady. Raoul would surely understand this desire.

"Of course," he said sympathetically. "But you..." He became still suddenly, like a stone, his eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder.

"Raoul? What…?" She turned to follow his gaze, already knowing that it rested on the empty driver's seat, and the horses, unattended to and still hitched to the carriage. He let go of her just as suddenly as he'd frozen and darted to the porter's office. Christine knew what he would find there: the porter, asleep.

Raoul turned to look at the barouche again, his mind working feverishly behind his eyes. "But then who...?" he wondered aloud, then exclaimed as enlightenment struck, "Dear God!" He rushed back to her and took hold of her shoulders. "What happened, Christine? Tell me exactly!" he demanded, his voice full of panic.

His eyes were intensely bright and paranoid. Christine knew it was out of concern for her safety, but it almost frightened her. She let herself feel that hint of fear as she replied in a tone of upset confusion.

"I-I came down and woke the porter," she started, her brow furrowing in concentration. "He was rather groggy—I think he must have fallen asleep drunk last night..." This was true; she had found him very much in that state, and there had been a great deal of partying with drink backstage during the masque. "I paid him and told him I wished to visit the cemetery, and then I went to dress and fetch a coat. When I came back, the carriage was ready, and I climbed in."

"Did you not see who was driving?"

"N-no, I didn't notice—it was foggy, and I was very much in my thoughts. Why...?"

Raoul's hands gripped her shoulders harder, shaking her slightly.

"The porter is asleep, Christine—he couldn't have driven you!"

She cast back to what her reaction to this leading revelation might have been twenty-four hours ago, gasping as if a horrifying conclusion had just dawned on her. "Raoul!" She clutched his forearms in terror, the exclamation a breathless whisper.

He held her to him again in a consoling embrace she knew too well. This was the first time she hadn't actually taken any comfort in it, but she pressed her hands to his shoulders as if she did all the same.

After a few moments he pulled away to look her in the face again. "Christine, why didn't you wake me?" he asked, his tone bewildered and reproachful. "If you wanted to visit your father's grave, you should have told me; I'd have gone with you."

She knew that.

I didn't want you to, she thought with a slight rush of irritation at his... obtuseness. But she mustn't say that to him out loud—not in so many words. "I... I just wanted to be alone, Raoul."

"You mustn't be so foolish," he told her, almost a reprimand. She didn't like it, and it must have shown on her face, because he then softened slightly. "I'm sorry, Christine, I don't mean to sound harsh; but really, you mustn't go off on your own! It's a miracle that... that monster didn't carry you away..."

Christine hid the surge of indignation she felt at his use of the epithet, fighting to keep it from breaking into her face, but she couldn't prevent her grip on his arms from tightening, harder than she believed possible of herself. She played it off as a fright. Raoul noticed. "Oh, Christine, don't think of it," he said soothingly, stroking her hair.

Then his expression became puzzled, his gaze drifting in thought. "But...why didn't he?" His eyes darted back to her, perplexed. "Why didn't he kidnap you?"

"I—" Christine's brow furrowed quite naturally, though there was no mystery for her to unravel. "I don't know, Raoul." Her voice was soft, trembling almost as if in fear. An expression of worry she did not feel stole over her face and into her eyes.

The enigma seemed to disturb Raoul even more than the potential danger, the lines in his brow deepening as he searched for an explanation. "Perhaps... perhaps his only goal was to taunt us…."

"But why? If I'm what he wants, why taunt us at all? Why would he not just... take me?" Something inside her quivered at her own choice of words.

"Hubris?" he suggested, his voice thick with contempt. "We already know how exceedingly arrogant he is."

Despite a clear measure of satisfaction in his own deduction, Raoul still looked disconcerted by the Phantom's apparently anomalous behavior.

He shook his head, and focused on Christine again. "Enough of that for now, dearest. Put it from your mind, as much as you can. Look at you," he lamented, stroking under her eye with his thumb. "You look as though you barely slept."

"I barely did sleep," she responded meekly. "I was too disturbed to get any rest. It was the reason I wanted to go to my father's grave. I always find a sense of solace there. I hoped a visit would help to calm my mind."

"Did it?"

"Yes, actually," Christine replied placidly. "More so than I had even expected."

This seemed to bring some relief to Raoul. He would not have been so eased by her words if he could know the true reason why the journey had brought her such serenity.

Christine almost felt ashamed.

Almost.

"Then I insist you go back to bed at once, and get some proper sleep," Raoul said firmly, in a tone that brooked no further comment as he linked her arm through his. "You must rest, Little Lotte."

Christine smiled at the nickname.

To Raoul this smile would look like one of fond reminiscence. But in truth, she'd grown tired of being called by her childhood nickname.

It was patronizing, and abrasive.

She was sure he'd not meant to be; that he said it out of a desire to draw her thoughts back to a time of ease and happiness. But she'd been living in that time with him for months, and dolls and goblins and shoes were no longer subjects with which she wished to occupy herself... not when she had the Angel of Music to sing songs in her head.

So she smiled. Not out of fondness for the name, but out of a sympathetic appreciation for the best reason he could have had for using it.

Raoul took a moment to wake the porter—who roused with a little difficulty and a bad headache but was, otherwise, perfectly unharmed, just as the Phantom had promised he would be—and help him see to the horses. The porter thanked the vicomte for his kind condescension and apologized profusely for his own negligence.

As this interaction took place, Christine stood with her arms crossed over her chest in the shadowy doorway which led back to the opera house proper, gazing at the corner around which the Phantom had disappeared.

"Brava, brava, bravissima~" a ghostly, melodious voice whispered from some dark corner nearby—or perhaps from within the very wall.

Christine's pulse raced and her breath shuddered at the sudden and unexpected sound of his voice, luxuriant with praise. She felt almost as though he were standing right behind her, and imagined feeling his breath on the back of her neck. She hugged herself little tighter, and the metal of the ring hidden in her bosom suddenly felt especially warm. She relished it, and wondered if he could see the blush rising in her face from wherever he was hidden.

She made no response other than these reactions, unable to risk Raoul noticing her talking, apparently, to herself; but Christine somehow knew that no other reply was needed—all was understood.

Raoul was soon finished with the porter, and, having told him that he would have more questions for him later, rejoined Christine (who had, by now, recomposed herself) and led her back inside.

On the way to the dormitory, they met Madame Giry, who was, of course, relieved to know that Christine was returned safely, and quite understanding of the fact that she had slept very poorly. All things considered, the girl could not be grudged a few hours more sleep.

When they reached the dormitory, Raoul kissed her once—uninhibited, as always—on the lips, and then again, on her forehead, before retreating so that she could undress. Would he guard her all day as well?

Once the door was closed and she was alone, she took the Phantom's ring out of its hiding place and admired it, fondling the warm metal between her still-chilly fingers just briefly before placing it under her pillow. She began to undress and, as she loosened the laces of her corset, stopped for a moment. He was there; she could always tell. Could he see her? Her face became very hot at the thought, but she resumed her action, her hands shaking when she unslotted the studs in the front of the corset to remove it, which she did without hesitation. Clad only in her cotton chemise, she crawled into her bunk, smiling, and lay down, rolling onto her side and curling up contentedly with half her face buried in her pillow.

She was very tired after the cold walk in the cemetery and from the tumult of emotions she'd experienced from midnight to dawn. The morning light now streaming in her window didn't bother her at all as she settled under her covers. She felt under her pillow for the gold ring and drew it out. The dark cat's eye stone it held had looked a rich bluish gray when she'd examined it in the faint light of dawn, but in the sunlight, it now seemed closer to green. She pondered this trick of the light briefly, and then kissed the treasured symbol before hiding it under the pillow again, holding it fast in her hand and drifting easily into the slumber that had evaded her the previous night.

~~~~~

In a passage beneath the opera house, the Phantom leaned against a wall; this, his first opportunity to properly examine the morning's haps and comprehend them—or attempt to.

The frames of the events swam in his head in total disorder, Christine's face the central feature of every picture. This was nothing new—but how changed everything else was.

Her performance in the carriage house had been magnificent.

Christine was not a devious creature by nature, he knew. Yet how perfectly she had beguiled the vicomte. How superbly she had played the mortified ingenue, clutching at her dashing hero and shaking in terror. It had so delighted him to watch her dupe the over-righteous whelp, that he had almost laughed aloud at how absolutely the gallant idiot had swallowed her affectations of dread.

She had followed his instructions exactly, and had met every query the damned fool had posed to her with aplomb. Further, she had used her own intuition to play to his boyish affection, while simultaneously deflecting his touches with such subtlety that the Phantom himself would almost have been convinced that nothing had changed in her feelings for her erstwhile lover, had he not known her face and mannerisms so well. He could see her underlying coolness at the vicomte's touch—especially because he could now compare it to the warmth she had exuded at his own.

The excellence of her acting and her nuanced defenses against the insolent boy's touches, however, did not mean that it had been easy to watch as he presumed to put his hands on Christine the way he did. Seeing him hold her or touch her face in such a cavalier manner had made him seethe, but when he'd shaken her, the Phantom had wanted nothing more than to cut the vicomte's hands off at his limp wrists. Christine had borne it dutifully, though. And all for his sake.

Only a very profound emotion could have compelled Christine Daaé to justify such willful falseness. And the boy had been utterly taken in. The young nobleman must truly never have known the joy of experiencing Christine's passion, even when they'd kissed so joyously on the rooftop—surely if he had, he would not have been able to mistake the sedate affection she had just now shown him for true love.

A small, hateful voice in the back of the Phantom's mind whispered for a moment that perhaps she was naturally deceitful and that it was he whom she was deceiving.

He beat that notion down.

He'd known her too long. Long before she'd had any idea there was a man behind the Angel of Music to deceive, she had shown daily in her behavior that the core of her character was both compassionate and honest.

And—he thought, a gentle weakness stealing over him—he could not disbelieve the instant, blushing exhilaration in her face as he had whispered his praise to her from the shadows (nothing like the timid humility she had always shown when he used to praise her as the Angel); or the trusting hand that had squeezed his, even as he acknowledged his guilt of murder.

Her expression of tenderness as he reached out and touched her face had been too ardent, the warmth in her eyes when he'd taken his ring from his finger and placed it on hers too pure. It was same welcoming warmth as when she'd first approached him and allowed him to fold her in his embrace. He couldn't bring himself to mistrust the earnestness with which she had clung to him and begged, with her breast heaving and rosy lips parted, for him to kiss her.

This could not be real—couldn't be true, he'd thought at the time. She could not be coming to him so readily... and yet could all of his senses delude him at once? Her voice requested, her eyes pleaded; her arms, her hands, clutched herself to him; and then, when, finally, he gave in to this astounding advance, her lips had guided his, and given them the courage which his doubt had tried to subdue.

He could still feel the reassuring warmth of her loving hand on his face, and then the heat of her mouth against his. The memories were a healing balm to his cracked soul.

It was too much, he thought now, as he slumped further against the wall. His legs felt weak just from remembering her pleasured moan as he'd gripped her waist, let his fingers dig into her, and forced the length of her body flush with his. Lust had begun to surge in him then, but nothing had risen from his passion because the emotion had just been too overwhelming. He'd not been prepared for the sensations to overpower him so. The reality of what was happening, of the fact that his hands had produced that sound from her--perhaps the very first time such a sound had ever escaped her--and the way it had poured right into his mouth... it had nearly crippled him. And then, at that vulnerable moment, he'd remembered that she had promised herself to that milksop of a vicomte! The only reason she did not wear Raoul de Chagny's ring was because he had stolen it from her neck. Surely then, this was a single kindness she'd chosen to bestow upon him—perhaps out of pity—which would never be repeated. His ardour had guttered in the cold wind of that thought.

But he'd been blessedly wrong. Her beseeching fervor had been wholly in earnest. There was a fire in her eyes as she affirmed it, and his all-but-extinguished passion had returned; but he had controlled it, though her zealous kiss had done its best to sorely test him.

And control had been difficult, but it was well worth the effort.

She'd come willingly to him, without shyness or apprehension, and it was even sweeter than in his dreams.

He couldn't have said exactly when the dreams had started—perhaps a little over a year ago—but it was around the time he'd begun to realize that the fondness and sense of kinship he felt for his protégé (emotions already so unique and foreign to him) had evolved into something much deeper; an intense love, a desperate longing, and he'd made up his mind to win her.

Whether the dreams had precipitated this epiphany, or been the results of it, he was equally unsure.

He allowed himself to sink to his knees in the shadowy passage; to sink into the truth of his fresh memories of the real Christine Daaé—not a siren in his imagination—actually seeking his love and offering hers in return.

She had come to him, imploring, "Kiss me, my Angel..."

It was not just a hope that he now held in his mind and hear as he knelt in the stygian shadows. The images in his thoughts were real, and they were just the beginning—a foretaste of a more complete union.

I will not leave you now.

She had declared herself for him, and the evidence of her blossoming desire, which had first begun to show themselves in his lair so many months ago, had all been made manifest in one morning—in her ruby lips; her dark, gleaming eyes; her enthusiastic kisses, her readiness to hold him and be held by him.

She had his ring... it had made him shake, to kiss that ring as it rested against her flawless knuckle, and the memory of seeing it there made him shake now. It was mere metal and stone, but it was his possession, and it was hers now. As he was.

All he was and all he had was entrusted to her, and she knew it. She accepted it; not only that, she kept the precious, gem-crowned band intimately close, even when she needed to hide it. The look on her face when she'd glanced up and seen him watching as the ring disappeared under the black, trimmed neckline, cut so very low—how his veins had sung at that moment! Deeply intimate, subtly erotic... and then the fervent sweetness with which she kissed it as she went to sleep....

She was his, and he would have her completely soon enough, he felt confident (he allowed himself confidence, but dared not presume certainty)—but all in time.

At the right time.

~~~

Author's Notes

#poto fanfiction #when the longing returns #erik x christine #phantom of the opera fanfiction #poto e/c #eristine #e/c

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iwouldlovetobreackitoyou · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter Eighteen: "Deal."

“I can’t believe that. What could possibly be worse?” Madam Rosmerta’s voice drifted through my left ear.

“You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,” Professor McGonagall muttered in a sombre way. “Do you remember who his best friend was?” Professor McGonagall asked Madam Rosmerta.

“Azure, is everything all right?” Fred asked from across the short table. “Just listening.” I said vaguely. Fred’s eyebrows knitted together and was about to open his mouth to say more before I shushed him.

“Naturally,” Madam Rosmerta started. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here-“ Madam Rosmerta reminisced with a humorous smile. “Ooh, they make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!” I became frozen as I sat there and listened to the table, so hooked on what they had to say that it took Fred shaking my laid out hand to pull me back to him.

“What’re they saying?” Fred asked eagerly.

“They’re talking about my dad, and Harry’s dad.” I told him cautiously, feeling I would be caught at any moment for eavesdropping.

“What?” Fred asked.

“I know.” I told him.

“Precisely,” McGonagall said. “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course-exceptionally bright, in fact-but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers-“

“I dunno,” Hagrid cut in with a chuckle. “Fred and George Weasley with Azurielle Black could give ‘em a run fer their money.”

“Rubeus!” McGonagall said in a warning tone. “We’re not meant to call her that.” McGonagall’s mouth formed a tight, flat line as she looked at Hagrid.

“Azurielle…Black?” Madam Rosmerta questioned the table and the three staff members and Cornelius Fudge went silent.

“Sirius’ daughter.” McGonagall confirmed. “But she goes by her mother’s last name because of her real surnames…stigma.” I watched as Madam Rosmerta became sullen in her seat.

“Poor girl. Grew up without ‘er mother and father.” Hagrid commented before taking a swig of his drink. My blood ran cold but I felt furious at their pity. I could feel my claws threatening to break out from where my fingernails dug into the table. “You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” Professor Flitwick piped up. “Inseparable!”

“Of course they were,” Fudge agreed. “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Azurielle and Harry have no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment them.” Fudge finished just as my stomach hit the floor of the Three Broomsticks. My was breathing heavy. I needed to get the Hell out of there.

Snow was falling heavier than before as I trudged back to Honeydukes. I was almost there before Fred’s hand caught hold of mine and whipped me around.

“Where are you going?” Fred asked baffled. “What’s wrong?” He asked. I stared at him and I knew my eyes flashed at him with his faltering expression.

“I’m sorry,�� I said to him. “But I really should be going back to the castle.”

“Why?” Fred pleaded. “What happened in there?” Fred asked and I pulled him a fair ways down a side street.

“Fred, I don’t know how else to put it,” I started. “But my dad is Harry’s godfather.” I said breathlessly. I watched as Fred’s eyes flew open into saucers.

“Pardon?”

“That’s what they said!” I told him, border lining hysterics. I watched as Fred’s face soon fell into understanding, and next thing I knew, his chin sat atop my head, and his long arms were wrapped around me. Gods, he was so warm, comforting, familiar. I gave into him and wrapped my arms around his waist. As I let out a shuddering breath, I held onto him even tighter.

We stayed like that for a while longer, neither of us daring to let the other go. But as I leaned back from Fred, he kept a firm grasp on my waist and concern flooded his features.

“Will you be okay?” Fred asked.

“I will be,” I promised Fred. “But I should really be going, it’s getting awfully late.” I said just as the wind picked up causing my hair to whip in my face.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Fred said with a warm smile as he tucked a few strands of my hair out of my face. My breath hitched at his touch and my cheeks burned. I felt even more flustered as I caught a glimpse of Fred’s reddening cheeks. Fred then cleared his throat before stepping away.

“I’ll see you soon.” I farewelled with a giddy smile before disappearing into Honeydukes.

It didn’t take long to get into the passageway and back up to the castle. My mind was racing at the thought of my dad being Harry’s godfather, which makes him my godbrother. Oh, Gods, Harry’s my godbrother.

I found myself standing outside of Remus’ office with a newfound fury at the discovery that my life was still so full of secrets, so many rabbit holes that formed one monstrous maze. When Remus opened the door after an incessant hammering from me, alarmed was what I could recognise on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked Remus. He cocked his head to the side.

“Tell you what?” But by his tone I could tell he had an inkling of what I was asking him.

“You know what!” I raised my voice and Remus back up a few steps into his office. I followed him and slammed the door with a waved of my hand. “Why has no one told me that my dad is the godfather to Harry Potter!” My eyes were ablaze and my claws and teeth became present.

“Azure, just calm dow-“

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I yelled at Remus, but when I saw the hurt in his eyes I took a deep breath. “Why is there still rabbit holes of information still missing from my life, Remus?” I asked him and a lump formed in my throat. “Not even Izaya has told me and he’s my guardian!” I said in disbelief. That’s when the first tear fell, then a second, then a third, then a whole cascade of tears started to fall down my face. My sobs echoed around the room for a minute before they were muffled into Remus shoulder as he hugged me.

“We were going to tell you,” Remus started and soon his hand was combing through my thick hair. “We just didn’t know when, and we didn’t know how you’d react.” Remus said softly as he soothed me as I cried into his shoulder. My claws and teeth had subsided by now, but my tears were still flooding my vision.

“But think about it this way,” Remus started as he gripped my shoulders and brought me to arm’s length. “You-somewhat-have a brother now.” Remus said softly.

“Harry? No, he could never be.” I cried to Remus.

“What’re you talking about? Of course he can.” Remus said as his brows cinched together.

“You haven’t seen the hate, the rage in his eyes when he talks about him, or when he hears his name, Remus.” My voice broke on his name and more tears escaped my eyes. It was an impossible thought, to have Harry Potter as my godbrother.

“You may never know. People change,” Remus reassured as he started to walk me towards the door to his office. “Now, how about you go down and have some dinner. Fred should be waiting for you there, especially after that little date you had today.” Remus said with an amused smile.

“How do you know about that?” I blanched at him and grabbed hold of my necklace.

“I saw you two walk into the Three Broomsticks without George,” Remus said and his shoulders straightened slightly. “Now, go to dinner.” Remus instructed, and promptly I left his office and made my way down to the Great Hall.

On my way down I dried my eyes and attempted to take control of my breathing. It was easier said than done, just as it was easier said than done to not body slam into someone rounding one of the corridor corners.

Before I could get a word out, I saw the mess of raven hair and glasses. Harry. The blood drained from my face as Harry stared up at me, a new form of hatred created specifically for me laid heavily in his eyes.

“Hey, Harry,” I greeted with fake optimism. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?” I asked him and shoved my hands into my coat pockets.

“Just got back from Hogsmeade.” Harry replied and pushed his glasses further up his nose with his pointer finger.

“Was it everything you expected?” I asked Harry with a wide smile.

“Yeah, it was,” Harry started awkwardly, then I watched as Harry’s shoulders squared. “I actually heard something while I was at the Three Broomsticks.” Harry explained, then his angry eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help but to stare back at him in waiting.

“And what was that?” I asked, but the tremble in my voice gave away my innocent curiosity.

“I found out that our dads were quite the good friends, and that Sirius Black is my-“ But Harry couldn’t finish what he was saying, but I knew what he was to say.

“Your godfather.” I finished for him. Harry looked at me alarmed. “I think we heard the same conversation, Harry.”

“I guess so, then,” Harry said and I took note of the way his fingers fidgeted at his sides. “Guess that makes us family.” Harry ended bitterly.

“I guess so.” I muttered as I brought my hands before me and twisted the rings on my fingers. We stood there in awkward silence for a lot longer than what I would have liked before I broke the ice.

“Well, I better get going.” I dismissed myself and was out of sight before Harry could even utter a word.

As I walked through the doors of the Great Hall I looked for Fred in the sea of heads along the Gryffindor table. When I finally found him, it was as if he knew I was looking for him as he turned around and his gaze fell upon me. It was like a wave of relief flooded over me when I took a seat in between Fred and George, but soon turned anxious as Harry Potter took a direct seat across from me.

Ron and Hermione didn’t dare utter a word to Harry, and neither did I. All I wanted was for today to be over and for the Christmas holiday break to start.

Despite Fred and George talking about how they were going to set off a ton of Dungbombs off in the Gryffindor common room, I kept my head down even though I could feel Harry’s eyes burning holes into my forehead.

When I got up from the table, the twins followed and bid me adieu as we made our ways to our respected common rooms. I only felt true relief from Harry’s stare when I was within the security of the Hufflepuff common room, but now I was dreading and rehearsing what I would say to Izaya once I got back home.

Packing up a duffle bag went by in a blur, only really stopping to gaze down at the picture frame that beheld my mother and I in it. Then a simmering rage started to bubble within me, like molten lava rising and ready to erupt at any moment.

When Charlotte, Abby and Tara entered the room, we all shared some sweets we had purchased from Honeyduke’s that day and I told them all about mine and Fred’s time in the Three Broomsticks, spare from the part about finding out that my father was Harry Potter’s Godfather.

Charlotte was the most enthralled with my gossip, along with Abby in her own shy way. Tara on the other hand couldn’t help but tease me about it all, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her.

As we all started to calm down, we each said good night to each other and drew our curtains closed around our beds. I had slept fitfully that night; waking to only discover an hour or-so had passed by.

When it had become the early hours of the next morning I made quick work of dressing myself, grabbing my duffle bag and walking out the dorm room. I took a seat in front of the fire and watched it for a while, savouring the sound of the wood crackling and popping as it burned.

I kept track of time as I watched the sun peak out through the snow-filled clouds and shone through the half-moon windows at the top of the wall behind the fireplace. As I looked down at my watch, it had finally ticked passed seven o’clock, just in time to grab some breakfast and hitch a ride to Hogsmeade station.

The twins met up with me at the Gryffindor table, but before long we were off for Hogsmeade. Fred took the liberty to carry my small duffle bag, even at my upmost protests.

As we arrived at Hogsmeade, we had joined a large group of students waiting for the Hogwarts Express to make her arrival. The three of us joined in on making bets on who would win the round of Gobstones that a second year Hufflepuff boy and Gryffindor girl were playing, and surprisingly, the Hufflepuff boy won.

I lost that bet.

When the Hogwarts Express arrived Fred, George and myself made quick haste to occupy an empty compartment. Once inside, we decided to play a game of Exploding Snap to pass the time.

Fred and I sat closely on the Express, even intertwining our fingers which, in turn, earned an immense teasing from George.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation and turn particularly rosy as I sneaked a glance at Fred, who’s cheeks mirrored mine.

When George left to mingle and cause chaos across the length of the train, Fred and I chatted. I even ended up resting my head on his shoulder comfortably and watched the horizon race by.

“Will you visit the Burrow for Christmas?” Fred asked and I could detect the slight nervousness in his voice. I cast my gaze upwards and a large toothy grin spread across my face.

“What kind of question is that?” I asked dumfounded. “Of course, I will. When haven’t I?” I asked Fred, then a relaxed smile graced his features.

“I thought I’d ask anyways,” Fred defended then slung an arm over my shoulder. “Shouldn’t I ask if my girlfriend will attend Christmas at my home?” Time stood still. Girlfriend?

“Is that what I am now?” I asked hopeful.

“Of course, you are.” Fred said and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

“Well, that makes you my boyfriend.” I stated the obvious and a giddy smile took over Fred’s face. All I could think about in that moment was how smitten I was with him, and I let that thought be the only thing I thought about through the whole train ride.

I hadn’t even noticed I had drifted off to sleep until I was being gently shook awake. When I was about to make a grumbled response to my waker, all grumpiness subsided in an instant when I saw Fred looking down at me.

As we made our way off of the Hogwarts express, I could hear none other than Molly Weasley greeting Ginny and Percy. Molly even pulled me into a bone crushing embrace before Izaya’s voice cut through the sea of students and parents.

“Azurielle, there you are!” Izaya called before I felt his hand touch my shoulder. Despite still feeling a guttural rage within, it was good to see him.

“Hey, Izaya,” I greeted him with a smile and watched as he scanned our little circle before he laned on Arthur Weasley.

“Get the day off, Arthur?” Izaya asked.

“To pick up the kids? Absolutely!” Arthur responded before the two men shook hands in greeting.

“Will you two be coming around for Christmas?” Molly piped up from in between Percy and George.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I said to Molly while Fred and I snuck glances at each other.

“Well, we better head off then,” Izaya begun. “See you tomorrow, Arthur.” Izaya farewelled before he took hold of my small duffle bag and turned to leave.

For the first time, in the entirety I had known Fred, I didn’t want to leave him. It felt wrong to.

“I’ll see you at Christmas, then.” Fred said and grabbed a hold of my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I guess so.” I said warmly and squeezed his hand back.

“See you.” Fred said and pulled me into a melting hug. I savoured the way I felt wrapped up around him, his scent, his heartbeat.

“See you.” I farewelled as we pulled back from each other. I hadn’t noticed that Izaya had been a few paces away until he called out to me.

“You coming, Azurielle?” Izaya asked from over his shoulder.

“Coming!” I yelled back. I took one last look at Fred, studying his features before running after Izaya. We walked for a few moments in silence, long enough that we reached a secluded area of platform nine and three-quarters. Izaya and I were silent for longer than I would have liked before we held each other in a death grip and disapparated from the platform.

It was as if I was being tugged from every direction while simultaneously being crushed by the atmosphere. Everything went back and I felt my stomach do flips. It was like being suffocated and being stretched across the room, but before long, I could feel solid ground beneath my feet.

It was a welcomed sight to see my living room again. I doubled over as nausea set, bracing myself on my knees as I focused on the dark hardwood floors of Izaya’s old Victorian home.

“I forget you’re not used to Apparating,” Izaya said and leant my duffle bag near the archway that lead to the foyer. “Are you all right?” Izaya asked earnestly and grasped my shoulder.

“I will be,” I said and shut my eyes as the world spun around me. “I forget it feels like that.”

“Disapparting doesn’t feel as bad when you’re the one doing it.” Izaya said and made his way into the kitchen. I followed after him and watched as he wandlessly lit the stove and brought a kettle down to bowl.

“Some Chamomile tea will ease your stomach,” Izaya said and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard that sat under the wood framed window that engulfed the kitchen in the late afternoon sun. “And my pounding head.”

For the first time today, I actually took note of how Izaya looked. His usually neat hair was ruffled and the bags under his eyes were quite dark. His suit that he wore to work was wrinkled beyond compare, as if he hasn’t been bothered to uphold his reputation of being immaculately tidy.

Even the kitchen was messy. Teacups, dishes and cutlery covered the counter tops and had filled the sink to the brim. The few herbs I had planted were borderline withering. I wondered if he had spent much time at home while I was at Hogwarts. Maybe that was the reason why he hadn’t been writing to me as much this year.

“When was the last time you were home?” I asked him as the kettle simmered. Izaya was quiet for a moment too long before he answered.

“It’s been about two weeks,” Izaya said through a sigh just as the kettle started to squeal. “The Ministry has had me travelling around a lot because a group of Vampires decided it would be great fun to drain half of Bradford and Goblins are striking across the country. Plus, I’ve had to run a census for the ‘Being’s Department’ because there are so many magical creatures just in England alone.” Izaya said exasperated while he poured boiling water into our mugs.

“Seems you need a holiday.” I said to Izaya who agreed with a hum as he passed a mug to me. We both took sips of our tea quietly, basking in the calmness that our home brought us.

“I might retire early tonight. I’ve got big day at the Ministry tomorrow and I promised Arthur I’d meet with him early because he wants to discuss something about a post box that’s shredding a muggles’ mail.” Izaya said as his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, alright then.” I said and Izaya left the kitchen, taking a right turn into the foyer and walking upstairs. I was left standing in that kitchen, happy to have some alone time as I drank my tea and gazed out the window.

I missed the view of the stoney river that ran along the side of the house. I missed being so close to the woods and the stillness of it all. It was a drastic change from the hustle and bustle of the Hogwarts castle, that’s for sure.

I could openly listen to the Gwydir Forest without having to worry about sudden loud noises, and I could run for miles in that forest without a worry that someone would spot me.

Izaya truly had picked the best spot to live and build his house just outside of Betws-y-Coed.

“What do you mean you were never going to tell me?” I yelled at Izaya who sat opposite me at the dining table.

“I just didn’t know how to tell you,” Izaya defended. “And please keep your voice down, the full moon is in three days. You know how we get.” Izaya warned as he rubbed his head to soothe a growing migraine.

“I just think it’s crazy that you would keep something like this from me,” I said, and a lump formed in my throat. “My dad is Harry’s godfather, and everyone just decided not to even tell me, y’know, the daughter of the supposed godfather,” I huffed out and felt more furious by the second. “I at least thought you would tell me, Izaya.”

“I was going to, trust me, I was. But if you hadn’t noticed, I have been rather busy with the Ministry that I haven’t even been home to write to you.” Izaya tried to reason, but if there was something Izaya knew about me was that there was no trying to reason with a teen Skinwalker on the cusp of a full moon. I took a deep breath in an attempt to simmer the boiling rage inside before I stood up and turned to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Izaya called as he stood up, his chair scraping against the hard wood floor.

“Away.” I answered and began to walk out of the dining room.

“Away from what?”

“Away from you!” I turned around, teeth and claws out on display. Then the sound of glass cracking cut through the tension. Izaya turned slowly to find the glass in the cabinet’s doors that stood in the corner of the dining room had cracked. Damn uncontrollable magic.

Izaya’s frustration towards me soon turned to concern as his head swiveled back to me. I hadn’t even noticed that his own claws were gripping the edge of the table and the back of his chair to look at the cabinet that sat in the corner of the dining room. My eyes flashed emerald green at Izaya before storming up to my room.

I paced for a while, not knowing what to do next. I looked around, taking in a few quidditch posters, my cluttered desk and my Nimbus 2000 that stood next to my window. My hands raked through my dark hair furiously. I never meant for that fight to get so out of hand. All because I asked if he knew that Sirius was Harry’s godfather, to which Izaya responded with a simple ‘Yes, I know’.

How could he not say anything? Not even bring it up when I visited Remus at his home before the school year started. Why was it such a big deal that my dad was Harry’s godfather? Because he was sent to Azkaban? Because he escaped Azkaban? Or because what he was accused of doing sent him to Azkaban?

I shook my head to break my chain of thought and started to pack my duffle bag again. As I was throwing on my black fur lined suede jacket, my eyes drifted to the window and saw that it was starting to snow. I swallowed dryly and grabbed my quidditch goggles and gloves and shoved them on my hands and head.

Then my hand grabbed the neck of my broom, and suddenly, I felt a tremor run down my arm. I looked at the broom for a while until Brix screeched from her perch next to my bed. When I turned to her my heartstrings pulled at the sight of her big amber eyes.

She hooted softly as I made my way to her and allowed her to nibble my finger gently.

“I can’t leave you here, and you can’t fly in this weather. The storm will only get worse from here on out,” I told Brix and opened my jacket. Brix jumped onto my extended finger, as if knowing what I was to do next. “Come on, then. I bet the Weasley’s miss you.” I said and placed her inside my jacket before tying it closed with the wrap around strap.

I then pulled my duffle bag on like a backpack before wrapping my Hufflepuff scarf around my neck, looping it so it would cover the lower half of my face. When I opened my bedroom window I was hit with the howling wind. It knocked me back and couple of steps even with my attempts to brace myself.

I took a deep breath, pulled my goggles and hood down and leaped into the open air.

The broom met the inside of my thighs and snow dusted my cheeks where the goggles and scarf didn’t meet. I felt Brix ruffle inside my jacket and I placed a gentle hand over my jacket where she was nestled. I smiled under my scarf and continued my five hour broom flight to the Burrow.

My one and only stop was somewhere in Deer Park before I was flying over Devon. The countryside was covered in a thick layer of snow by the time I was getting close to the Burrow.

When my eyes spotted the lopsided house I let out an audible sigh if relief, happy that I would be out of the shivering cold soon. I dove down towards the ground, only hearing the wind in my ears. I pulled the nose of the broom upwards towards the sky at the last minute, using the momentum from the downfall to speedily make my way to the Burrow’s front gate.

As I approached, I jumped off the broom but stood outside of the gate. It was the early hours of the morning, there was a thin green line across the horizon where the sun was barely waking up.

When I stopped looking at the horizon, I let myself into the front yard.

Snow crunched under my combat boots as I made my way to the front door. I stomped off the snow as much as possible before letting myself inside.

A fire was still burning in the hearth as I leant my broom next to the door. I sighed in relief as the initial bite of the cold started to thaw away. When my bag hit the floor, I heard booming footsteps upstairs and soon Arthur appeared at the top of the stairs with his wand pointing to my chest, ready to cast.

“Azurielle?” Arthur asked flabbergasted and continued down the last few steps. “What in the bloody Hell are you doing here?” Arthur asked and gripped both my shoulders then looked at the Grandfather clock that stood next to us. “Especially at this hour?” For once in my life, I didn’t have an answer for him.

“I-um…” I stammered before Molly’s voice was heard upstairs.

“Arthur, who’s there?” Molly voice rang through the house. Arthur and I stared at each other before he answered.

“It’s Azurielle, everything’s alright!” Arthur called back to her and a quiet ‘okay’ was heard before the house was silent once more.

“You’re frozen. How about a cup of tea?” Arthur asked, yet it was more of a statement.

“That would be great, thanks.” I said and untied my jacket, careful to catch Brix as she fell out of it, fast asleep. I placed her on a perch near the stairs before I let my goggles hang from my neck.

“I’ll bring it to you by the fire.” Arthur said softly with a fatherly smile. I smiled back before taking my boots off and took a spot on their settee in the living room.

The fire’s heat wafted over me like a warm blanket. I sat down with my legs crossed and watched the fire quietly. The events of last night played like a broken record in my head, just over and over again. The entire fight-if you could even call it that-seemed all so pointless at this very moment. Even running away from home seemed pointless as I was getting over my minor frost bite.

“Now,” Arthur began as he handed me a teacup that was decorated with bluebell flowers. My teacup. He always gave me this one when I visited the Burrow. “Why have you flown for five hours here by broom?”

“I wanted to come a bit early for Christmas.” I lied and bit the inside of my cheek.

“Azurielle.” Arthur drawled out in that fatherly sort of way. I retracted from him slightly and let out a huff.

“Izaya and I had a fight,” I said and rested the teacup against my thigh. “I just wanted to get away and I knew I’d be here for Christmas, so I just…came.” I ended with a shrug and stared at the fire.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Arthur started after taking a sip of his tea. “What was the fight about?” Arthur leaned in slightly, earnestly. I faltered slightly at his question. Should I even tell him? I took a breath before answering.

“My dad is the godfather to someone I know.” I said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth either.

“Right?”

“And Izaya knew and didn’t tell me,” I began. “It feels like a bigger deal to me than what Izaya thinks. He said he was going to tell me but I think Izaya never was going to. Ever.” I said to Arthur and he nodded in understanding.

“Who is it?” Arthur asked and leaned back into the settee. He doesn’t know.

“I’d rather not say,” I told Arthur. “But, knowing about more family is a plus for me.” I admitted to him and drank more of my tea.

“I can understand that,” Arthur started and wrapped me in a one-armed hug. “But maybe you should take the floo network back to your house after Christmas. Make amends with Izaya.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I said and sunk the rest of my drink.

It was at least seven-thirty in the morning by now. Molly and Percy were already up and about. Molly making breakfast for all of us after she welcomed me while Percy and Arthur read their separate copies of the Daily Prophet.

Soon, Ginny joined us downstairs also and we caught up like usual. I always saw her like a little sister. Quite a fiery little sister none the less. Ginny and I were talking over some French toast Molly made before the sound of Fred and George making their entrance cut through the tranquil morning.

“Good morning.” Fred and George sang over the dining table. Ginny and I turned around and said good morning to them also. I watched as Fred literally stop in his tracks at the sight of me. His face was a mix of shock and joy as he eagerly sat next to me.

“You made it!” Fred said excitedly and piled some eggs and bacon onto his plate.

“I told you,” I said after swallowing a bite of French toast. “I wouldn’t miss Christmas with the Weasley’s for the world!” I said giddy then dropped my voice for only us to hear. “Especially since my boyfriend is a Weasley.” Fred gave me a wink and we continued to eat our breakfast.

I had nearly forgotten how much Molly loved to decorate The Burrow for Christmas. There were leafy garlands and tinsel wrapped around the stair bannisters, stockings hung on the fireplace mantle and snow globes were consistently ‘snowing’ on the inside, and the Christmas tree, Gods, the Christmas tree.

It was the most beautiful focal point of the whole house, even if it was over-decorated with baubles, tinsel and a few moving pictures of the Weasley’s were stuck on homemade ornaments. I could just imagine everyone, minus Ron, Bill and Charlie, fussing over and placing every bauble and ornament they could find onto the tree. Even the star that stood on the very top sparkled every now and then, definitely something Arthur magicked upon it.

Even Molly was able to conjure up a feast for breakfast, but that was only the beginning for the several rounds of food she’d pop out today.

“Alright everyone,” Molly called over our chatting. “I think it’s time to gather around the tree and start giving gifts!” Molly said excitedly. The lot of us raced over and truly felt the warmth of the fire. Fred and I took spots next to each other on the settee, George and Ginny sat on the floor in front of us, Arthur was in his armchair next to us and Molly and Percy were playing Santa.

One by one Molly called our names and handed us a round of soft wrapped gifts.

We all ripped into our gifts and unsurprisingly, there were hand knitted jumpers with the first initial of our names on them. Even though I had gotten one of Molly’s knitted jumpers, it still made me tear up a little bit to think she really thought of me as a member of her family.

My jumper was of sangria purple with an ‘A’ knitted in pale orange. I loved getting these jumpers every year, and I still have all of them at home. Home. Poor Izaya, waking up on Christmas alone at home. I felt the guilt start to set in as I pulled the jumper over my head. I knew that he knew where I was, but now that I thought about it, I shouldn’t have left.

I was snapped out of my train of thought as another present was plopped into my lap and was keen to tear it open.

“That one’s from me.” Fred said cheerily as he waited for me to open the box that was once wrapped in paper decorated in snowflakes. I looked at him as I opened the box, too nervous to look down. “Go on, then.” Fred urged and only then did I look down at the most beautiful titanium bracelet I had ever seen.

It had a simple woven chain with a crescent moon charm attached to it. Within the moon charm, there was cut outs of a swirling design and paw print. A little on the nose, but stunning, nonetheless.

“Oh, Fred,” I started. I wanted to say something, anything, but the bracelet rendered me speechless as I delicately lifted the limp chain from the jewellery box and stared at it. “It’s gorgeous, thank you.” I said and unclasped it to put it on.

“Allow me, darling.” Fred insisted and took the liberty of clasping it around my wrist. I looked at it, studying the coolness of it against my skin, glad that my skin wasn’t sizzling and burning if it were silver. The titanium shimmered in the firelight as I twisted my wrist, wanting to see it from all angles.

“Ahh, Freddie, this one’s from Azure.” George said as Percy passed a smaller box to him, who passed it to Fred.

“I know it’s not as persona-“

“Azurielle, any gift from you is personal.” Fred said and ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a smallish box. In huge, yellow lightning bolt letters read:

Buzzer Shock Ring. Wind it up, slip it onto your finger and shake hands!

“What is this muggle thing?” Fred asked as he took the hand buzzer out of the package.

“You want me to show you?” I said mischievously as Fred handed me the buzzer.

“It’s called a hand buzzer,” I started and began to wind up the dial of the buzzer. “All you have to do is this,” I explained as I then slid into onto my middle finger and held out my hand. The only give away was a metal ring on my finger but seemed in place due to the many rings on my hand. “Shake my hand, would ya.” I told Fred, and without thinking, he instantly shook my hand.

A low hum sounded and a powerful vibration ran up Fred’s arm before he yanked his hand away. Fred yelped and cradled his hand before he go that gleam in his eyes, the one that told me he was already planning his next prank.

“Wicked.” Fred and George said in unison as they looked at me in awe.

“I dare say, some muggles are quite clever and do have a sense of humour,” I said with a giggle and handed Fred back his present. “Arthur would love that.”

“I’d love what?” Arthur said from beside us. But before I could say anything, Fred was already off the settee and demanding his father to shake his hand, which Arthur foolishly accepted before he too got ‘shocked.’

“How about we go do something tomorrow?” Fred suggested from next to me on the settee. We were the only two still awake and basking in the warmth of the fire.

“Like what? I promised Ginny I’d give her more horse riding lessons.” I said to Fred and recalled how she practically begged to let her take a ride on me while in my horse form.

“Like taking a trip into Devon, I wanted to have a walk around the little shire.” Fred said and casually rested his arm on the back of the settee.

“You…want to go for a walk?” I asked him and saw a sly smile grace his lips.

“I’d like to go for a walk with you, darling.” Fred said and tugged me to fall on him. Fred then hooked his arm on my shoulder and seemed to relax further into the plush settee pillows. I more than gladly snuggled into him as we watched the fire’s flames dance around each other.

“As long as we don’t get snowed in.” I said to Fred, remembering how hard it had been snowing today, at least five inches worth.

“Deal.” Fred said and his fingers absentmindedly played with the ends of my hair. It was a soothing gesture, and I wished we could stay here for eternity and it felt like eternity as my world faded to black, getting the most restful sleep I had ever gotten in a long time.

Word count: 6621

Last edit: 26.09.2024

Chapter nineteen - Coming Soon!

Masterlist

#fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #fred and george #fred weasley #sirius black #harry potter oc #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #pro severus snape #severus snape #christmas

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leffee · 5 months ago

Note

Vinnie wandered through the fields, his eyes scanning the endless sea of greenery. It was a warm summer day, and the sun beat down on the landscape, painting everything in golden hues. As he walked, something caught his eye—a flash of vibrant yellow amidst the green.

Curious, Vinnie approached cautiously, unsure of what he would find. As he drew closer, he realized it was a sunflower standing tall and proud, its petals reaching towards the sky. He had seen sunflowers before, of course, but there was something different about this one. It seemed to glow with an inner light, radiating warmth and happiness.

Mesmerized, Vinnie reached out a hand to touch the soft petals, marveling at their silky texture. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the flower, feeling as though he was being drawn into its beauty.

Excitedly, Vinnie dashed back through the fields, his heart racing with the anticipation of sharing his discovery with his friends. He couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces when they saw the magnificent sunflower.

But as he reached the spot where he had left the sunflower, his heart sank. The vibrant yellow petals were nowhere to be seen, and the spot where the sunflower had stood tall was now empty.

Confusion and disappointment flooded over Vinnie. How could it be gone so suddenly? Had someone picked it, or had it simply vanished into thin air?

Frantically, Vinnie searched the area, hoping against hope that he would find some trace of the sunflower. But no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of it.

Feeling defeated, Vinnie sank to the ground, his spirits as wilted as the flower he had come to love. He had been so eager to share his discovery, so excited to show his friends the beauty he had found. And now, it was gone, vanished without a trace.

As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, Vinnie felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw his friends gathered around him, concern etched on their faces.

"What's wrong, Vinnie?" Russell asked.

Vinnie sighed, struggling to find the words to explain. "I found the most amazing sunflower," he said softly. "But when I came back to show you, it was gone."

His friends exchanged glances, sympathy evident in their eyes..

Just then Penny Ling rounded the corner, her eyes lit up with excitement, and she held the sunflower delicately in her hand.

"Hey, guys, look what I found!" she exclaimed, displaying the flower proudly. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

Vinnie's heart sank for a moment as he realized that Penny had been the one to pick the sunflower. He had hoped it would remain in the field for everyone to enjoy.

"Penny, you picked it?" Vinnie asked, trying to keep disappointment out of his voice.

Penny nodded, her smile faltering as she sensed Vinnie's disappointment. "I'm sorry, Vinnie. I didn't know.”

Vinnie sighed, but then he smiled warmly at Penny. "It's okay, Penny. It's still beautiful, and I'm glad you found it."

With a heavy heart, Vinnie quietly excused himself from the group and began to walk away.

As he walked, Vinnie couldn't shake the sense of disappointment that lingered within him. He had been so excited to share the sunflower with his friends, but now that moment had been tainted by the knowledge that it had been picked without consideration for his feelings.

Lost in his thoughts, Vinnie wandered aimlessly through the fields, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet afternoon air. He knew he should forgive Penny and move on, but the sting of disappointment was hard to shake.

After what felt like an eternity, Vinnie found himself at the edge of the field, gazing out at the vast expanse of greenery stretching out before him. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape.

Vinnie turned and made his way back to his friends. As he rejoined them, he plastered a smile on his face, determined not to let his disappointment overshadow the rest of the day.

As Vinnie rejoined the group, Sunil noticed the lingering sadness in his friend's eyes. Sensing that something was amiss, Sunil gently pulled Vinnie aside.

"Hey, Vinnie, are you okay?" Sunil asked, his voice filled with concern.

Vinnie forced a smile, not wanting to burden his friend with his feelings. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied quietly, but Sunil could see through the facade.

Without another word, Sunil wrapped Vinnie in a tight hug, offering silent support and understanding. Vinnie hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace, grateful for Sunil's comforting presence.

"I really liked that flower," Vinnie admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sunil tightened his embrace, understanding the weight of Vinnie's emotions without needing any further explanation. "I know, Vinnie. I know," he murmured softly, his voice filled with empathy and reassurance.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, finding solace in each other's presence, before finally releasing each other and rejoining the group.

Bro I've been holding onto this one for a while, haven't I? Part of the reason is because I wanted to find something else to talk about here but I honestly think I already said everything I wanted when I dm'd you right when I got it and started yapping :'). I think I even said something about Vinnie liking sunflowers cause he likes the sun cause he likes being warm and you know SUNflowers. But just in case I didn't - it's here.

I don't like leaving those without any additional comments but I genuinely think I have already told you everything I had directly. See, that's why I need to stop being so impulsive with those cause instead of properly replying in those asks I do it in dm's and then have nothing else to say xd.

But here it is for anyone else that might want to read it ^^.

#asks #lps 2012

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brendaaaa · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Dreams (Miles Fairchild x gn!Reader)

You jolted awake, immediately sitting up in your bed.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, chest heaving as you desperately tried not to replay the horrid night terror.

You pulled your blankets tight around you, even though your body was hot, very sweaty and overheated.

You were situated in a guest room in the Fairchild manor. You had been staying there since last Monday, choosing to take your spring break vacation with some of your favorite people. Miles was your best friend, and had been since you were both little.

As you looked around in the darkness, the cold and empty room unfriendly, you wished more than anything he was right here with you. As a friend, of course. You and Miles...weren’t like that.

But while he was bitter and sometimes even cruel to most other people, he was always such a gentleman to you. You were certain that if he were here right now, he’d be hugging you, pulling you into his arms, stroking your back gently, talking to you in a low, soothing tone.

You shivered, suddenly feeling quite alone and scared. You were no stranger to nightmares, and this one had been plaguing you off and on for almost six months now. Miles was the only one you had confided about it in. You felt that he was the only one who would understand. He’d been perfect. Empathetic, concerned, all the right things.

Yet another reason why you were craving for Miles to comfort you right now.

His room wasn’t that far away, only a few doors down. The only thing holding you back was the weird note the two of you had left on before going to bed.

You had kissed Miles on the cheek goodnight. You went up on your tiptoes, and pressed a kiss on his smooth cheekbone.

He hadn’t responded, with either action or words, just looked at you with a funny look in his eyes.

You were embarrassed by your actions, even though it was only meant to be friendly, not suggestive at all.

So you had rushed away, back to your cold, lonely guest room, and fallen into a restless sleep.

You shivered again, and looked over to the clock to see that it was around three in the morning. The witching hour, you thought to yourself with a shudder.

Your nightmare replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but let out a slight cry and squeeze your eyes shut. It wasn’t pleasant.

You laid in bed, trying to fall back asleep asleep but having no luck.

Eventually you gave into yourself. So what did it matter if you and Miles had left on a “weird note”. So what? He was your best friend, and you needed him.

Right now.

You, pulling on a sweatshirt to be slightly more clothed, stumbled your way down the hall, careful not to disturb Flora in her bedroom.

The manor usually brought good memories for you, mostly of your younger days, having fun with Miles and then Flora when she was born. But for some reason over this visit, things felt off about it. You always felt like someone was watching you…

You hurried, not wanting to be out in the open hallway for very long, and crept into Miles’ room.

It was dark, so dark that you couldn’t even see him. Cautiously so that you didn’t trip over anything, you navigated your way to the window, where you pulled back the heavy drape just a mere inch or two. But that was plenty, the moonlight flooded into the room instantaneously.

Miles, sprawled over his bed, groaned slightly as he woke up and held up a hand to cover his face.

“S’ all that light for?” He muttered into his pillow.

You walked over and sat carefully on his bed, and took a nervous breath.

“Y/n?” He mumbled, seemingly just registering your presence. It was funny how alert he was during the day, but then at night, how he was so out of it.

“Yeah it’s me,” you whispered softly.

“What are you…?” He scrunched up his face, trying to focus his sleepy eyes on you.

“I, uh…” you faltered, suddenly at a loss for words. You weren’t sure why you were feeling so nervous, all things considered, that this was just Miles. Only your best friend in the entire world.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, leaning up now, so that one of elbows was supporting him. His hair was a wild mess, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit better seeing it. The sight of his concerned face made your stomach lurch, and that’s when you realized it.

It hit you like a ton of bricks. Of course. It was so obvious! You, Y/n, had the feels for Miles. You liked him.

No wonder you were feeling so nervous about coming to his room, seeking his comfort in the dead of night. Speaking of which…he was still watching you with a worried look.

“I-,” ...now you really didn’t know what to say, but luckily he sighed in a realization of his own, and reached out to gently touch his hand to yours, causing butterflies at the graze of his fingertips.

“Nightmares?” He asked softly, a shimmering look in his dark brown eyes.

You inhaled before responding with a sharp nod.

He frowned, sitting up and moving his other hand to your shoulder. Whether he realized it or not, he was subconsciously moving his fingers in small, slow circles. For you, it was as if you could feel his touch ten times more intensely than it actually was, and you stumbled over your words.

“I-it was the same dream,” you told him.

He sighed, assessing you for a moment with sad eyes, before pulling you to him, muttering a “c’mere.”’

You let yourself be hugged by him, and then in that moment you realized that you thought of him as way more than just your best friend because he treated you like more than a friend.

You thought back on all the times that you had subconscious feelings, all the little things he did. The way he would help you off of the horse when riding together, his hands lingering on your hips. The dorky smile he gave you when you would talk in other voices while reading to Flora. The way he -tried- to carry you home after you broke your ankle out playing in the fields. Hey, it’s the thought that counts. The things that ever so subtly made you like him, be inclined to want to be around him, things that made you feel like soup whenever he was doing them.

Like now, like hugging you. Yes, Miles treated you like he liked you.

And so you had to know. You lifted your head up, so that your faces were close together, your noses almost touching.

“Miles…?” You whispered.

He squeezed your arm, his way of non-verbally telling you to continue whatever you were saying.

“Do you...could you ever, I don’t know, like me?” You asked. Might as well find out.

He smiled a little, no, it was almost smirking. You tensed up, swearing to god that if he said, ‘of course, we’re friends,’ you wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t cry.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “I wouldn’t say so.”

You let out a short breath, not sure how to react.

“I would use the term love instead.”

Your eyes widened, “wha—really?”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled, his hand moving from your shoulder to caress your face.

He leaned in and kissed your neck, somewhat softly, but at the same time...not.

Your eyes fluttered shut, lost in the feeling of wanting, needing.

When he pulled away, you could only think that you wanted him to continue kissing you, even if it left a bruise, you didn’t care.

You just wanted him to-

“Yes,” he whispered.

“What?” You were puzzled, having been lost in your own thoughts.

“Yes,” he repeated. “You asked really? My answer is yes.”

word count: 1342

#miles fairchild #miles fairchild x reader #miles fairchild x gender neutral reader #miles fairchild x female reader #miles fairchild x male reader #the turning #horror movies x reader #the turning 2020 #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #one shot #nightmare one shot #bad dreams

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bumbleklee · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I'm the anon who requested the Childe x zhongli x reader one. I deeply apologize I am so so sorry I should have specified but yes! Childe and zhongli are dating at the beginning, and poly at the end with reader. Only if your comfortable with it though! I'm sorry once again I should have specified more clearly T-T

original ask: Um feel free to ignore This ask but zhongli x Childe x reader where Zhongli and childe are dating and reader has been in love with both of them and thinks their love is unrequited, but they're happy with only giving love and not receiving anything in return. But then one day they meet someone new and start spending more time with them, pulling away from zhongli and childe which leads them to getting angry and confessing + jealous nsfw at the end. Feel free to ignore tho, no pressure. Have a good day and take care :)

hopefully i did you justice lol, i was still a tiny bit confused so i apologize if this isn’t 100% of what you were looking for but i hope you still like it!!! this is a part 1 of 2 and the nsfw work scene is going to be in part 2 (expect that in a couple days) PART 2 HERE

cw: polyamourous relationship, little bit of angst, a little over 3k words, hu tao has a brother in this named jiang

summary: your first crush is zhongli and when it’s evident he doesn’t like you back, you try to turn your feelings to childe. so when childe and zhongli start dating, your heart is shattered. thinking there’s no hope for love, you meet jiang. sounds great - the only issue? zhongli and childe seem to have a problem with this.

Alongside Zhongli, you were a mortician at the Wangshen Funeral Home. Over the months of working beside him, you had become quite close to him. In fact, Zhongli considered you one of his closest friends in Liyue. After long days at the parlor you would go out to dinner together and despite having to pay most of the time, you were happy to spend time with him.

Your feelings towards Zhongli were growing to be more than platonic but you could never tell him. You were too different from him and while you were sure he appreciated your friendship, you couldn’t imagine him reciprocating your true feelings.

So when you’re introduced to a young man named Childe, you thought this would be your way to weasel out of your one-sided love. Childe was cheeky and sweet to you, nearly winning your heart instantly. He hung around Zhongli often and it became unusual to see either of them alone. Slowly, your crush on Zhongli soon shifted to Childe.

Unlike before, you began to dress nicer to work if you knew Childe was going to be coming along that day. You examined the way Childe interacted with Zhongli versus you and the difference made you hopeful that Childe was feeling something for you. Sometimes he would even stay at the parlor with you if Zhongli needed to run out for a bit.

When Childe asked you to Wanmin for dinner one night, your heart swelled. You had been alone for too long and now a rich, handsome local from Snezhnaya was courting you, right?

You were giddy for the remaining hour of your shift, even telling Hu Tao that you had a date after work. When the time came, Childe waited for you at the entrance and you happily skipped beside him. He made a comment about how you seemed to be in a good mood and you could only chuckle - wasn’t he, too?

“Order whatever you want,” Childe told you once you both were seated at a table. Your eyes glazed over the menu, racing back and forth between too many options. You heard Childe sigh and you looked up briefly to see his fingers fumbling with each other. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to dinner, huh?”

Beneath the table, your legs twisted anxiously. You hid your excited smile and tilted your head, trying to make a cute facial expression. Was Childe going to ask you to be his partner? Or was it too soon to do that? Despite your age, you hadn’t been on a proper date in ages. Were things different when you were a teenager than when you were an adult?

One of Childe’s hands made its way across the table and you let him take your own. His hand felt incredibly soft and warm and you wanted desperately to interlock your fingers.

“Since you're my closest friend in Liyue, I wanted to tell you this before anyone else,” Childe began. The first part of his sentence made your chest flutter but you decided to pay no mind to it. Perhaps you had just gotten closer to Childe than Zhongli lately. But what Childe said next made your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, “I’m going to ask Zhongli to be my partner.”

“Like, work partner?” You said, your words catching in your throat. You knew exactly what Childe meant. How could you have been so stupid?

Childe let out a hearty laugh, “No, not a work partner. I want to be his boyfriend.”

Your hand fell limp in Childe’s and you swore you stopped breathing in that moment. Not only were you extremely upset, you were suddenly extremely embarrassed. You told Hu Tao this was a date! You face grew red and you averted your eyes to your lap. But it all made sense. Childe wasn’t talking to you in a special way - he was talking to Zhongli. Looking back on your personal conversations with Childe, you realized that most of them centered around Zhongli or Zhongli’s personality. You were just so infatuated with trying to please Childe that you hadn’t noticed.

“So, what do you think?”

What did you think? You thought it was the most stupid, heart wrenching idea ever. You thought Childe was the worst person in the world for leading you on (even though deep down you knew he didn’t really lead you on) and you thought Childe should just go back to Snezhnaya.

“Great!” You said, plastering a fake smile on your face, “I’m happy for you.”

Childe gave your hand a squeeze and finally let go. Your own hand slithered back to your lap where you grasped angrily at the hem of your shirt.

You ordered the most expensive item on the menu.

***

You spent the next few weeks putting up a false identity. The day after your dinner with Childe, he followed through with his idea and started to date Zhongli. You hated to admit it, but they were the perfect couple. Childe helped bring Zhongli out of his reclusiveness and Zhongli helped Childe become a more mature person.

Since both men were still your friends, they wanted to continue their relationship with you. And you didn’t have the heart to tell them to leave you alone. Now that they were dating, it was always the three of you and you quickly grew to their third wheel.

Childe offered to do commissions with you and, of course, Zhongli came along and your usual table during lunch with Zhongli had to be changed so a third person could fit. It was fun at first since Zhongli and Childe were still getting comfortable with their new dynamic but once they discovered intimacy and physical touch, you had enough.

Not only did you have to suffer through not one but two one-sided crushes just to have them start dating each other, now you had to sit by and watch them practically drool all over each other. Instead of going out to lunch with the couple one day, you made up an excuse about work you needed to finish and collapsed in a chair in Hu Tao’s office once they had left.

The funeral director looked at you over a mound of paperwork, “You’re not going out today?”

“And watch Childe try feeding Zhongli for an hour? No thanks.”

You crossed your arms, annoyed, and fixed your sight on the ticking clock on the wall. Hu Tao shifted her small body so she was sitting on her desk facing you, her legs hanging off the side and her feet kicking the side of her desk.

“What happened?” She asked. At her question, you broke and told your boss everything. Hu Tao sat and listened, staring at you concerned while you ranted about how you were convinced the world was out to get you. When you finished your vent, Hu Tao had a mischievous look on her face, “You just need to find someone new.”

You were quick to roll your eyes, “Yeah, no.”

“Believe me, Y/N, getting a new partner would help get your mind off Zhongli and Childe.”

“And where am I supposed to just find someone to date out of the blue?”

“Are you doing anything after work?”

Knowing Hu Tao, you were more than nervous to see what she had up her sleeve. Nonetheless, you avoided Childe and Zhongli for the rest of the day and cautiously left with Hu Tao. You walked behind her in silence as she led you into Liyue Harbor and to a rather large townhouse. She opened the front door and you followed her inside, immediately being met with a bustling and loud environment.

A child ran by your legs and Hu Tao shouted something inaudible at them. She turned on her heel to you, “Sorry for the chaos. You’re okay with staying for dinner, right?”

You nodded your head, realizing it was probably foolish to say no to your boss (it’s not like you had plans anyways). Hu Tao beamed and clapped her hands together, practically dragging you to the kitchen and shoving you down on a barstool. Beside you sat a rather good-looking man and Hu Tao soon introduced him to you.

“Y/N, this is my older brother Jiang. Please find him well.”

So, this is what the director had in mind.

Jiang held out his hand to you politely and you shook it gently, formally introducing yourself to him. For the next few hours, you and Jiang got to know each other. You learned that he was Hu Tao’s eldest sibling and was a teacher in Liyue Harbor. He was around your age and had a very kind smile. By the end of the night, Jiang expressed his interest in you and asked you on a proper date. Hu Tao only smirked giddily behind the counter.

You and Jiang grew close quickly. Your time spent with him was refreshing and for once, you were finally able to get your mind off Childe and Zhongli. You still saw Zhongli (and sometimes Childe) at work but your relationship had already faltered enough to add awkwardness to your conversations. If Zhongli tried to stop you and talk to you about something other than work, you made up an excuse to scurry along. Despite your new relationship, thinking about Zhongli and Childe caused a familiar pain to appear in your chest.

One night you couldn’t leave fast enough and Zhongli caught your arm, “May I have a word with you?”

“Right now?” You asked, glancing at the clock for emphasis, “I really have to get going.”

“Please,” Zhongli said quietly, “Just for a moment.”

You sighed, knowing you didn’t have a valid excuse rolled up in your sleeve this time. You nodded your head and slipped your bag from your shoulder back onto the chair in front of you. Zhongli retracted his hand from your arm, instead deciding to loosely cross them across his chest.

“Have we done something wrong?” He asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Childe and I have noticed your absence from our outings,” He explained, his tone remaining very flat, “We miss you.”

You wanted to scoff at him. You weren’t a part of their relationship, why did they miss you? “I’ve just been busy,” You said, “In fact, I started seeing someone.”

Zhongli’s expression at this statement was indescribable. It was as if he had a reaction but was trying to hide it behind tight lips. Even his usual bright eyes were unreadable. “I see,” He said simply. He paused for a moment before flashing you a cheeky, falsified smile, “I’d love to meet them. How about a double date this Saturday? We get off early then.”

You sent Zhongli a similar tight-lipped smirk, “We would love to. See you then.” And with that, you picked up your bag and rushed out of the funeral home, rubbing your temple. You had a bad feeling about this date.

***

Jiang picked you up for your double date at six. You couldn’t help but notice how ravishing he looked that night with his hair slicked back and expensive-looking clothes on his body. Upon further inspection, you could see the faint smudge of eyeliner lining his lashes. Gold jewelry adorned his neck and wrists and you could only assume Hu Tao spent hours making him look this good for you.

“Ready to go?” Jiang asked you, holding his arm out cheekily. You rolled your eyes and grinned, locking your front door and grabbing onto his arm.

You couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach but you didn’t let Jiang know. The last thing he needed was to hear about how the two men he was meeting tonight were former crushes of yours. To him, this double date was a simple outing between coworkers.

You were having dinner together at the Liyue Pavilion as per suggestion of Childe. You were worried about the price but Childe insisted that he would front the bill as always. Part of you missed having your meals constantly covered by the harbinger.

Jiang opened the door to the restaurant for you and you thanked him, slipping inside and spotting the two men you were meeting already at a table. Childe reached up to wave you over and you took Jiang’s arm in yours before heading over there.

“Childe, Zhongli,” You greeted your co-worker and friend, “This is Jiang, my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jiang smiled, reaching his free hand out to Childe and Zhongli who both shook it cautiously. After introducing everyone, you sat down at the table and Childe handed you a menu to look over.

Jiang was being overtly sweet to you, touching your fingertips and leaning into your side. You accepted the gestures, even daring to lay your head against his shoulder while he talked to Zhongli about the cor lapis industry. From the corner of your eye, you watched Childe’s jaw clench and his grip on Zhongli’s arm tightened.

“So, tell us about yourself,” Childe asked Jiang, his tone sharp. Jiang, sweet Jiang, only beamed and sat straighter in his chair, “Zhongli tells me your Hu Tao’s brother, correct?”

“Right! She’s my younger sister,” Jiang shook his head and chuckled softly to himself, “And I teach literature at the Liyue Xueyuan.”

“A teacher?” Childe nearly scoffs, “I suppose that’s why you live with your younger sister.”

Jiang seemed taken aback by this comment but tried to play it off by laughing. You felt a pang in your chest and shot Childe a nasty glare for his unnecessary comment but were only met with his sharp eyes. You swore you could see jealousy swimming in them.

“Now, now,” Zhongli interrupted, “Not everyone is as magnificent as you, Childe. No need to make others feel bad.”

You felt Jiang’s body tense and his eyes averted down to his lap for a moment. “Don’t listen to them,” You told him, “They’re just trying to be funny.”

“I would never dream of humoring you about that,” Zhongli replied to you, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Aren’t we getting to know each other?”

At that moment, you knew exactly what Childe and Zhongli were doing. You noticed the way they were looking admirably at you and shooting daggers at your date. They were clearly trying to badtalk him and make Jiang seem undesirable in your eyes. Only you couldn’t seem to understand why. Shouldn’t they be happy that you finally found someone to potentially settle down with?

One more backhanded comment was thrown in Jiang’s direction and suddenly your partner stood up from the table. The expression on his face was heart-wrenching, “I’m going to use the restroom.” With that, Jiang hurried away from the table leaving you alone with both men.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” You snapped, angrily waving your hands around.

“What do you mean?” Childe asked, batting his eyelashes at you in the most painstakingly annoying way ever. Your eyes narrowed and after finding his foot under the table, you stomped on it hard. Childe cursed and crossed his arms, looking down.

Zhongli, understanding Childe was being too immature, spoke up, “You shouldn’t be with him.”

You wanted to tear your hair out, “Who do you think you are to dictate who I can and can’t date?” Your voice was rising but you didn’t care, your frustration jumping out. “Never once have I meddled with your relationship but you think you can with mine?”

“You should be with us.”

Zhongli’s words made you freeze. Was this some sick joke? You wrecked your brain for an incident you caused in the past few months for them to be pranking you like this but you couldn’t think of a single one. Childe reached across the table to grasp your hands and you were still too in shock to pull them away.

“We love you, Y/N, and we should have told you sooner,” Childe says.

You shake your head, “I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Zhongli says, placing his hands over yours and Childe’s, “Please say you’ll be ours.”

Finally, you took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. Zhongli and Childe looked at you with pleading eyes and you felt a rush of emotions explode inside of you. Both of your former crushes were confessing their love to you, asking you to be a part of their relationship. Never once had the thought of a polyamorous relationship crossed your mind but you certainly weren’t opposed to it.

“Okay,” You breathed out, “I will.”

***

Breaking the news to Jiang when he returned back to the table was hard. He was already fragile from being berated before and now you were breaking up with him. You knew you were going to earn an earful from Hu Tao on Monday but you decided to worry about that when the time came.

You had asked Jiang to step aside and in the simplest of terms, you tried to explain the situation.

“So, you’re breaking up with me to date both of them?” He asked in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. His voice was filled with cracks and you wish it didn’t have to be like this. Truthfully, he didn’t understand. How could you be with two people at the same time? “Is this a sex thing? Because I can try harder if that’s-”

“No!” You interrupted, “It’s not, I promise. My heart is just split down the middle for them.”

Jiang sighed again. He may never fully understand your relationship but he appreciated you telling him now rather than later. You offered to walk Jiang home but the man decided he needed some time alone - you didn’t blame him. You wanted to ask Jiang if you could remain friends but the words weren’t coming out of your throat. You watched as Jiang took one last look at you, then the two men at the table, before solemnly walking away and out of the restaurant.

You returned to your new partners and finished your dinner. Slowly, your mood was elevated again but the natural ache of your heartbreak lingered.

“Spend the night with us,” Childe says sweetly after paying the check, “We can help you feel better.”

The feeling of both men on either side of you felt foreign but comforting. You nodded to Childe’s request and Zhongli led the three of you back to his apartment. The next few moments were a blur and when you came to, you were being laid on a soft bed. Childe slid next to you and your arm instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, while Zhongli hovered above you. His warm eyes gazed into yours and you decided you could get used to this.

This new love was unique and plentiful as long as the three of you were on the same page, that’s all that mattered.

a/n: sorry this took so long! as you can see, it came out v long lmfao. requests are still open <3

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin oneshot #genshin impact oneshot #genshin writing #genshin zhongli #genshin childe #zhongli x reader x childe #zhongli x childe #genshin x reader #genshin hu tao #zhongli #childe #hu tao #genshin x you

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drabbles-of-writing · 3 years ago

Text

You’ll Be Okay

AO3

fourth owl fight attack! This one’s prompt was “Hunter and Luz being siblings” and I went a whole Direction with it

Summary: The Emperor was defeated. Amongst the ruins of a half-destroyed castle, Luz finds Hunter. While waiting for the others to find them, Hunter's shields finally fall apart. After all, at the end of the day, he was just a kid.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Luz found Hunter in the wreckage of the Emperor’s Castle, using his staff (the one that had Rascal perched atop, not the other, artificial staff. That one had been snapped in two) to support himself, his other hand clutching his side.

“There you are!” She breathed, rushing forward.

Hunter flinched at the noise and whirled around, lifting his staff to aim it before falling over at the lack of support. He hissed and curled up on the ground, eyes squeezed shut.

Luz faltered for a moment before continuing towards him, albeit much slower and cautiously now.

“Hunter?” She called, crouched down low.

He cracked open a wild, unfocused eye. It took a moment till it landed on her, and a few more until she could start to see him process who she was.

“Hey,” He croaked, slowly raising his head. “I was beginning to think I’d gotten rid of you for good.” He chuckled, before he was wracked with coughs and curled back in on himself.

“Oh please, you’ll have to try way harder than that.” Luz huffed, though the forced teasing in her tone didn’t work much. “Are you…okay?”

“Take a wild guess,” Hunter muttered, bracing one hand on the ground as the other stayed wrapped around his side.

And yeah, in hindsight, he really wasn’t. His white cloak was ratty and torn all over, the piece of under armor he often used barely hanging on by one strap. He was covered in gashes, bruises, grime, and who-knows-what. His breathing was ragged and raspy, and she figured that, yeah, when one is used as a living portal-booster they aren’t going to come out of it okay.

“Alright, fair, bad question.” Luz admitted, inching closer and placing a hand on his leg. “You need any help?”

“If I say no,” Hunter wheezed, eyeing her hand for a moment. “You’ll help me anyway.”

“Yeah,” Luz shrugged. “But it’s polite to ask.”

“Never stopped you before,” He rasped with the faintest of smiles, slowly leaning back until he was flat on the ground, staring up at the sky.

“Need a minute?” Luz asked, scooting until she was sitting right beside him.

“Or three,” Hunter agreed, shutting his eyes. “Everything kinda hurts.”

“Then rest, someone will find us eventually.” Luz assured. “I…may have run off to find you when I realized you weren’t with the others.” She admitted sheepishly, rubbing her neck.

“If they accuse me of kidnapping, I’ll break your shins.” Hunter threatened, though his tone never changed, and his eyes stayed shut.

“Understood,” Luz smiled, watching as Rascal transformed back into his usual self, chirping as he settled himself on Hunter’s stomach.

And the two remained silent for what felt like hours, though Luz was willing to bet it had been no more than ten minutes. She just looked out at the rubble around them, aching all over as a light wind breezed by. Had she not seen Hunter’s ear flicking periodically with the wind tickling it, she probably would’ve thought he’d died then. His breathing barely even disturbed Rascal, which she had to wonder if he was doing on purpose or not.

“When are you leaving?”

Luz blinked, turning her head down, finding Hunter had cracked open a single eye and was peering up at her.

“Huh?”

“The portal, you went through all this trouble to go back to the human realm, right?” He said. “So, when are you leaving?”

“Oh, uh,” Luz swallowed, shoving down the memory of standing before blinding car lights, reaching for a hand she phased right through. “I...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Hunter repeated, giving her an incredulous look. “You went through all this trouble--”

“Okay, in my defense, this goes a little beyond getting the portal back, there were other reasons.” Luz said, waving her arms to the ruins around them.

“Still,” Hunter braced his arms under him, grunting with the effort as he pushed himself upright, disturbing Rascal. “Last I checked, the portal’s fine. How come you’re not making a beeline for it?”

“Uh, because I need to make sure my friends are okay?” Luz said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world, which, really, it should’ve been. “I’m not gonna leave right away. I need a day or two to make sure everyone's alright and figure out what they’re gonna do now.”

“Go back to normal?” Hunter raised a brow.

“An entire government was just dismantled, Hunter.” Luz deadpanned. “My fantasy books never really got to the part of explaining how they fixed a toppled tyrannical way of ruling, but knowing the Boiling Isles, I doubt this is gonna be easy.”

“Let the people good with politics handle that,” Hunter said casually, slumping back down on the ground and throwing an arm over his face. “They’re not gonna listen to a teenage human and her band of misfits for a new government, anyway.”

“Lilith might be good at figuring that out,” Luz hummed, ignoring him. “She has experience. Raine, too, technically.”

“If you put Lilith in charge, every witch and demon in the Isles will riot in the street.”

“We’re not putting her in charge,” Luz stressed, appalled at the thought. “Just guiding people. See? This is why I need to stay for a little bit, I gotta know what's gonna happen!”

“Do you actually want to go back, or was this all a game of keepsies?” Hunter muttered.

“Of course I--I’m not arguing with you, you’re wounded.” Luz said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

“I'm not in that bad of shape."

“Really now,” Luz said drawled, reaching out a hand towards his chest before Hunter batted it away.

"You trying to hurt me more?" Hunter grumbled, rolling onto his side and wincing with the movement.

"I don't think you could get any more hurt if you tried." Luz deadpanned.

“I’ve had worse than this.” Hunter wheezed out, Rascal fluttering around him anxiously.

“Worse than a living portal puppet...thing?” Luz lifted a brow disbelievingly.

“...alright, fair,” Hunter sighed, a wheezing, noisy one as he shook his head. “This is probably the worst. New record.”

“I don’t want to know what the old record was.” Luz cringed as Hunter rolled onto his back once more, wincing with the movement. “You think the worst of it came from the portal, or being thrown around like a ragdoll by an eldritch abomination?”

“Portal thing,” Hunter said, eyes shut. “I’m used to…” He trailed off, mouth clicking shut as he refused to finish the sentence.

Used to Belos, Luz reasoned, was likely where he was going with that. She gazed at him sadly, his hands clenched into fists over his stomach now, Rascal nudging at his shoulder.

“He didn’t make it, right?” Hunter asked softly, and she didn’t ask him to clarify who.

“I don’t think so, we didn’t find anything.” Luz answered. “We could go check where we last saw him...if you’d like.”

“...later,” Hunter sighed, raising his hands to press the heels of them up against his eyes, fingers gripping his hair. “I don’t wanna think about it much right now.”

“I’m,” Luz started, fiddling with her sleeve. “I’m sorry, about all this.” She said, because she didn’t know what else she could say.

“No, you’re not.” Hunter scoffed bitterly. “You’re glad it’s over.”

“I am,” Luz agreed. “That doesn’t mean I’m still not sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you, I get it.” Hunter said, agonizingly gently. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not--Dios,” Luz muttered as she ran a hand over her face. “Me olvidé de lo reprimido que estabas. You are my friend,” Luz shoved lightly at his shoulder, and he jerked and raised one hand away to give her an offended look. “And as your friend, should the stars align, I am sorry that this terrible situation happened to you, because I care about your well being.” She said, perhaps a few notches more aggressively than intended.

“...I’m your friend?” Hunter blinked, removing his other hand.

“Yes! Yes, you’re my friend! Are we seriously still on that page?” Luz demanded, almost yanking at her hair. She raised a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “If you start protesting about all the times you were a jerk to me before you switched sides, I’m going to hit you.”

“...you have a very mean way of expressing concern.” Hunter settled on, voice small.

“Because you,” Luz poked at his forehead and got a growl in return. “Can’t get it through your thick head that other people can care about you. Newsflash, buddy. Eda’s already talking to Hooty about making another room for you.”

“She what--”

“So I’m sorry that the castle is destroyed, and I’m sorry that your uncle is gone, because you cared about him.” Luz continued before he could butt-in. “And about that whole...Grimwalker thing, which is a whole other pile of messed up things, but you get the point.” She waved her hands around. “You...you deserved better.” She finally finished, realizing she’d sat up at one point to face him, and now leaned back on her knees.

Hunter stared at her for a moment, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. Rascal had crawled his way up and onto his shoulder now, looking between the two of them.

Eventually, the tension left his body, and he lay on his side, cheek pressed into the dirty, rocky ground. Rascal jolted, fluttering up onto his head.

“He was awful,” Hunter mumbled, like he was trying to convince someone.

“I know,” Luz sighed, looking down at him. “But you loved him.” She said, and Hunter didn’t dispute it.

“...m’sorry,” Hunter got out, which sounded like a shuttering gasp, as though his throat was closing up.

“What for?” Luz tilted her head.

“You want the list?” Hunter managed, his snark falling short as he rapidly blinked his eyes. “I’d ask why you care at all, but you’re Luz.” He said, shaking his head slightly. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

“It worked out this time, didn’t it?” Luz said, offering a tiny smile as she held out a hand, just short of touching him.

He eyed her hand for a moment, then his gaze flicked across her face, searching. He must’ve seen something, because the little resolve he had left broke, and he reached for Luz’s hand and gripped onto it far more forcefully than needed.

She hoisted him upright, and barely had a moment to spare until he was grabbing onto her, hands fisted in the back of her shirt as he pressed his face into her shoulder. She froze for just a moment before she returned the hug, forcing herself not to protest against the tight grip along her back, definitely going to form nasty bruises later.

She saw that the white of his cloak was covered in dirt and blood all across his back, from injuries he must’ve sustained, though most of it looked dried now. She wondered if it hurt for him to lay on his back like that, and avoided disturbing those wounds as he trembled in her arms.

He shook with cries that were barely choked back, and she pressed the side of her face against his head. Rascal warbled sadly and nuzzled into his head from where he was perched in his hair.

Luz murmured words she couldn’t remember for the life of her, rubbing small circles across the uninjured parts of his back. He only pressed closer, clinging desperately like she’d vanish if he didn’t, and Luz had to put in effort to not fall back.

It might’ve been a few minutes, it might’ve been longer, but gradually, Hunter ran out of steam. His strained cries became muffled sniffles, slumping against Luz like dead weight.

“Sorry,” Hunter hiccupped again, voice muffled against her shoulder. “I think I got your cloak dirty.”

“It was already pretty messy.” Luz assured. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Hunter muffled, hunching his shoulders.

“Okay,” Luz said simply. “We’ve got time.”

“And ain’t that a new concept,” Hunter mumbled, raising his head slightly to instead rest his chin on top of Luz’s shoulder, and she could already feel him wiping at his face. “Having time. I didn’t think I’d make it past nineteen, if I was lucky.” He sniffled, voice hoarse and raspy.

“That…” Luz frowned. “Yeah, we’re gonna make you see someone for all of that.”

“Make me?” Hunter repeated, a faint, fading amusement to his tone.

“We have our ways.” Luz said with a hint of pride. “You’d be surprised.”

Hunter remained quiet for a moment, and Luz watched the old, ripped tapestries in the rubble wave when the wind went by them. She wondered if Eda would be stealing any of those as a trophy, and how long it’d take before Lilith took it away from her.

“Are you going to come back?” Hunter asked, quietly, curiously, without any hint of pleading in his tone, which she was quite impressed by. The subtle grip around her sides tightening just an inch gave him away, though.

“Of course,” Luz said, not needing clarification on what he had meant. “I couldn’t leave this place forever, not even if I wanted to.” She said, and prayed she wasn't lying.

“Yeah, you couldn’t.” Hunter snorted, slowly pulling back as he wiped up the last of his face, though it was still pretty damp as he faced Luz. “They’d be insufferable trying to get you back.” He said, frazzled hair hanging into his eyes.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t put in an effort, then?” Luz scoffed good-naturedly. “Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”

“Well now how am I supposed to respond to that?” Hunter demanded in a whine. “I say yes, and you start getting melodramatic and bringing up pointless random acts of kindness like I’m a liar. I say no, and you get all starry-eyed and unbearable.” He complained.

Luz laughed, despite it all. Hunter rolled his eyes and sat back, looking up at Rascal on his head like they were in on some joke she was missing. He chuckled along with her and shook his head, ears twitching down.

“You’re impossible,” He huffed, though he bore a smile.

“I know,” Luz grinned. “And what’s it say about you, still caring anyway?”

“Don’t push it.” Hunter warned, shoving her shoulder as he leaned further back, her only giggling in response.

A call sounded off in the distance, and they both snapped their heads in the direction of the sound. Hunter’s ears pricked high, the sudden shift in personality from relaxed to alert being another slightly alarming thing to put on Luz’s list of traits Hunter had.

The call sounded again, and Luz could recognize the sound of Eda’s voice. She smiled and stood, untangling herself from Hunter as she peered out at the terrain, seeing a figure off in the distance, and if she squinted enough, she could see a few more not too far away.

“Over here!” Luz shouted, hands cupped around her mouth.

“Ow,” Hunter winced, rubbing at his ears.

“Oh, are they sensitive?” Luz worried, lowering her voice.

“Just a bit, I think I had a concussion earlier.” Hunter said, shaking his head to clear it.

“You’re seeing a healer,” Luz said firmly, looking back out to the figures in the distance. “Cover your ears.”

Hunter grumbled something about Luz being dramatic, covering his ears as Luz continued waving her hands and hollering to the others. It took a moment, but she saw one of them break away before the others followed suit, and Eda’s wild nest of hair could be recognizable from anywhere.

“Are you ready to make formal introductions?” Luz grinned down at Hunter, who slowly drew his hands away from his ears.

“Do I have to?” Hunter whined. “I could just live off the land, making a tent isn’t that hard. I know how to steal.”

“Nice try,” Luz lightly pushed at his head. “Unless you’ve got a proper living space, you’re staying in the Owl House.”

“I’m sixteen, no place in Bonesborough will give me an apartment unless I’m rich.” Hunter complained.

“Precisely,” Luz said simply, offering a hand to him. “Wanna try standing up?”

“I guess,” Hunter grumbled, taking her hand and letting her pull him to his feet.

He stumbled for a moment, hissing and favoring his right foot, and would’ve fallen right back over if Luz didn’t stop his fall with her body, hanging onto his arm to steady him.

“Yeah, that’s sprained. Or twisted, don’t really feel like checking.” Hunter gritted out, Rascal cheeping from his head before flying off, transforming into a staff that Hunter was quick to grab and then lean on, taking his weight off Luz.

“Viney can take a look at it, I’m pretty sure she came with us.” Luz said, grabbing Hunter’s hand and slinging it over her shoulder. “C’mon, let’s meet them halfway. You’re lighter than a sack of lumpy potatoes, it’s not hard to carry you.”

“I resent that,” Hunter growled, though he let her do as she wished. “You're just weirdly strong.”

“You live in the Boiling Isles, you're telling me you're not?” Luz scoffed, beginning to walk with Hunter, who used his staff occasionally to push aside heaps of rock or try and limp himself along.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a frame of reference.” Hunter drawled, looking up, his ears pinning back against his head when he could make out who was approaching in the distance. Luz could now see that King was sitting atop Eda’s shoulder, too.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Luz said, noting Hunter’s nerves suddenly spiking. “Are you ready to meet everyone, outside of, you know, portal mishaps?”

Hunter swallowed, looking down at Luz with something that might’ve been fear swirling in his eyes. He searched her face, closing his eyes and taking in half a breath, anything more causing him to cough, exhaling as he opened his eyes again, facing off towards where the others were gathered, the fear replaced with determination.

“Yeah,” He said, clearing his throat when his voice started to shake. “Yeah, I think so.”

Luz smiled, bumping her body against his, and he looked at her with a smile of his own that might just have been hopeful.

She turned back to call a greeting to her friends as Eda was already scolding her for running off the moment she was in earshot, King wailing something about being worried. Hunter gave them his best crooked smile, despite his earlier claims, insisting she’d only come to drag him out of the rubble.

Yeah, Luz thought as she watched Eda and King pause and look Hunter over, easily slipping into mocking him for how beat up he looked, like nothing had ever gone sideways, and it was any other day in the Isles. They’d be okay.

209 notes · View notes

arvandus · 3 years ago

Note

Congratulations on the big 500 ^-^ I'm so happy for you! Could I get a fluffy #24 with Dabi, pretty please? 🥺👉👈

I’m finally getting to thissss! I’m so, so sorry for the delay. For some reason I struggled with this one for a while, then suddenly something clicked, and inspiration took over. I really enjoyed writing this, it felt very cathartic. It might feel a little heavy/emotional at first but trust me when I say that it ends with fluff.

#24: You're The Only Thing That Matters

Pairing: Dabi x GN!Reader

Word count: 1825

Warnings: light angst(?), fluff

---------

You hadn’t meant for this to happen. Then again, no one ever does. It’s not like anyone ever plans for their apartment to get broken into, their personal items stolen...

Then again, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, not with a neighborhood like this. But it was the neighborhood you could afford. Now here you are, hanging out across the street at the local market, too afraid to return upstairs to your ransacked home. You don’t have a car to drive yourself to a motel to stay the night, you don’t trust nighttime public transportation, and you don’t have enough money for an Uber. But you have to go somewhere. So, you take your phone and called the first person that comes to mind...

Dabi.

You can’t help but laugh that his number is the first one you think to dial. From the surface it makes sense – you two have been seeing each other, so of course he should be someone you can trust enough reach out to. But this is Dabi. Even with your intimate relationship with each other, he is often distant and, more often than not, entirely unavailable. It doesn’t surprise you too much... he’s a villain, after all, and sometimes that villain life requires him to disappear for periods at a time.

Which is why you are honestly surprised when he picks up.

“What?” he says gruffly, like he doesn’t have your number saved in his phone; he knows it’s you on the other end.

You bite your lip before answering. “Um, hey, Dabi. It’s me.”

Already you’re struggling to keep your voice from quivering with unshed tears. If you let yourself cry now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and this really isn’t the place for it. You watch as an old man pushes a cart past you at a snail’s pace, his gnarled fingers grabbing a bag of rice from the shelf.

Dabi must have heard the emotion in your tone though, because his next words come out slightly softer. “Hey, doll. What’s up? Ain’t it a little late for a phone call?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just...” you take a steady breath through your nose in an attempt to ease your jitters. “My place got robbed, and... I need a place to stay for tonight.”

You hear voices in the background, and Dabi growls at them to ‘shut the hell up.’

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Am I bothering you? I didn’t realize you were working...”

“It’s fine, doll.” Dabi replies. “Yeah, you can crash here.”

More arguing. But a moment later, you hear the click of a door being closed and the background noise disappears.

“I’m headin’ over.” Dabi’s voice comes through clearer than before now that there are no other voices coming through the receiver. His deep tone makes your pulse slow down to a manageable pace, and you take a deep sigh a relief. “Where are you?” he asks.

“I’m at the grocery store across the street.” You reply.

“Stay there.” His words are an order, his voice unusually firm. Is that... concern you hear?

“They close in fifteen minutes.” You say nervously.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You hear the click and the call ends, and you really wish it didn’t. Then again, there was no telling where Dabi was, or what he was in the middle of when you had called.

The minutes tick by slowly as you wait, each minute dragging on longer than the last until you’re certain that you’re in hell, watching time slow to an endless crawl. The ten-minute mark comes and goes, and Dabi is nowhere to be found, and now you’re struggling to keep the panic down. What if he doesn’t come?

But just as the dreaded thought enters your mind, he’s there, appearing next to your shoulder like an apparition, a dark angel disguised in a black hoodie, his mouth covered. You nearly jump out of your skin when he puts an arm around you before you quickly realize it’s him, your protector.

Already you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes, but his words quickly interrupt the flow like a stopper.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispers in your ear. “None of that now.”

He guides you out of the store into the dark night and you stare across the street at your apartment complex. The building is tall and old, looming over you like a bad dream as visions of your ruined home flash in your mind.

“D’ya need to grab anything from your place?” he asks. You shake your head. You don’t want to go in there, even with Dabi present.

“Didja lock the door?” he asks again, and you shake your head again.

“Whoever it was broke it.” You reply. “Please, I just want to go...”

He stares at you for a moment, his blue half-lidded eyes reading the look on your face before he looks away.

“Well, c’mon then.” He says. He guides you to the subway. Once you get on the train, you sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder as the empty train car sways and bumps on the tracks. You can feel the fear begin to fade away with each passing of the flashing lights through the dirty windows, graffiti carved into their acrylic surface. You interlace your fingers in his, and for once he doesn’t fight it, doesn’t recoil his hand to the safety of his pockets.

The ride is silent and so is the walk to his hideout. He leads you in through the rickety door with the dented doorknob where a ragtag group of people lounge on dirty couches. Your body stiffens instantly, your hand tightening around his as if doing so would fill you with courage you didn’t have.

A man with white hair with the slightest tint of blue-grey glared at you with red eyes. “I thought we agreed on no outsiders?” his voice comes through with a growl, carried on a sneer past scarred lips.

“Shut up.” Dabi snaps at him as he leads you past the group to another door that leads to a hallway.

A couple doors down and he pulls you into what you can only assume is his room – after all, it’s your first time being here; Dabi had never let you visit him before.

“It’s not much, but it’s safe.” Dabi comments as he closes the door behind you.

The bed is messy, the mattress old. You don’t care though. The space smells of Dabi, and as soon as your brain registers that you’re no longer in danger, you buckle down onto his bed and begin to cry with your face in your hands as the aftermath of emotions overflows into your palms.

Dabi removes his hoodie and kneels before you. He watches you in silence, the glaze of his eyes never betraying the emotions tucked away in secrecy. He hates seeing you like this, hates watching you fall apart in front of him. It makes him feel useless. Cautiously, he reaches out and takes your hand from your face, holding your fingers in his warm palm. He can feel the wetness of your tears on them, and he fights the urge to increase his body temperature, to evaporate the evidence of your pain from his skin. Your eyes catch his, red and puffy, and before he can react you throw your arms around his neck and fall into his lap. He catches you – how could he not? – and holds you to him as you empty your emotions into his shoulder.

When the well of your tears has finally dried, you wipe your eyes with the heel of your hand and pull away from him slightly. Dabi can see the exhaustion falling over you in real time, your shoulders slumping and your hold on him loosening into a relaxed grip.

“I’m sorry, I... I just... it’s been a really bad day.” You say, your eyes downcast.

Dabi can’t help but give a dry chuckle as he helps you up to your feet. “Yeah, no shit.”

He sits on the bed and pulls you with him until you’re both lying down on his messy sheets, with you curled into his side.

“Thank you for coming to get me...” you whisper as you rest your cheek against his chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he teases, but his smile falters when your breath hitches and you don’t answer.

It cuts him deeper than he expects, but at the same time he’s not surprised... he hasn’t exactly been the best boyfriend – is that even what he is? Is that what he’s been to you? It wasn’t like you two ever discussed it; you two just... were. He’s given you so little...

Dabi swallows before he continues, his voice quieter this time, quieter than he’s ever been with you before. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” The confession feels weird on his tongue, like a foreign language, but he pushes forward, determined to say what he should have told you sooner. His voice drops even lower to a barely audible whisper. “I’ll always come for you.”

Despite the hush of his words, they feel like a shout. The admission leaves him feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, and a part of him wishes he could take them back, simply because of what they mean. But they don’t come without their own reward - you relax at his words, your body molding against his as your arms tighten around him. It’s the first time he’s been so open with you and the nervousness in his veins gives way to a light euphoria at your acceptance. His arm tightens around you as if he’s afraid you’ll melt away, as if his touch is the only thing keeping you real, his perfect dream come to life. Within minutes, your breaths become deep and even, and Dabi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on him, your body giving way to its exhaustion after all that had happened. He stares down at you for a long, quiet moment, watching you sleep on him.

Dabi had never put anyone else first before, not even you despite your closeness. But when he answered your call and heard the fear in your voice, it was as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, his entire world thrown into chaos. If anything had happened to you... If you’d gotten hurt in any way...

His grip on you tightens a little more and he brushes his lips against your hair. Maybe it’s the bravery he’s feeling at your acceptance of him. Or maybe it’s the fear of what could have been. But his next words come out in a hushed whisper, a secret confession meant more for himself than you.

“You’re the only thing that matters.”

And even though you’re supposed to be asleep, your soft words hum into his chest, burying themselves like sunflower seeds.

“I love you too.”

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #Dabi #dabi x reader #soft dabi #dabi x gn!reader

228 notes · View notes

taechaos · 3 years ago

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Can we have some jealous/sweet smut with textbook love couple?🥲 like I guess OC was wearing an outfit that was a little short and some guy was checking her out and trying to get at her but she didn’t even realize it and Jungkook gets mad and you know😏

this really went off the fucking rails 😷

"I don't see the point in you coming, we just go there to get high."

"Maybe she wants to try it," Taehyung shrugs before looking up from his phone with a mischievous grin. "What if she's secretly a freak–"

"I'm not, I just–" you sigh, reluctant to reveal your intentions behind wanting to tag along with Jungkook to a frat party. His reason is clear: his body is craving another drug trip. Yours is unknown to them, and you purse your lips where you stand uncomfortably in the student lounge. Why would such a motivated student go out on a school night to get influenced? Oh, no reason, just want to damage my organs because YOLO, right? "I want to spend time with you," you simply reason to your unwilling boyfriend.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, an indication of an incoming refusal, "It's a crackhouse with live softcore porn, and I know for a fact you'd hate it there. Remember last time?"

The issue is that you do remember last time, and also the time that you weren't there. Much like a fairytale, it ended happily both times, but the beginnings were rocky—and you didn't want to miss out on that chapter before jumping to the end. It ruins the tale.

"It's okay sugar tits, I give you permission," Taehyung says while playing a mobile game with his tongue sticking out, unaware of the stares he's getting in response.

"The fuck did you just call her?"

"I'm not asking for permission," you roll your eyes and put your hands on your hips to assert the tiniest bit of dominance on Jungkook who you hover over. The two men are relaxed in their seats while you're tense from knowing you're going to have to rebel against Jungkook. He isn't going to give in. "I will come."

"No, no you won't," is his plain and casual command. You send him a subtle glare but he merely raises a brow, as if challenging you to retaliate.

"You're not her dad, dude. If she wants to come, she will," his friend chimes in defensively.

"Thank you," you point at him with wide eyes.

"First of all, you're not even a part of this conversation," he tells Taehyung. "Secondly, I'm looking out for you as your boyfriend," he gives you a pointed look. "Thirdly, not her dad? Wouldn't you beg to differ." The suggestive hint makes your face flush in embarrassment, and his wink worsens it.

"Excuse–"

"You told me not to tell him!" The discussion ends when you march out of the lounge to cool off your heated skin along with your high nerves. This relationship did begin when you didn't take no for an answer, so what's the harm in doing it again?

—————

The night you lost your virginity, it was autumn and easy to figure out what to wear for a party: warm and cozy with some charming color. It's spring now, and a little more difficult to decide on what to wear without looking like a "high school girl" as Jungkook often describes your outfits.

Your roommate is more cultured in that field, and was kind enough to lend you her help.

Soyeon racks her eyes over your closet with a hand over her chin, elbow crossing her stomach as leverage for her other arm. Nothing is exactly screaming out sexy to her, and unless it's a cosplay gathering, your wardrobe needs more diversity; dressing shirts, skater skirts and knee highs are out of the question.

You wait to hear her thoughts while shifting in your seat on your bed until she quietly giggles. "And I thought I was conservative." She cranes her neck to you, not moving from her position depending on your answer, "Do you want to borrow my clothes instead? They're more... suitable?"

You nod. "Sure. I mean— if you don't mind."

You trust your friend to take care of the clothing portion, and it's with a few cringing "ehhh"s and "mmm"s that you are satisfied with the outcome of this minor quest.

A thin black turtleneck with unnecessarily long sleeves cover your knuckles like sweater paws, and the fabric hugs your torso tightly but ends just below your belly button. Soyeon found a solution to your discomfort with the slight exposure of your stomach by matching it with high waisted denim shorts and nude pantyhose. It's chilly at night, so it's the perfect outfit: doesn't stand out and fits in just right. You don't look like a high school girl nor a nun.

You kept your only concern to yourself because it's not much of a big deal, but it bothers you that the denim shorts don't reach your knees. By your standards, it's a little... inappropriate, but your roommate assures you that it's a common choice in this occasion. You let it slide.

—————

Your worries of being too early faded the moment you stood before the frat house that boomed with music and flashed with violet. You don't know the time code for parties, but you must be late considering the crowd inside. People are chattering loudly when you squirm past them, but there's enough space in the living room for you to breathe. No softcore porn or crack yet. Not many are dancing either. It seems all good here.

However, the search must go on because Jungkook is nowhere to be found in the living room. You hear deep howls from the kitchen and it piques your attention, prompting you to look there next. You can only hope Jungkook's not high yet, or has a girl on his lap.

When you walk in, the kitchen that is remarkably smaller than the living room is filled with men taking shots from the center counter, and Jungkook leaning against the other counter surrounding the walls with a joint in his hand. You stand still in the doorway, suddenly nervous of his reaction, but relieved that he's alone nonetheless.

He inhales a deep breath and the small smile on his face falters when his redshot eyes drag themselves onto you. He stands straight once you lock gazes, and you grin at him before he shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw. You unconfidently strut over to him, reaching his side in only a few seconds as he glares at you.

Only a syllable comes out of his mouth before his attention diverts from you to another guy nearby in a flash. "Hey, eyes off," he calmly demands the man behind you. You glance at him when he raises his hands before looking elsewhere. You presume that's sign language for backing off, and your shoulder blades move awkwardly at the guess of what he might've been looking at. "What the hell are you doing here?" he brings your focus back onto him.

"I wanted to check up on you," you lean into him to not yell out your words.

"Check up on me?" He's incredulous. "Do you realize where you are? You shouldn't be here."

The moment is interrupted when Namjoon and Taehyung enter the scene, and you stop gnawing on your inner cheek. You don't have any answers you want to tell him, and your muscles relax when Jungkook's friends notice you.

"Oh shit," Taehyung smiles widely, "you're actually here." He appears to be sober and you smile back at him. Namjoon on the other hand, is as high as a kite as he brings you into a light hug. Your eyes widen and you awkwardly pat his back, fixated on his dazed expression.

"I haven't seen you in so long," he says as he ruffles your hair. Jungkook slaps a hand over his face at the interaction and drags the skin with his fingers. "How have you been? Do you want a molly?"

"Dude," your boyfriend intervenes, annoyed. "Why are you back here?"

"Alcohol." Namjoon disappears behind you to search the fridge and cabinets and you look at Taehyung again. He's drinking in your awkward stance as he licks his lips while Jungkook takes another drag from his joint.

"Girl, you are fucked," he says when his eyes trail back to yours with a snort. "You came here in those clothes, when you have a boyfriend? Jungkookie, I have some bad news for you. Your cock isn't even satisfactor–"

"Seriously though," Jungkook tells you with furrowed brows, "why are you here? I told you not to come." His reaction is influenced by the weed, not so mad as he is confused by your rebellion without reason—you must have a cause for waltzing in here, especially after his warning.

You hum in discomfort and shift your weight onto your other foot. "I already told you..."

"Don't give me that bullshit–"

A yelp cuts off his words when you jolt forward from a slap to your bottom. It wasn't a hard hit, but the surprise factor has you throwing yourself on Jungkook. Taehyung's jaw drops while your boyfriend barely reacts.

"If that isn't the cutest ass I've ever seen," the culprit chuckles without taking his eyes off your butt. He's almost slurring his words, and his lopsided grin doesn't seem intentional; he must feel too numb to form a full smile. You watch him in disbelief much like Taehyung. "You got any coke?"

"She's taken, man–" he takes on the peacemaker role, but it's futile when Jungkook gently removes your arm from his chest and walks forward to the stumbling man.

"Oh, my ba–" his face scrunches in confusion when his cheeks are grabbed and squished, leaving his mouth gaping. You peek from above Jungkook's shoulder to see him raising his joint before stubbing the burning tip onto the man's tongue. A scream resounds in the overcrowded room when it makes contact, and you fall back into Taehyung's arms while the deafeningly loud music tries to drown out the pained sounds. It's barbaric.

"Ah, shit," he pushes you to the side and pulls back Jungkook, who's still abnormally calm. The whole situation feels surreal, and it seems as if no one realizes this isn't a dream.

The man stops struggling against Jungkook's hold when he's released and falls to the ground, crawling back while sucking his teeth. He's whimpering and afraid. "I didn't know," he speaks with a lisp, pathetically begging, "I apologized! I-I'm sorry!"

You cautiously take a few steps back, almost like you're trying to flee the scene, but it just seems like a good idea to avoid Jungkook's temper right now. Just as you're about to turn around and sprint, you're held back by a hand on your shoulder. No words are exchanged when you're dragged away, a bruising grip on your forearm as you stumble out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Some fucking deja vu, huh?" your boyfriend fumes, basically shouting out his words without glancing at you to notice your struggles to keep up with his pace.

Lunatic Jungkook: Unlocked.

You trust sober Jungkook to not hurt you when he's angry, but after seeing him commit such a painful act, it's more than reasonable why you're currently terrified of him while he's high. To think you were so comfortable with him earlier because he's high. His calmness makes him all the more unpredictable, and you're unnerved when he shoves you inside a random bedroom. Some reversed deja vu.

"I'm going to ask you again: why the fuck did you come here?" The only attack is with his eyes that send daggers at you, but you keep your guard up in fear of what he'll do. You have to tread lightly.

"I was worried what would happen if I wasn't here with you." Honesty is your only approach in this instance because when he's glaring at you like that, it conveys that he doesn't want to hear any more of your ludicrous excuses.

He rolls his hand, gesturing you to continue. You're nervously forcing out your words, "I didn't, um... know how you would act around other women while you're on drugs when I'm not around." When his face falls into monotone, you defend yourself, still tense, "Last time, you kissed Soyeon and before that, another girl! I-I had my reasons..." Your voice grows smaller, just like how you feel under his gaze. Your eyes flicker to your shoes.

"And those shorts?"

At your silence, he takes a few steps towards you and leans into your face, slightly bending to level with your height. He tugs on the hem of your shorts harshly, emitting a flinch from you. You don't return his stare. "What the fuck are these? You're stupid enough to come here, but coming here in these shorts? Are you okay?" He taps your cheek, encouraging you to look up at him, but it's both humiliating and intimidating. "I know you're not a slut, baby, but why are you so adamant on acting like one?"

"I wanted to fit in," is your weak defence in a mumble, gaze still downcast. You shouldn't feel so ashamed.

"No, you told me you wanted to make sure I wasn't cheating," he counters. "Don't fucking twist things now. You didn't need to dress up to see if I was fucking someone else."

Your round eyes shoot up in panic at whatever he's insinuating, "I didn't want you to realize how paranoid I was."

"So this was your grand idea?"

"Ah," you groan, just wanting this argument to end already. You know what he's thinking: "I was stupid. I didn't learn my lesson, and I ended up hurting someone because I'm stupid."

You release a relieved breath when he gives you distance to sit on the twin sized bed. He's facing you as he says, "When I tell you not to do something, you don't do it. I'm not trying to dictate you, you understand that, right?" You meekly nod and clamp your mouth shut when he continues, "You pull this shit again, I'm going to hurt someone else again. Simple as that. I don't care if they did anything, I'll hurt them as long as it gets you to listen to me."

"Okay," you exhale, shyly walking between his legs at his beckon. You tower him, but it's not helping your confidence as he places his hands on your hips.

"Okay," he whispers back as he plays with the waistline of your shorts. A moment of silence passes, and you allow yourself to calm down enough to sit on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder. "I like the high school girl look better on you."

You sheepishly grin but decide not to respond for the safety of your friend. He pulls on your pantyhose and it slaps against your thigh when he releases it.

"Do you forgive me?"

"Can't stay mad at you," he murmurs before pecking your lips. It's you who leans back in to extend the kiss, and he responds gently. It ends when he chuckles, "Passive smoking, hm? You feeling okay?"

You nod and lock lips again, his hand soothingly rubbing the side of your thigh when you clasp your hands behind his neck. Maybe he's right, maybe you did get a buzz from the secondhand exposure, but it doesn't influence your actions as you lower one hand to his chest. It just happens to fall on his crotch.

"Mm," he pulls away with a suppressed laugh, "you're actually high? Your hands just got a mind of their own."

"Then tie them," you offer in a breath. His brows shoot up, but his surprise doesn't prevent him from unbuckling his belt singlehandedly.

"A bondage kink? Who are you and what did you do to my nerdy girlfriend?" His joke emits a small laugh from you but his smile falters once his belt is in his hand. "Take your shirt off first."

It's no longer a guess when you slip out of the turtleneck in a flash; you are under some spell when you stand and hold your wrists together. The leather grazes your skin and sends delighted tingles down your spine.

"I hope I'm not going fucking crazy and hallucinating this," you hear him whisper behind you. A laugh escapes you and interrupts his internal monologue, and the buckle is clasped. "Now for the shorts..."

He stands up, pressing himself against you and peeking from your shoulder to undo the button of your denim shorts. You can feel his erection grinding against you when he tugs them down to falll at your ankles. You step out of the garment and turn around. When he gets out of your way, he gestures you to lie down and your hands are pressing against your back when you do so.

You watch him take his short off before straddling you and leaning down for another kiss. It's merely foreplay; he cups your clothed pussy and runs his hand down up and down, prompting you to sigh into him. He bites your bottom lip just as he slips his fingers past your underwear, murmuring against your lips, "Can you take me right now?"

"I think so," you shy. "I want to."

"Good," he sighs and removes his hand to massage his erection while undressing you completely. "I think... this is a better lesson."

"For what?"

"You don't know?" he pushes the cup of your bra to pinch your nipple mercilessly, and he hears your pain through your small scream. "A guy got burnt for no reason then?"

"No, no, I know," you gasp when he twists your sensitive nub, "because I'm stupid and I shouldn't have ignored you." Your back lifts off the mattress when you clench your teeth to suppress another scream. Despite your bounds hands, it's him talking down on you that renders you submissive.

"Mhm," he's condescending in his speech, "he did something wrong, but so did you, right? This is just the consequences of your actions, isn't it?"

It's his stinging touch that makes you agree to whatever he says, and you whine, "Yes!"

That's the only confirmation he needs to push his jeans down to his thighs along with his briefs, and your now bare pussy shies away from his cock by bending your knees. He pushes your legs even closer to you, and your efforts went against your intention by exposing yourself to him completely now. "You're so pretty," he admires with slight awe, "but I can't be shallow... You don't deserve to treated well."

His words make you shutter; you didn't do anything that wrong, but you aren't courageous enough to voice your thoughts. Everything he's told you today have turned out right, so he knows better to make that call. You stay unresponsive, head turned to the side to avoid his fierce gaze.

"No, you should hurt as much as he did," he mutters to himself as he trails a finger down your folds. You shiver and his gaze travels to your shy one. "What? Are you scared?"

You are unconfident with your denial, "No."

"Look at me then."

It's with a deep inhale that you glance at him, and your breath is caught in your throat when he shoves himself inside. Your whimpers resound brokenly in the bedroom where the bass of the music drowns it out. You feel the vibrations, but it doesn't serve as a distraction and you're aware that Jungkook can pick up your pained noises. He's simply ignoring you, but you can't dwell on the thought when he lets you adjust for a few seconds only before ramming into you. Your whines aren't enough for him, after all, what's a better indication of pain than a scream of agony?

His thrusts are out of rhythm, but quick and rough nonetheless as his hands push you deeper into the mattress as if to hold you down before taking your nipple in his mouth—more specifically between his teeth to bite.

"Jungkook!" It's not a gentle bite, and you know it wasn't meant to be, but you try to squirm away nonetheless. Your flight instinct is futile because his strength overpowers yours, keeping you in place with his palms while you struggle and cry.

"No more, please!" You wail when he finally sits up, and he watches you bounce back and forth due to the force of his thrusts. It's so pleasing, especially your moans, but mixed with your bitching... it's irritating.

He grunts, the sound bordering on a growl before he says, "You deserve worse."

"I don't! I didn't do anything." Your protests fall on deaf ears, or rather ears that need you to shut up. He wraps his hand around your neck in a chokehold, daring you to speak with his grip as he moans through a bit lip.

"Your ass was hanging out in a room filled with men," he speaks in between moans while you gasp to catch your breath, sounds of pleasure getting suck in your throat when he slams deep enough to hit your sensitive spot. "You didn't listen to me! Ah..."

Your windpipe is getting crushed the tighter his grip gets, and your cheeks start to flush until he drops his hand to lift your hips, spanking you while you wheeze. "You want attention that bad?" His words are mere gasps when he starts to lose himself, now gripping your waist to match his thrusts for you.

"Only yours," you muster out as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, letting him do all the work while you get closer to your climax.

"Lying whore." He slaps your tit before completely concentrating on his release, inching closer and closer by the second teasingly. It builds up in his stomach, and his abs contract and tense while he pistons his cock inside you faster, not drained enough to get sloppy just yet. It's when a loud moan resounds in the room, reducing to pants with slow drags of his length. "God, yes..."

You feel it when he cums, painting your walls white and warming up your insides, and he rubs your clit so fast that it has you seeing stars in mere seconds. It's so quick, the high, and your moan is music to his ears; he's too spent to enjoy it any longer before he collapses next to you.

"Fuck, please let me tie you up again," he breathes while you recover from the euphoric sensation he brought you by twitching and seeing white. You're panting when his hand falls on your stomach.

"Please... I'll be nicer if you let me. Hm?"

#textbook love #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #networkbangtan #kpopnetwork

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mviswidow · 4 years ago

Text

i can’t feel it

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2,727

Warnings: wandavision spoilers!! i recommend catching up before reading this if you haven’t already. also, i cursed like, twice.

A/N: this was literally edited while i was falling asleep, so if there are mistakes, that’s why. Please pm or reply, telling me and I'll go back and fix it.

Prompt: hi!! what about a wanda x reader where r has similar powers to wanda & enters the hex to talk her into letting everyone in westview go & coming home with r? :)

Summary: R has to convince Wanda to let everyone in Westview go.

part two

“Are you sure you remember everything?” Jimmy asked you, concerned about how fast you were being thrown into everything.

You nodded confidently, you were nervous, kind of scared, but ready. After getting a call from Monica, you knew whatever was going on was important, and you made your way to the outskirts of Westview, New Jersey before she even had to tell you what was going on. “Wanda’s robot boyfriend-”

“-Synthezoid,” Jimmy corrected before seeing the look Darcy gave him. “Sorry.”

“Synthezoid boyfriend died because Thanos pulled the mind stone out of his head, she had to watch him die twice and freaked out, stole his body from S.W.O.R.D., and created a fake sitcom reality where she goes through decades because she’s a grieving 30 year old with an odd obsession with tv shows. Oh, and she’s mind controlling a whole town and I’m supposed to convince her to let them go. Almost forgot that one,” You said, pointedly making the lighthearted joke because of Jimmy’s evident stress, chuckling softly.

“Just be careful,” Darcy cut in, “Wanda doesn’t seem to want to leave and we won't know if things go wrong because she chooses what goes in her show and what doesn’t.”

“I’ll be just fine. Let’s go,” You sighed and the four of you started to head out the door, but Hayward pulled you aside before you could leave the building. You told them to go ahead and you would meet them by the car.

“Ms (Y/L/N),” Hayward nodded, and you nodded back to him. Warm greeting, you thought. “Director Hayward.”

“If you cannot get Wanda to submit and release the people of Westview, I want you to fight her. Do whatever you have to, I need the Vision’s body back in S.W.O.R.D. custody and the citizens of Westview to be freed.”

Your brow furrowed, “My assignment is to try to persuade Ms Maximoff. I’m not fighting her, Sir. She’s grieving. I just got here and I can tell. She seems like she just wants to be happy.”

He scoffed at you and shook his head, “Her happiness means nothing to me. Ms Maximoff has thousands held captive. So, I think you’re misunderstanding me, Ms (Y/L/N), I am ordering you to kill her if needed. We need her to bring that barrier down.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Director. I’m just here to try to work things out, not to fight anyone,” You retorted.

“So you would let her continue to mind control the people of Westview? To continue controlling a sentient weapon made of vibranium?” Hayward asked pointedly, but you weren’t having any of it.

“With all due respect, you seem awfully concerned about the Vision when there are ‘thousands held captive’. And regardless, do you have any idea what would happen if Wanda died while all those people were in there?” You paused for a moment, giving him a chance to answer. “I didn’t think so.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and huffed, quickly making your way to the car that was waiting to take you to the border of the hex, Darcy, Monica, and Jimmy sat inside of it.

“What did he want?” Jimmy asked.

You sighed and started playing with the sleeve of your long sleeved shirt, “He wants me to kill Wanda if she doesn’t stop mind controlling Westview.”

Darcy’s eyes widened, “Sorry, what?”

You looked up at her and saw her concerned expression, “Oh, I’m not going to.” You said quickly, not wanting any of them to get the wrong impression. “He isn’t in charge of me. Wanda doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone in Westview, and besides, it would be foolish when we know nothing about what would happen inside the barrier if she died.”

Darcy nodded as Monica parked the car and the four of you got out of it.

“Thank you for doing this, (Y/n),” Monica smiled softly as you reached the hex.

“You know I’m always willing to help you when you need me,” You smiled and looked towards the barrier.

You knew the trio was watching you intently, with the other agents standing outside, waiting for you to go in, but your heart was racing and you had to take a few deep breaths before bringing your hands up, moving your fingers in a way that they recognized to be similar to the way Wanda did, and you stepped closer, the blue light from your powers flowing forward and hitting the hex.

It kind of looked like when food coloring is dropped into water, and the color spreads, except your powers were the food coloring, and the hex was the water.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you pulled your hands further apart and groaned as you slowly but surely pulled apart a section of the barrier that was big enough for you to fit through before walking right through it.

As soon as you were through, you looked behind you and saw nothing. None of the S.W.O.R.D. tents or buildings or cars, Darcy, Monica, Jimmy, and all the other agents who were outside were gone. It was just a plain old normal street.

You looked down at your clothes and chuckled, the 80s. If Wanda had anything, it was a fashion sense, whether it was conscious of it or not. You were dressed in a fitted white shirt, and an electric blue skirt and cropped blazer set. Was it a bit tacky? Sort of, but you couldn’t help but love it. However, you were very pleased that the white boots you were wearing didn’t have too high of a heel.

You sighed and knew you needed to go quickly. Vision had just left for work and this was the best chance you were going to get to talk to Wanda. You doubted she would let you convince her to let everyone go if Vision was there with her.

You extended your arms to the ground below you and used your powers to lift yourself up into the air, waiting until you saw the house you recognized to be Wanda’s to fly down to a street that had no one on it that was close enough for you to arrive quickly.

Your hand trembled as it reached up to knock on the door, but before you could overthink any longer, you tapped your knuckles against the wood three times and waited, playing with your fingers.

Wanda opened the door and smiled, though she wore a confused expression on her face, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before, or have we?”

You offered a smile and shook your head, “We haven’t, I’m (Y/n).”

“Wanda,” she said, with a lilt in her voice.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if you aren’t busy? It’s important.”

She gazed at you curiously before nodding and stepping out of the way, “Come inside.”

You walked inside her home, the feeling you got was weird. You’d seen it on Darcy’s tv, but it was different to actually be in the room.

Wanda noticed the way your eyes flicked around her living room, looking at the couch, the photos hanging, the random decorations, and the few toys on the floor.

“Do you want something to drink?” She asked politely, before noticing you staring at one of the toys Tommy happened to favor. “My boys are upstairs.”

You smiled politely and shook your head, “I’m alright, Wanda, thank you. I need to talk to you about what you’re doing.” You started, not very strongly, but it wasn’t like you could just blurt out what you needed to say. This was a difficult situation.

“I’m sorry?” She tilted her head, not catching on, but she looked worried.

“I know about your powers, you’re controlling everyone in Westview, and Vision is starting to-”

“Leave,” Wanda extended her hands and tried to levitate you out, but you put your hands at your side and grounded yourself, blue mist surrounding your feet.

Wanda faltered and her eyes widened at the sight of your powers, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I was sent here to convince you to let everyone in Westview go. I promise I don’t mean you any harm, I just want things to go smoothly so no one else gets hurt.”

Wanda shook her head, “I can't just let go of this, I finally have everything I want.”

You sighed and nodded, “I understand how you feel, I have lost family too, but the people of Westview, they have their own lives and families. They’re in pain, Wanda. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Her eyes snapped up and met yours, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. She shook her head, “I can’t feel it.”

You stood for a moment, the two of you just looking at each other, before taking a breath and letting the blue mist that was keeping you grounded fade away. Cautiously, you walked closer to her and let out a breath of relief when she wasn’t backing away or looking like she was going to attack you.

“You can look into minds, can’t you?” You asked, knowing that showing her the pain she was unknowingly putting these people through was the best chance you had at convincing her to do the right thing.

Wanda nodded without saying anything and understood what you wanted her to do. Shakily, she lifted her hand and bit her lip, she looked scared.

You blinked a few times, thought, fuck it, and gently held her wrist, bringing her hand up to your temple. You watched her eyes glow red before closing your eyes, allowing Wanda to see inside your mind.

All Wanda could feel was an unbearable amount of agony, she heard thousands of voices overlapping each other, panicked screams and crying. It was too much. Everyone sounded so scared. She did this.

The feeling was excruciating and let out a strangled sob, which made your eyes open on instinct.

Tears were flowing freely down Wanda’s face and she slowly sank to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

You got down on the floor in front of her and held one of her hands, using your other one to tilt her chin up towards you, “It’s okay, Wanda.”

She shook her head furiously and squeezed your hand, leaning forward, into you.

You wrapped your arm around her and let her cry into your shoulder. Your stomach felt twisted and you couldn’t believe Hayward had asked you to kill Wanda if she refused to comply, not when she was reacting like this.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” She managed to get out between deep breaths and whimpers. “I just - I wanted Vis back.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you ignored them, knowing that you had to focus on Wanda, “I know, it’s okay. Everything will be okay. You just have to put down the barriers around Westview and stop mind controlling everyone.”

Wanda’s breath hitched, but she nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You asked. Surprised at how you managed to get her to listen to you.

“I’ll do it now,” She sniffled and wiped her tears, standing up slowly.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Well, hold on, don’t you want to see Vision first? Or call the twins down here?”

Her lips pressed together as another tear slipped down her cheek and she shook her head, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I allow myself to see them again,” She said quietly.

You nodded and stepped back, letting her go about this whatever way she wanted.

You watched her work, even though the two of you were inside, you could see out the window that the sky had turned red and it was gradually getting more blue, looking like she was chipping off pieces of the sky, if the sky was red, away from the inside out.

Before you knew it, the house the two of you were standing in had been reduced to the foundation of a home, just concrete laying on the floor in the shape of the house Wanda had been living in.

She was wearing a burgundy shirt, a jacket, and jeans instead of the big jeans and plaid shirt she’d had on before, and you were back to wearing your comfortable grey long sleeved shirt and jeans.

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she turned towards you before her breath started to quicken.

You wore a pained expression and stepped towards her, holding your arms out. You thought she was going to deny the embrace you were offering her, but she walked forward and buried her head in your neck, letting you wrap your arms around her, “I’m really proud of you, Wanda. It takes a lot to be able to give up something that important to you.”

She nodded, but said nothing. You stood there for about two more minutes before her breathing had calmed and she’d stopped crying. “Thank you, (Y/n).”

You nodded and smiled sadly at her before you both looked towards the red buick that was now sitting in her driveway, “I think I’m going to have to take you back out of Westview with me. I’ll get in trouble if I just let you leave, I think.”

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” She fished the keys to her car out of her pocket and played with the keyring. “Do you think you can drive us? I kind of want to look around before we leave.”

You took her keys and she let out a breath before quietly thanking you and walking to the passenger seat of her car.

Before you pulled out of the driveway, you spoke, “How did you do all of this?” You asked curiously. Sure, you had magic yourself, but there was no way you could even dream about pulling off anything like this.

“I’m not sure. All I remember is feeling so completely alone and sad, and I went to S.W.O.R.D. to see Vis for the last time before coming here, because Hayward wouldn’t let me take his body to give him a funeral or anything, so I guess I made a version of him here. I really don’t know how I managed though, because -”

“Sorry,” You interrupted, turning to look at her with your brows knitted together. “You said the Vision stayed in S.W.O.R.D.?”

“Yes?” She nodded. “What is it?”

You huffed and started the engine of the car, pulling out of the driveway, “The lying bastard. Hayward edited security camera footage to make it look like you stole the Vision’s body and used it here.”

“That’s ridiculous. I know better than to make myself a criminal again. Well, I mean-”

“It’s fine Wanda. You didn’t mean to,” You continued driving, enjoying the neighborhood.

When you were getting close to the edge of town, she spoke again. “Am I going to jail?”

“I won’t let them put you in jail,” You said simply.

“What, why?” Wanda asked, and it was clear that she was asking because she thought she deserved it and she was expecting it to happen.

“You don’t deserve it,” You shrugged. You didn’t want her to suffer alone, again. She already tried that, and look where that got everyone.

Wanda shook her head, “You know that isn’t true.”

“I believe it is. I know that your actions were wrong, but Hayward was wrong for denying you when you asked for Vision’s body to bury. It wasn’t his to have. All he cares about is money and power and the Vision would cost a lot of money and would give him a lot of power. I mean, realistically, he’s kind of the cause for this. But that’s not the point. The point is that it was never your intention to hurt these people and it’s not fair to you that he set you up like this.”

“And what will you do if they try to put me in jail?” Wanda asked curiously, her voice low.

You sighed as you started to be able to make out Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy from far away. “I dunno, maybe we can run away together or something.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wlw imagine #sapphic #wandavision #wandavision imagine #wandavision oneshot #fanfic

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queenoftheworldisdead · 4 years ago

Text

Six feet

Chapter 3

Summary: Your family's small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. Warning: 18 + Only, Dark themes, blood, slight inappropriate touching, slow burn

Note: no smut this chapter

Dark Steve x Reader, Mob AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

As you cleaned your instruments by the sink your father rushed passed the morgue's door.

"Oh dear lord" the old man huffed as he jogged down the hall. You paused and listened as the rear door opened and a cacophony of voices barreled through the hall, growing in volume as they neared.

When things became clear you frowned. Three men burst through the morgues doors. You watched as Steve and your father helped a heavily injured, Bucky, through the room, on to the stainless steel embalming table.

Your stomach knotted as you watched your father help the man that assaulted you. He had thoroughly interrogated you the first night you came back from the club, but you left out that unnecessary detail. Thankfully since that night Bucky had not been in his office to greet you, but that did little to stop the tightening of your gut when you walked through his office door.

You watched on as Bucky bled profusely on the table and by the looks of things he would be going in one of those cabinets soon. If he died you doubt that would hold in baring in regard to your fathers entanglement.

Gingerly your father backed away and stood next to you, his face riddle with remorse.

"Hang in there Buck" Steve pleaded with his bloody companion. "Bruce is on the way" he reassured over Bucky's grunts, his left side the main focus of his attention.

Whoever Bruce was you doubt he would make it here to make a difference if the blood didn't slow. If he died good riddance one less mobster to deal with.

"Are we just waiting for him to die before we burn him" you asked your father quietly as you watched Bucky writhe in pain.

"Shh quiet. Bucky's the gate keeper that holds that beast at bay." Your father's head drenched with sweat, his concern written all over his face.

How much worse could Steve be? You had mistaken him for the leader of the pack the first night, but your father was quick to educate you that there were two heads to the beast that ran the city.

You looked at him for a moment before looking back at the men across the room.

Without a word you dug through your cabinet. You grabbed the fabric scissor, a tool you used many a time to let out clothes for the bodies to fit and an aspirator, a long metal rod. Despite the fact that he had assaulted you, you had to force yourself to push past that. Maybe if you helped saved him, they might let your dad out of his agreement.

"What are you doing?" Steve challenged, finally noticing you, you paused for a moment with your back to him. When you turned to face him you tried to swallow your nerve. Steve was a man to be feared, that fact made more clear as he hovered over his friend like a mother bear protecting its cub.

"We need to stop the bleeding. If we don't he won't last much longer" You pointed out calmly, approaching with the tools, placing them on the metal tray next to Bucky. Steve observed you cautiously, but when Bucky moaned again, this time much lower than before his attention went back to Bucky, who looked semi conscious.

"Dad can you get a pillow from one of the displays please."

Taking the scissors you quickly began cutting through his sleeves and across his chest, tossing the bloodied fabric to the ground. When he hadn't move you gave him a quick side eye making him falter, reluctantly leaving you alone with the mobsters.

There was so much blood you weren't sure where to start or what you were trying to accomplish. There seemed to be several bullet holes along his arm and left side. Some exit wounds and a few you were sure had not. There was also the bone that looked to be protruding from a gaping hole, splintered badly. It was if he took a shotgun blast to his arm.

"I need your help tightening the tourniquet. " You tried to sound sure of yourself, but the hope in Steve's eyes ignored that. High up his arm you made use of the discarded sleeves. Bucky felt as if he were growing cold, with his drop in temperature you felt the anxiousness of his partner.

"What do I do?" Steve sounded desperate, you rattled out orders as Steve neared, taking the aspirator in his hand. The long piece of metal needed to be used to whined the fabric and cut off the circulation.

Once Steve finished the tourniquet you hurried over to the drawers against the wall that held various supplies. You didn't know if you should sew up the wounds that had an exit point or try and fish out the ones logged inside.

"I thought you said this was just a patch-up" a strange man mostly slurred out, accompanied by Thor and Sam, followed by your father. The nervous older man kept his head down as he moved past the other mobsters to place a satin pillow under Bucky's head.

"What the fuck is Strange doing here?" Steve fumed at his men.

"Hey.. hey relax. We couldn't find Bruce." As Sam spoke the vein on the side of Steve's head looked like it would burst. The new man that stood apart from the group looked as if they dragged him from the side of the road. His hair was wild and just as wiry as the beard on his face. His torn, disheveled clothes led you to believe that he did not come along willingly.

Steve's phone rang interrupting his tirade. Taking his bloodied hand he dug it out and placed it to his ear. His ire finding a new focus with the caller on the phone. He raked fingers through his hair, making his locks turn crimson.

"Fix him" Steve commanded Strange with the phone still pressed to his ear. His attention split in three different directions. You watched Steve's face contorted, whoever it was on the other end did not call with good news. Giving a sullen look to the man slipping out of consciousness Steve stormed out.

Strange seemed nonplussed by Steve, but that might had much to due with his liquid courage. The smell of which permeated off him as he neared you.

"You.. you work here?" Strange snapped at you.

"Yes.." You answered quickly. He eyed you up and down as he walked over casually to the sink. Washing his hands like a surgeon before a procedure.

"Do you have a bone saw?" Strange inquired.

You replied 'yes' and without further instruction you retrieved the electric saw. Along with it you brought over another disposable smock and gloves.

"Hey whoa whoa" Sam called out as he watched the exchange. Strange's hands looked off, bending unnaturally as if they had been crushed by a hammer. You looked at him with concern, he looked ashamed as he frowned, taking the items from you, hiding his hands under the pile. "What do you mean saw?" Sam stressed at the lack of response.

"There is no saving that arm." Strange replied curtly, the booze in his system you were sure fueling his courage. He dressed in the smock quickly and placed tools from his bag next to the tray."I need to cut it off and sew up what's left." Strange huffed as he dressed awkwardly in front of the group.

The shiny, toothy, steel rested on Bucky's wet arm. Strange pressed the teeth hard against Bucky's flesh, he took one last deep breath and then flicked the switch on the electrical saw. The high pitch of the machine was only matched by the screams of Bucky. He rose as the blade tore through him, thrashing wildly atop the table in pain.

"Hold him!" Strange commanded.

Thor was the first to hold his shoulders down, your father moved over to help hold down his mid section, while you and Sam took hold of his legs. Bucky thrashed against his friends and screamed in pain. The tourniquet did little to stop the flow of blood, but Strange was not concerned.

"We can't do anything about the pain?" Thor shouted over Bucky’s agony.

"This is a morgue, people are normally way past pain when they arrive" you shouted back. If Strange had anything he didn't care to offer. If he was a doctor you wondered how he got mixed into this world. Maybe he wanted Bucky to feel every bit of this, maybe he was the cause of his injuries.

By the time Strange got to the bone Bucky passed out and you worried if he would wake up by the time finished.

The arm fell to the floor, Strange wasted no time in rushing to get his sutures.

When your eyes strayed from Strange's work you found Steve barreling through the door. His eyes dilated with fury at the sight of his mutilated friend.

"You fucking butcher" Steve charged Strange. Sam and Thor did nothing to stop him. His light eyes turned dark. He was going to kill Strange.

"Steve stop!" You interjected, standing in-between Steve and Strange. The fact that he halted left you in amazement, it felt as if you stopped a charging bull mid stride. Steve's eyes struggled to pull their focus towards you, but once there they burned with intensity.

"Your friend is going to be just fine." You spoke carefully, if it was a lie Strange didn't speak to contradict.

"Strange is a doctor right?" In the corner of your eye you could see Strange's frozen apprehension that mirrored your father's.

When Bucky gargled in pain his eyes shifted to the bed again. You truly didn't care if Bucky died, but from the look in Steve's eyes you couldn't guarantee he wouldn't dispose of you and your father in a fit of anger and grief. You needed to get Steve out and let the man work.

"Come on.." You looked at Steve pleadingly. Stepping closer to the massive man, growing bolder as you raised a hand to stroke his arm, holding your nerve and when he didn't protest you linked him.

A technique you watched your father use many a time with widowers that were over come with emotion. His eyes looked down at the placement of your hand, but he didn't brush you off. "..let the doctor work." Nervously you walked him out of the room.

When the door closed Bucky's agonizing cries seeped through into the hall. Steve planted his feet, making you stumble backwards a bit. This was as far as he was willing to let you take him. With his back to the door, Steve squeezed your hand tightly. His eyes red and glassed with water.

The strength it took for him to not let them fall was a familiar sight. You had watched many times before, men desperately holding things together for the sake of their family.

You stepped closer, closing the space in-between, his hard look turned soft with confusion. Slipping your hand around the back of his head while wrapping your other hand around his shoulder, cradling him into a hug.

"This isn't your fault." You whispered into his ear. You weren't even sure if that was the case, but it sounded like something he needed to hear.

"He would've made the same decisions I'm sure if it were you."

Steve bent, but his arms stayed on his side. The awkward embrace made you second guess your decisions thus far. You felt out of your depth, your father was the comforter, he always knew what to say while you preferred to keep your distance.

When you felt him lift his arms, almost unsure of himself as he began to embrace you. It was as if, with his men away he gave himself permission to be soft. You wondered how long it had been sense he made a decision that made him question himself so deeply.

"Everything dies around me." Steve's voice cracked a little as he talked and then you felt a wetness on your shoulder. It was clear he blamed himself for the events of the night.

"It's OK, he is gonna be OK" you reassured calmly. Another lie you fed him to give comfort. You felt his head nuzzle into your neck, his hug grew tighter as you rubbed circles on his back. Steve's nose glided gently along your neck, quietly inhaling you, making you stiffen.

Stepping a leg back you attempted to brake the embrace gingerly, but his arms tensed, tightening around you.

"S-steve.." you stuttered. A peck so light on your neck sent prickles all throughout your body, you had to convince yourself it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Until Steve's palm started to move and your heart started to pounded hard the lower it got. The thought of him using you as a distraction crossed your mind and hoped with everything you were wrong. When his hands smoothed over the curve of your ass you stifled a gasp.

Steve's embrace fell when the door knob rustled behind him. Giving you a chance to back away.

"The doctors finished" your father poked through the door.Steve didn't turn to face him, his face reddened and wet.

"We will be there in a minute." You assured him. He nodded at you and closed the door leaving you alone with the emotional mobster yet again.

"Sorry I don't normally" he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Let’s just go check on your friend" You cut him off before he could explain any further.

#mob steve #mob boss steve #Dark Steve x Reader #Dark!Steve x Reader #Dark!Steve x Black!Reader #Dark!Steve x Black Reader #Dark Steve x Black!Reader #Dark Steve x Black Reader #Black writer

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buckybarnesdollface · 4 years ago

Text

First One Loses

Summary: Bucky and Reader have to make everything a competition, to the point where it drives the rest of the team nuts. But can their competitiveness lead to something more than the sexual tension between two frenemies?

Warnings: Smut, Female reader

“Ha! I win!” I exclaimed, jumping up from the couch excitedly as the Penguins scored the winning goal against the Rangers in overtime. The scowl on Bucky’s face was dark, and the others rolled their eyes. I grinned as I held out my hand to Bucky. “C’mon, Barnes, pay up. My team beat yours, you owe me.”

“I hate you,” he grumbled as he dropped a crumpled twenty-dollar bill into my palm. I stuck my tongue out at him as I pocketed it, and his glare intensified.

“Do you two have to make everything into a competition?” Steve sighed.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “We can’t enjoy anything anymore without you two turning it into a game that turns into a fight. We’re just gonna start excluding you from things.”

I shrugged. “Maybe if Barnes wasn’t such a sore loser…” I pointed out, and Bucky shot up from his armchair.

“You know what, (Y/N) –” he started, but Steve hopped up and placed himself between us before it could escalate.

“Enough!” he ordered, using his authoritative Captain America voice. “Now, we were going to watch a movie, but if you two can’t grow up long enough to do that then you can find somewhere else to act like children.”

Bucky scowled. “I can behave, it’s her you should be concerned about,” he muttered, and I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, shut it, Barnes,” I snapped, and then I turned to Steve with a sugary-sweet smile on my face. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Stevie, I promise. I’m just gonna go grab some snacks and drinks while you boys pick out a movie.”

With one last smile I headed out to the kitchen. I had just emptied a bag of tortilla chips into a bowl when Bucky stalked into the kitchen, blue eyes narrowed into slits.

“Next game, fifty bucks,” he snapped, and I snorted.

“Oh, honey, when are you gonna learn that your team never beats mine?” I taunted as I pulled a jar of salsa out of the cupboard. “If you want to win at something, maybe pick a different game.”

“I’ve beat you at plenty of things,” Bucky shot back. “For instance, you’d never win in a one-on-one with me.”

“The hell I wouldn’t!” I cried. “I’d kick your ass, old man.”

“In what universe, doll? The only reason I’m not proving I could beat you is because maybe I’d feel slightly guilty if I hurt you.”

I barked out a laugh. “The only reason I’m not proving to you that I’d win is because I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the guys. Imagine how it would look if the Winter Soldier got his ass handed to him by a girl.”

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky snarled, eyes dark as he fixed them on me intensely. I bit my lip, meeting his eyes with a challenging gaze.

“Or what…James?”

What happened next happened in a blur. Suddenly, Bucky’s vibranium hand was around my throat as his large body trapped me against the counter. His grip was neither tight enough to cut off my air supply nor leave bruises, but it was enough to remind me that he could very easily crush my windpipe if he wanted to. For a split second I was paralyzed, afraid that maybe I had finally pushed him too far. Ever since we’d met our relationship had consisted of trying to best each other at almost everything while getting under each other’s skin, but it had never resulted in anything more than banter. But now, as my breaths quickened and my heart hammered against my ribcage, I feared I’d crossed a line.

So when Bucky’s lips crashed against mine, my eyes widened in shock. He tasted of iced tea and his hand on my throat was cool, and it took a moment before I could gather my senses enough to shove him away from me. He released his grip on my throat but didn’t step back, his body still dangerously close to mine.

“Barnes, wh-what are you doing?” I stuttered. His eyes were still intense as they continued to hold mine.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)? Did you think I was actually going to hurt you?”

“Of course not,” I scoffed, but Bucky shook his head with a smirk.

“I could feel your pulse, doll; your heart rate spiked,” he murmured. “So either you were scared, or you’re a lot filthier than everyone thinks you are. Which one is it?”

Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t do something to me. I shouldn’t have even entertained the thought; I should have pushed past him and taken the snacks to the common room so we could watch the movie with Steve and Sam. But ever since I’d met Bucky there had been unresolved sexual tension between us, and my curiosity to see how he planned to resolve it outweighed my ability to make good decisions.

“You don’t scare me, Barnes,” I said defiantly, and with a grin Bucky’s lips were back on mine. His hands found my hips as mine clenched at the front of his black t-shirt, backing me up against the counter, and when my teeth grazed his bottom lip he growled into my mouth.

“I had a feeling you were the type of girl to like it rough,” he breathed, hands on my hips tightening. I tugged at his shirt to pull him closer to me.

“Are you telling me you’ve given this some thought, Barnes?” I taunted. His lips were hot on my throat as I spoke. “Do you think about me at night while you’re lying in bed and can’t sleep?”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, (Y/N),” Bucky replied as he nipped playfully at the shell of my ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Oh, you mean the disgust?”

Bucky laughed. “You can use sass to deflect all you want, doll; doesn’t change the fact that you’ve thought about this as much as I have.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d thought about what it would be like more often than I’d like to admit even to myself – Surely with a body like that, it wouldn’t disappoint. I only smiled demurely, though, fingers closing around Bucky’s belt buckle to pull him closer to me.

“A lady never tells,” I murmured. Bucky’s smirk was wicked.

“I don’t see any ladies here.”

I rolled my eyes as my fingers undid his belt buckle and then popped the button of his jeans. “Shut up for once, Barnes,” I growled, “so we can do this before Steve and Sam come looking for us.”

Before I could get my hand in his pants, Bucky was lifting me and sitting me on the cool marble countertop and standing between my legs, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re such a romantic,” he taunted as his hands rubbed up and down my thighs. I huffed.

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

“That’s the plan.”

Then his mouth was back on mine, hands exploring skin under shirts as tongues fought for dominance. When we broke apart to catch our breaths, I grinned mischievously.

“How about we make this interesting,” I suggested, and Bucky cocked a dark eyebrow.

“More interesting than us hooking up in the kitchen where anyone could walk in on us?” he said, fingertips grazing the skin just below the cup of my bra. I suppressed a soft moan and flashed him my brightest smile.

“First one to make a noise loses.”

I watched as Bucky’s eyes went from widening in shock to narrowing as a slow grin spread across his face. “(Y/N)…” he murmured, squeezing my hips playfully. “What will the stakes be, though?”

“If I win,” I said, “you have to do all my paperwork for a month.”

“Deal,” he said, more quickly than I had expected. I arched an eyebrow.

“That easy? Wow,” I said, almost cautiously.

Bucky’s smile was a mile wide. “And if I win,” he murmured, “you go on a date with me.”

I blinked, thinking maybe I had heard him wrong. But his smile never faltered, bordering on smug as he watched what was sure to be an entire rollercoaster of emotions on my face. Finally, I shook my head, confused.

“I’m sorry, did you say a date?” I asked incredulously. “Barnes, are you messing with me?”

“Not at all, doll,” he replied. “If I win, we go out on a date. I get to pick the time and place. Do we have a deal?”

“A date.” My head was still reeling. Bucky’s hands on me had stilled, and although his smile was still playful his eyes were serious. I pursed my lips, unsure of what game he was playing at, but finally I exhaled a sigh and nodded. “Fine. Deal. Game on, but only because I know I’ll win and I won’t have to worry about it.”

Blue eyes sparkling, Bucky captured my lips in another hungry kiss. My hands were back at the waistband of his jeans, fingertips dancing along the skin of his abdomen and as his muscles clenched under my touch I grinned into the kiss. Tugging down his zipper, I slipped my hand into the denim and palmed him through his underwear, delighted with how large and solid he was. I could feel his sharp intake of breath as his lips briefly stilled against mine, but no noise came out and my brows furrowed together in frustration. Hand slipping past the cotton of his boxer briefs, I gripped him in my hand, marvelling briefly at how hot and heavy and velvety-soft yet rock-hard he was, and then gave a few experimental pumps.

Bucky’s breath came out ragged and his hands on my waist tightened in a bruising grip, but still no noise. When I pulled back to meet his eyes, though, he looked absolutely wrecked and I could feel the arousal pooling in my panties. His hands found the waistband of my leggings and tugged lightly, and I lifted my hips so he could slide them and my underwear from my body to be discarded on the floor at his feet. My fingers were still wrapped around his throbbing member, but when Bucky’s flesh hand snaked between my thighs to swipe lightly through my folds, I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning, my grip on him tightening involuntarily.

Bucky’s teeth clenched, but then he pulled his hand away from me and I was about to glare at him until I watched him lift his fingers, glistening with my arousal, to his mouth to suck them clean, his eyes holding mine the entire time.

Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest, most sinful thing I had ever seen before. Unable to wait a second longer, I hooked my legs around Bucky’s waist to pull him closer, my hand guiding his length to my entrance. With sparkling eyes he took over, sliding his member through my slick folds before sliding home in one powerful thrust.

The air was momentarily knocked from my lungs, and my hands gripped Bucky’s arms – one hot flesh and one unyielding metal – to ground myself. He only gave me a few seconds to adjust to his size before he was pulling out and then pushing back in, setting a ruthless pace that had every nerve in my body buzzing with pleasure. I had imagined sex with Bucky would be good, but this – This was on an entirely different level from what I had ever experienced before. I was climbing higher and faster than I’d thought possible, and even though I wanted to be able to drag out this feeling as long as I could, I knew it was only a matter of time before Steve and Sam started getting suspicious.

Bucky’s mouth had been planting sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on my throat, but now his lips had made their way back up to claim mine heatedly. His hands on me were dizzying, bordering on possessive, holding me tight to him as he drove into me with vigor. My legs around him tightened, one hand under his shirt to rake my nails down his back while the other carded through his hair to tug at the ends. It was all tongues and teeth, hot flesh and desperate grasping, and as we climbed higher it felt less like a competition of who could make who cry out first, and more like a need to be as close to each other as humanly possible.

Trying to focus on my original goal, I purposely clenched around Bucky and rolled my hips, but his resolve was iron-strong and the only thing I earned was a particularly hard thrust as his teeth nipped at my jaw. When his vibranium hand snaked down to rub circles on my clit, that was it; I couldn’t stop the low moan that vibrated past my lips. I wanted to be mad at myself for losing our bet, but Bucky’s cock and his hands and lips were playing me like a violin and all I could focus on was how tight the coil in my stomach was.

“Bucky…” I whined, completely succumbing to my defeat, and a growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest as he continued to piston his hips into me.

“Come for me, doll,” he panted, fingers working my clit furiously. He swallowed my moan in a deep kiss and then pulled away, his forehead pressed to mine. “C’mon, (Y/N); you’re close, I can feel it. Come for me, baby girl.”

And just like that, the coil snapped and stars exploded in my eyes. I bit down on Bucky’s shoulder to muffle my cry, and then Bucky’s hips stuttered and he was emptying himself inside me with a quiet groan. For a minute we stayed there, clutching at each other as our breathing slowed, and then Bucky was pulling out of me and I slid off the counter onto unsteady feet.

I coughed, trying to fill the now-awkward silence, and as Bucky handed me my discarded clothes, I mumbled a thanks. As I yanked my leggings back up my legs, I watched Bucky shimmy his hips back into his jeans before buckling his belt. I was waiting for him to say something, but he was being frustratingly silent.

“Steve and Sam are definitely wondering where we are,” he finally said, grabbing some beers from the fridge. “We should get back in there before they ask too many questions.”

“Wait.” I shook my head. “After what just happened, that’s all you have to say?”

“Of course not, doll,” he said, and then he came over and stood so that I was caged between him and the counter. His smile was wicked as he leaned in until his face was centimetres from mine, and I hated the way my body was reacting to being this close to him. “Tomorrow night,” he murmured, hot breath fanning over my face, “wear something pretty for our date.”

With that he pulled away with a wink and turned, heading back to the common room. I glared after him, but it was half-hearted. My stomach was doing flip-flops and I tried to suppress them as I grabbed the chips and salsa and followed Bucky to the common room.

“So what movie did you guys pick?” I asked as I walked in, forcing myself to act as if nothing had happened. I set the chips and salsa on the coffee table and popped a chip into my mouth.

“Top Gun,” Steve replied, and I nodded my approval. I turned to my chair as Sam hit ‘play’ on the remote, but froze when I found Bucky sitting there, grinning up at me like the Cheshire cat.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, face smug, and I could feel my neck grow hot.

“You’re in my chair, Barnes.”

His arms swept wide around the room. “There are plenty of seats in here. You can’t claim a chair as yours.”

“Except I always sit there,” I growled, and Bucky shrugged.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“Fine,” I said, and then I walked over and plopped down into his lap. “If you won’t move, you’ll have to share.”

I could feel Bucky’s muscles tense up beneath me, and Steve and Sam both looked at us with wide eyes. I only adjusted myself in Bucky’s lap, though, making myself more comfortable, and finally Bucky’s arm circled loosely around me as he chuckled.

“I guess I can share,” he teased lightly, and Sam shook his head.

“You two are the worst,” he griped. “Just…keep your hands where we can see them. You’ve already defiled the kitchen; this room is off limits.”

I blanched. “What?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Do you really think we don’t know what was going on out there?” he asked. “I don��t care how quiet you think you were being; you seem to forget that supersoldier hearing is a thing.”

The blush crept up my neck, and Bucky chuckled ruefully. “Sorry, Stevie. We’ll behave.”

“You’d better. Goddamn animals,” Sam grumbled. My embarrassment grew, but as the movie started to play the guys’ attention was diverted. Bucky’s arm around me tightened and his lips were light at my ear.

“How about we make that date tonight instead,” he murmured. “I wanna do this right, but I also don’t think I can wait until tomorrow night to be inside you again.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Bucky…”

“Ssh, doll, I told Stevie we’d behave. Watch the movie, and I promise I’ll make tonight a night you’ll never forget.”

A shiver ran down my spine, but I strengthened my resolve and settled in to watch the movie. After all, I was never one to back down from a challenge.

#bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky reader insert #smut #mcu #fluff #frenemies #enemies to lovers #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #semi-public sex

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