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bonesofapoet · 2 years

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111 posts created (12%)

#kas says things - 92 posts

#eddie munson - 48 posts

#silco - 32 posts

#star wars - 30 posts

#stranger things - 28 posts

#andor - 27 posts

#kas writes - 24 posts

#jason todd - 18 posts

#arcane - 16 posts

#fic rec - 15 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

the shadow’s crown

[aemond targaryen x you] (non targaryen reader)

author’s note: this man is single-handedly ruining my plans of finishing all my wips this month for nano :) language

word count: 643

In a long forgotten tower, two lone figures contemplated a tear in the fabric of their lives.

They lounged on a narrow staircase, dirty and crumbling with age. Dust motes drifted through the air from abandonment. Honey gold streams of sunlight illuminated the floaters through two cloudy window panes above them. It was a challenge to make out what the design in the stained glass used to be, through the grime. Cracks spiderwebbed from a single focal point where something smashed through it long ago; yet this accident is what provided them with the most light.

Silence, heavy with reality painted the air they breathed. It was a discomfort. It was a wakeup call. It was the only moment they could slip away like this, for a while.

A sigh escaped your lips, shaky with the weight of a life forever changed in an instant - though not for the better. You began to wonder if anyone's life changed for the better, anymore. Maybe someone, somewhere, was draped across another set of stairs in another far off place with their lover, like you did now. Only it wasn't the fate of the realm they were contemplating, but something lovely. Something kind. Something worth celebrating.

"Aegon is going to be king."

It felt like a sin, to speak the words aloud.

"Yes."

A pause.

"Your idiot brother -" you cut yourself off, upon feeling Aemond tense - hardly noticeable, had he not been stretched on the stone before you, chest pulled back against your own. His fingers began to toy with your hands clasped around his waist. "He wouldn’t find his own cock if it wasn't attached to his body."

The tension in the stairwell lessened at your jest. It became less frigid, less ominous, when the prince himself gifted you mercy wrapped in a silver bow. Effortless laughter sung through the darkness and brightened the sunlight illuminating the gloom’s restless cage. Though short lived, and quiet as it was - it was a moment you would come to cherish. This moment was now imprinted upon decaying stone, the song of the prince's laughter to live on in this disrepair forever.

"Be that as it may," a trace of lightness remains in his words. You feel idle patterns drawn on your leg, tension slowly easing with Aemond's hushed words. "He will sit the Iron Throne with mother's guidance, and we will all bear witness to the fool emboldened with power from a kingdom he doesn't want."

Bitterness poisons the air once again. Aemond relaxed farther into you, safe from listening little birds here. No one knew about this place. No one knew this is where you came, when life grew heavy with the burdens of living.

Another pause.

Carefully crafted, should have been the words that fell through your lips - except times are desperate now, and you and Aemond had never hid behind the games of court. Not with one another.

"It should be you. The realm would thrive under your rule. You're the one guiding your family through the dark with the Queen."

Aemond hums. The drawing on your leg ceases, replaced by a palm sliding up your thigh to give a gentle squeeze.

"Desire for a crown has plagued your mind, has it?"

It's unexpected, the laugh abruptly rolling off your tongue. It's a sweet sound, your laughter. Familiar. Warm. Aemond allows himself an easy smile in the dark.

"Absolutely not. You know I have no lust for the weight the Queen carries. Besides -" your hand rests upon Aemond's, his thumb absently stroking your thigh. "I enjoy our life together with little more than what is expected of us."

Lips brush his cheek. Aemond leans into your touch, head tipping back with the intent to kiss you properly, before duty beckons him back from this moment held out of time.

It's gentle, when his lips meet yours. Hands intertwined wherever they lay, reassurance gliding silently from skin to skin. A moment belonging to you and Prince Aemond alone; a balm over old wounds that may reopen anew.

215 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

through the thorns

[ aemond targaryen x you ] (non targaryen reader)

authors note: this was not supposed to be so long but I am simply at the mercy of my whims and impulses and the thirst that trails behind them!! no warnings, really

word count:1901

Life was simple, on an evening like this.

The sky above King's Landing was descending into chaos right before your eyes. Deep reds kissed royal blues on the canvas above the Keep, inspiring the plum hues to swirl with the wispy silver clouds. They hid the first few stars from the wandering eyes in the city below.

It was beautiful, the way the air was tainted pale pink around you. The way it complimented the royal gardens with blooming flowers stark against the oncoming twilight, and - well. It took your breath away. So much so, in fact, that the book cradled in your hands had been long forgotten in favor of such a sight. No words on a page could ever compare to the act of bearing witness to such wild beauty in the flesh.

A balmy breeze ruffled the pages, your place lost in the whim nature provided so seamlessly. So carefree, was this living thing compared to the life you lived at the mercy of duty - especially here, in the eye of all the storms in Westeros. Your time away had proved to be healing, a freedom of its own accord that you had grown accustomed to adore, and, in times such as this - you simply craved the escape.

And yet, you managed to carve out an enjoyable place for yourself, in this place you had once called home. Though, you supposed, the gardens had always been a haven for you. You made a home of them wherever your travels had taken you, regardless of the size, or the curated flora and fauna they nurtured. Beautiful creations had revealed themselves to you, which is why it wasn't an easy admittance - but over time, you had grown to yearn for your favorite blooms growing in the Red Keep.

The familiarity of paths winding secrets through floral arches and emerald mazes called to you on long nights, beckoning you to the forgotten corners that only you and Prince Aemond found solace in, once upon a time.

Some things never changed, it seemed.

It didn't take him long to find you, tucked away against a dead end path of roses climbing towards the sky. They wove and clung to filigreed trellises as they grew, thorns scraping away the white tint with each gust of wind and gods-touched growth towards the sun. They seemed so bright in the failing light - so much so that they almost seemed to glow against the deep crimson petals clinging to the last dying rays of golden light.

This had been your favorite place, years ago. A corner secluded at the far end of the grounds where visitors were hardly ever spied. You would meet here after dark, long after the castle and its congregation had fallen asleep. The sole guarantee of seclusion, the illusion that the two of you were alone in the world - it was a welcome fantasy, while it lasted. No one could make ripples in your high spirits if they couldn't find you, after all. Not even Aegon and his record of endless taunting could bother either of you here.

Satisfaction burned through him, when he found you in the first place he thought to look. Seeing you here again, it brought a small smile to his lips - smug, though it may be - and he realized that maybe. . .maybe you hadn't grown to be as different as he had feared.

So many memories could be unlocked, just by the twitch of the leaves, and the color of the sky. Emotions, varied and vivid, could weave a cloak of sorrow or joy, despair or hope. Longing, even, could all be unsheathed like a fresh blade anxious for its first bloodshed - if only by the scent of the sea alone, carried on gentle winds.

You were welcome here. The land remembered you, and it was a hard thought to swallow.

"Is it a fool's errand, to guess what you're thinking?"

Aemond's voice was quiet, a pure match to the gentle glory concealing your little hideaway. It startled you, nonetheless. Birdsong and the rustle of petals had been your sole companions long before the sun began its descent. The forgotten book almost slipped out of your hands.

"I didn't mean to startle you," you whirl on flagstone, breath hitching when you're met with Prince Aemond, standing a mere stone's throw away. There was a taste of amusement woven through his tone. "Does forgiveness dwell in that wild heart for your betrothed?"

Laughter, soft and sweet, fell through your lips a moment later. It melted with the calls of passing birdsong, and the tension in the air lessened, if only enough to breathe.

"That depends, doesn't it?" The smile brought with your laughter lingered, as your gaze swept over the prince - properly - for the first time since you traded the ship in Blackwater Bay for a series of rooms in the Targaryen stronghold. "Did you miss me as much as your letters implied?"

Your question was accentuated with a raise of an eyebrow, your calm smile growing into an untamable grin. Every opportunity to tease your stoic prince was always the path worth taking.

He takes a step forward. Hands that had been clasped tightly behind his back had fallen to his sides with the stride. The humor dancing on Aemond's tongue spills through his lips, finally, and you swear he dons the beginning of a smile.

Another step forward. He hums. "Just as I feared. Your time away seems to have dulled the memory of my loyalty - "

Another laugh spills through your lips, this one harmonizing with the birdsong itself. Your head tipped towards the sky, almost void of all color now. Navy blue began to deepen the west, revealing stars scattered above to better see this reunion unfold. They glimmered and twinkled, as if they laughed at the jests Aemond easily gave right back to you.

Your feet took you closer, and now it was he who seemed to glow in the twilight swallowing your sanctuary whole. Silver hair, a beacon, always, to you in the darkness. Bright eye, flashing in what little light remained, always the glaring contrast to the leather covering the other. Always the window to his soul, if not his actions, if not his words.

"- can be done to remedy this injustice, my dearest?"

The last remaining step felt like a world still kept you apart, and you longed to end the distance - had longed to close it almost as soon as your carriage left King's Landing, those long years ago. Letters paled in comparison, always, and yet you and Aemond both knew his loyalty was unwavering and his love was stronger than any shard of Valyrian steel.

Just as he knew yours would never falter, how your adoration could never be undone by a cruel distance, or the slow crawl of time.

"I fear you have grown more handsome since my departure, my prince - I'm afraid I didn't hear a word you just said."

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215 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

sunset leather + rooftop smiles

[ eddie munson x you ]

author’s note: listen. listen. i would die for this man. he’s literally my fave character ever i just. *clenches fist* want him to be HAPPY and i hope the entire town of hawkins gets whats coming to them for buying into satanic panic :) post season 4 vol 1 so minor spoilers!!

word count: 1480

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you."

Soft hair slipped through your fingertips, combing and twirling through dark curls sprawled along your lap. Stray strands tickled your wrists as you played, and you were, it seemed, lulling Eddie Munson to sleep with your touch. Quite effortlessly too, by the lazy drawl of his voice.

It was a song of devotion on repeat, this little ritual of heart and home.

A smile, daring and true graced your lips as fingers halted mid-tug, eyes slipping down, down, down from the horizon above to meet with his own. Those brown eyes that always stole every breath from your lungs, were already staring up at you from the head draped carefully across your lap.

"Try me, Munson."

It wasn't a challenge, no - Eddie knew one when he heard one. This was different, coming from you. This was the tone you chose when curiosity was in its prime, when your heart was open to anything and everything no matter how wild or intense or off the wall. If he had something to share trapped within doubts, you still wanted to hear it. Wanted him to know you wanted to hear it.

(Usually this was about unhinged campaign theories.)

And yet-

He was different. Sounded different.

You knew it was something else, inspiring the haunted look in his eye, and it wasn't because Chrissy Cunningham died in his home this spring, or that the entire town projected their fears onto him on the grandest scale they knew of.

(Although that played its part, of course.)

Regardless, he returned the warmth of your smile with a pale quirk of his own. He looked away, off over the rooftop, off over the town, off into the summer sky, painting the horizon with the most brilliant streaks of oranges and pinks and deep violet clouds. His hands drifted to your wrists, gently detangling fingers from strands. Held them in his own, against his chest.

The cold metal of his rings sends a chill down your spine. You try not to smile brighter at his softness, his kindness, because you know this may not be the time.

"I went into hiding, obviously."

His expression hardens just a little, soft edges becoming a little more sharp, a little more jaded. It was subtle enough to be unnoticeable, but you had known Eddie long enough to learn his tells.

Whatever happened - well. It still bothered him more than he let on.

"If this is another apology about leaving me alone to threaten Jason Carver off my doorstep with a desk lamp -"

A laugh cuts off the joke, drowns out the W.A.S.P. cassette playing softly through the stereo a few feet away. One of those hulking, cordless monstrosities that weighed more than the two of you combined. Somehow, it always came with you, when you made an escape to the empty rooftop of Hawkins Records. It was a music store after all, and you were allowed certain joys of donning the holy title of Shop Manager.

Your smile grows wider then, and Eddie turns a wandering gaze back to you, his fear on hold. That unmistakable light he held, it appeared back in his eyes, then. Laughter faded out with the song drifting through the speakers, and you squeezed the hands entwined with yours.

"That's a no then? Because I swear you've said you'd make it up to me so many -"

Eddie huffs a laugh, pulls himself up so he's sitting in front of you. Your hands fall into his lap, but neither of you move.

"No. I mean I will, obviously - in so many fucking ways, babe, but - I.. .was gonna say something else."

"About that?"

He hesitates. Shrugs. "Yeah, in a way."

"Then try me, Munson."

A breeze flutters through the rooftop, ruffling clothes and hair and everything in-between. The deepening sunset veiled the air with that dreamy shade of pastel pink only found during golden hours. It gifted you both with those infamous rose colored glasses you had always been warned of.

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254 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

monster hunting would suck without you

[ eddie munson x you ]

author's note: canon officially has no home here! aka the one where Eddie is fine 💘 injury, language, nightmares and vol 2 spoilers

word count: 1418

The thing about real monster hunting, was it scared the shit out of you.

Fear, adrenaline, blood, sweat and tears. Expectations paled in comparison when you were thrown in the thick of a fight, thrown into new realms and realities crawling with creatures of the night. Imaginations were a good start, of course, but there was nothing about novels or daydreams or Eddie's beloved campaigns that would have prepared you - any of you - for this.

Even so -

You made it. All of you did. Everyone held their life near and dear, though the journey was documented on flesh and bone, well enough. No one made it out unscathed, but then again - what did you expect?

Bruises bloomed up your arms and along your ribs, painting your skin all the colors of a night blooming garden. They were deep, the various shades of violets and navy that appeared on your skin, and, over the last day or so, the cool colors had given way to deep greens and yellows that Eddie really fucking hated to look at.

Naturally, he couldn't take his eyes off them. Couldn't stop tracing outlines around the scrapes that decorated your cheekbone, your jaw - feather light shapes that tickled while you were awake. Gentle fingertips that glided those same patterns while you were asleep, always at his bedside.

(You curled up next to him in the hospital bed, when the nurse wasn't looking, and the doctor was off duty.)

A day or so had passed now - you weren't entirely sure, to be honest - since your grand return from the Upside Down. Sleep was beginning to leave you now; the fuzziness of a heavy dream began to recede, replaced instead with the feel of chilled metal kissing your hip, and slowly dragging up your spine. You shifted, the distraction an unwelcome thing, even though the dream would pull you right back to that eerie world with the royal blue air.

That coldness again - it threatened to pull you away from the Demobats. Oh, how they circled a whirlwind fury around a body unmoving at your feet, with wrists bound while Eddie -

Eddie -

He was. . .

He was dying, and -

You wake up with a start. Consciousness seemed to hold you close this time. There were arms around you - familiar, warm, covered in tattoos - and ringed hands, black polished fingertips soothed circles into your back, gently cupping your jaw - the one unscathed - to bring it towards the man that was supposed to be dead.

(He's so mindful of your injuries, you almost forget you have them.)

"God." you exhale harshly, when Eddie's eyes meet your own. "Sleeping is gonna fucking suck now, isn't it?"

A half assed smile graces his lips, yet worry had made a home in his expression again. This wasn't the first time he had to wake you up from a nightmare in the making. It certainly wasn't the first time you had dreamt of Eddie dying either.

"Well, you do insist on sleeping in a hospital bed, babe. Fucking no one sleeps on these. Like. Ever."

He coaxes a smile out of you, as always - this time it's hesitant, but genuine - and that fear you felt, back in the Upside Down. . .it dissipates, slowly, with the remnants of the dream. But Eddie -

Eddie's eyes are still on yours, wide and soft and that beautiful deep brown - and you both melt just a little when this moment settles around two sets of shoulders, crammed side by side on a shitty Hawkins General mattress only meant for one.

It's intense, his gaze. You have to break it. You have to look away from him, you have to look out the window overlooking swaying trees and darkened skies and stale yellow headlights as they drive by in the night. You ground yourself by his touch, the feel of his chest under shaking hands. The warmth he radiates that glides through your fingers, that presses through entangled legs and settles quickly in the depths of your chest.

He gives you time to breathe. Always, the patient lover.

"I suppose it could be the bed," you begin, eyes still searching, searching, searching through the dark. Eddie's cradling your neck now, thumb brushing mindlessly across your skin. The other hand slides up your spine. Then down. Rinse and repeat. "And not the scary monster dreams."

"Nah. We kicked their asses, babe. They probably have nightmares of you slicing off their wings while looking like a smokin' hot badass-"

The laugh that spills through your lips is unexpected. Effortless, even now.

Tension breaks with every breath you take, with every laugh that leaves your lips. You double over onto Eddie's chest, whose hands slide carefully around your waist to hold you as tight as he dares.

(You're careful to skirt the bandages under his gown, when you curl your fingers into him.)

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303 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Lucifer in the Arms of Persephone

[ matt murdock x you ]

author’s note: why yes, i am rewatching daredevil and continuing to thirst over matt murdock without hesitation. swearing, a touch of religious trauma if you squint

word count: 1541

Incoming call: Matt Murdock, 9:12 am, Tuesday.

“Hey. Haven’t heard from you in a couple days. Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Delete.

Incoming call: Matt Murdock, 8:43 pm, Wednesday.

“Look- I know that was – is – a lot, but if you could just – I need to know how you’re doing. Please.”

A hesitation. Finger hovering over the little trashcan. Then, his voice spills through the speaker once more:

“At least call Karen or Foggy.”

Laughter, twisted, a huff of air from your lungs. Delete.

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside the worn, wooden door of the place Daredevil came to ground. You chose this time of day with care: that liminal space before nightfall, that golden hour ushering the prime of day back to it’s cage barred with loneliness. Before night fell and the monsters came out to play, before devils ran across rooftops searching for that special someone to quench the thirst of blood spilled in the name of justice.

You wanted him to see you before he went hunting again.

A flare of pain, when knuckles met the door. The act was sharper, harsher than intended, the sting jarring you roughly, carelessly back into the present. Back into your body. The call of Matt’s voice brought you far away from the thoughts you explored the entirety of the train ride over, to this very spot you’ve stood a thousand times before.

Familiarity engulfed you, the warmth of moments similar to this one rushed you without call, without further warning they were arriving. The hallway seemed unseasonably warm, for this Thursday evening in the dead of winter.

Come in, he calls.

You do. The click of the door behind you feels finalized, somehow, like you’re trapped in this moment, this place. Yet, so very unwilling to fight to leave it, to abandon the future where it stands. Something whispers in your ear to let it be, shake the door open and never look back.

You don’t, though. You take a step forward. Another. Round the corner of the make-shift front hall, breath hitching when you see him.

He’s seated on the sofa, leather worn with time. Streams of honey amber sunlight spilled through dusty, dirty windows on it’s descent back into the underworld until the next morning. Pages are scattered before him on the coffee table – case files you imagine – his fingers caressing the raised words. He was hunched over them, even as you came closer. Noticed remnants of his work suit clinging to him like a lifeline, a drastic measure to remember his life on the right side of the law.

Hair disheveled, tie hanging loose and top buttons undone. He paused, when he heard your heart speed up, head turning faintly in your direction. His glasses were off; you could see his eyes.

“Was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

You halted just out of reach.

“I wondered the same thing.

He pulls his hands to his lap, inhales sharply. You watched, soundless. Moving to the chair opposite him crossed your mind – but your feet wouldn’t move, wouldn’t listen to the part of your mind that knew something you couldn’t. The part that didn’t care how much you missed Matthew Murdock, how beautiful he looked gilded in the last crying rays of the sunlight, like one of the holy saints he was supposed to revere.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t anymore, not really. He was too close to them now.

You simply stayed where you were, and waited.

“All right, let’s hear it.”

A beat. You blink. He says it so easily.

“What?”

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369 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

i simply love them all your honor!!!! and i simply love all of YOU!!!! <3

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #shout out to all of us being trash for the white boys of the month #kas says things

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dragonologist-in-the-making · 3 years

Text

Paper Rings

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Summary: On his first ride to Hogwarts, James befriended the girl who was obsessed with shiny things. Over their schooling together, their friendship turned into so much more.

A/N: lmao I suck at summaries. Also I’m back sorry for the random hiatus (and sorry that posting will almost definitely not be consistent after this either). I had this idea months ago, inspired by Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings, and I only just got around to writing it asdfghjkl. Still obsessed with James though rip me I just want someone to love me like this.

Warnings: Mentions of eating (briefly), otherwise just a lot of fluff.

Wordcount: 4k (wow)

...

Little James Potter waved goodbye to his parents as the train took off from the platform, nervous about his first journey to the infamous Hogwarts, but excited to discover all the great things his parents had told him for himself. First though: finding a carriage.

Trying not to show his nerves, he wandered along the corridor, peeping into the carriages to see if there was one he could join. For the most part, he found them all too full, too loud to juggle his nerves, or the students too old and intimidating. The days would come where James would rule the corridors of the castle, but the eleven year old boy on the train was just hoping to make a friend he could share this new adventure with.

As fate would have it, he found just that and so much more. In a carriage to herself sat a young girl, his age, her face turned away from him looking out the window. The only thing he could see was a petite sparkling bow, sitting neatly in her (y/h/c) hair.

Without thinking about it, he knocked gently on the compartment door, sliding it open as she turned to look at him inquisitively. Her (y/e/c) eye’s glittered as her lips pulled into a smile, creating a complete sense of comfort for James to ask. “Do you mind if I sit?” She nodded eagerly, gathering up a few books she had dumped on the opposite seat and dropping them into her lap. “I’m James.” He smiled.

“(y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a short while, listening to the laughs of older students, friends reuniting after a summer apart, and watching the landscape whip by them out the window.

“I like your bow, by the way.” James spoke up, feeling glad he did when an excited smile broke across her face, looking as if he’d told her she’d won the lottery.

“Thank you! I love the way it sparkles.” She said, gently pulling it from her hair and twisting it in the sunlight, showing how rainbows danced in the glitter and were thrown across their compartment. Satisfied, she used it to clip back the hair that was now falling into her face, and their conversation moved on, following each and every thought they were having, becoming fast friends. James didn’t think the journey could get any better until two boys showed up at their door and asked if they could join them, setting everlasting friendships in stone.

As the train pulled up to Hogwarts, any nervousness James had been feeling was gone. Instead, the only thought he had was that he couldn’t be more glad he sat in the compartment of the girl with the sparkling bow.

…

Their first year passed in a blur, and the Marauders spent the majority of it in each other’s company, laughing their days away.

Now, summer had come and gone, and their second year at Hogwarts was in full swing. They walked into their charms class together, laughing about a joke Sirius had made at James’ expense. (y/n) sat next to the curly-haired boy at their desk, as Remus Sirius and Peter sat at the one adjacent to them.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I didn’t make the team last year! No first year has made a house team in like 80 years! I’m telling you though, I’ll make it on this year, and I’ll be the best chaser this school has ever seen.” James protested, huffing as he put his textbook in the middle of the table for him and (y/n) to share. She laughed at him softly, hand patting his shoulder as the other boys got lost in their own conversation.

“I know you will, Jamie. And I’ll be there cheering you on every step of the way.” His cheeks redenned at her words, but luckily their attention was turned away by Professor Flitwick.

“Now students, the charm I’ll be teaching you today is more of a fun one to start off the year than anything you’ll likely need in your everyday lives. As always, I don’t expect you to create chaos by using these charms” – he turned his gaze to a particular group of students at this point who were all busily looking elsewhere – “but simply to enlighten yourselves and to show you what magic can do. So, the charm we’ll be learning today is how to make things glitter.”

James heard an almost inaudible gasp next to him, and he could feel the excitement radiating off (y/n). He chuckled, expecting nothing less; he’d known her for a year now, and if it wasn’t the bow in her hair there was always something shiny on her at any given time.

Flitwick talked about the details of the charm, how it could be applied subtly, only giving a faint sheen, or how it could be made much more obvious. Finally, he gave them the charm and told everyone to repeat after him. “Now, like I said, just because this is a fun charm doesn’t mean it’s an easy one, and I don’t expect you to get it on your first attempt. Just keep repeating the charm and-oh!” He broke off suddenly, just as James’ vision went hazy. Once he’d focused, he saw he was surrounded by a cloud of individual glitter specs floating around them, almost as if they were in their own galaxy. His gaze shifted to its centre, shining most brilliantly of all as her proud and excited smile dazzled him, making him forget entirely they were still in their charms classroom.

“Well done Miss (y/n)!” Flitwick’s voice broke through their bubble, and slowly each star seemed to fade out of existence, until they were back in their regular old classroom, thirty pairs of eyes trained on them. “You certainly felt the spirit of the charm and went above and beyond. 10 points to (y/h). Now, if you could help Mr Potter whilst we all get back to it!”

Chatter burst out the classroom almost immediately, partners working together trying to enchant an object of theirs to take on the glittery effect. Sirius turned to her, rolling his eyes half-heartedly.

“Becoming a teachers pet now are we, (y/l/n)?” She rolled her eyes back, waving her wand to produce a cloud of glitter that settled in Sirius’ hair, contrasting sharply against its darkness.

“It’s sparklesSirius, what did you expect? Now c’mon, this is the one lesson I won’t let you not do the work in. Make some glittery greatness and I’ll bake you all some cookies when I next steal James’ cloak to go to the kitchens.” With those words, the three boys turned their entire focus to the task at hand, while James still seemed slightly awestruck next to her. “You alright, J?”

“That was amazing (y/n/n). I had no idea you could do that.”

“Well I guess you can’t know until you try.” She shrugged, picking up her quill and placing it in front of him. “Charm my quill.”

“Why me? You could just do it yourself.” James asked, confused why she didn’t do it herself since she was clearly more than capable. Once again, she shrugged, looking into his eyes as she uttered the words so nonchalantly that would stick with him for years to come.

“Well, Flitwick said you needed to practise. Plus, it’ll mean more to me if every time I look at my quill I know that you’re the reason it’s shining.”

Within a heartbeat, James had uttered the incantation and a subtle shimmer had settled over the feather, imperceptible until it was moved and caught the light. The smile he saw when he looked over at (y/n) made him vow to himself that as long as he was around, she would never have an ordinary quill again.

True to his word, every time she brought out a new quill, he was quick to snatch it from her and place the simple charm on it. It became an unspoken promise between the two of them, and every time James saw that sparkle from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

. . .

True to her word, (y/n) was there for all of James’ games, cheering him on from the side of the pitch, always the first to reach him when the game was over. High or low, win or lose, she was always there to remind him that he had played amazingly, and that she was proud of him.

After one such game in their fourth year, Gryffindor narrowly losing to Slytherin, she was at his side so quickly that he would have thought she had apparated if he knew this wasn’t possible. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, feeling the slight shaking of his shoulders. “Oh, James.” She quickly ushered him off the pitch before he attracted eyes, assuring him that Sirius and Remus would collect his things from the changing room and bring them back to his dorm. Once they reached his dorm, she sent him to shower, promising that she would be there for him once he was back.

Sure enough, he came out of the shower in fresh clothes and damp hair, and she was still on his bed, patiently waiting for him. She held her hand out to him, a silent invitation, and as soon as he took it she pulled him to her side and once again enveloped him in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Jamie.” She whispered, squeezing him momentarily before drawing back and looking into his glassy eyes.

“Shouldn’t be.” He murmured, avoiding her gaze. “We lost.”

“And yet you scored more goals than anyone else the entire game.” She pointed out, sincerity lacing her voice. “It’s just because the snitch is worth a stupid amount of points, honestly the game has a lot of flaws.” James smiled weakly, they often had these debates about Quidditch and it always ended in some silly way.

“I did hit Malfoy in the head with a Quaffle.” He admitted, and (y/n) could see the weight falling off his shoulders.

“The highlight of all our years.” She laughed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a little box. “I got you something.” She handed it to him, and he pushed it back to her, head shaking, doubt returned.

“No I didn’t do anything to deserve it. Keep it.”

“We already had this argument and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She shoved the box into his hands and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to open it.

Reluctantly, he pulled the lid off the box to reveal a snitch, the snitch he normally kept on his person at all times, now shining with a slight iridescence. James looked up at her, thankful but a little confused at the present.

“I’ve actually been saving it for when you lose a game. Which has been hard because that’s hardly ever.” She broke off to give him a playful glare along with her words, quickly broken by her soft smile. “I know you play with the snitch when you have a lot on your mind, and when you start to doubt yourself. I wanted to remind you that you’re incredible and you should believe that yourself. So, when you see the snitch and you see it sparkle, you’ll think of me, and you’ll remember how great you are.” He was speechless, and in the silent air, she did what the two of them did best, and started to nervously babble. “Well, that’s assuming you think of me when you see sparkles, and quite frankly after all this time I’d be slightly offended if you didn’t-oof” her rambling stopped when James tackled her into a hug, knocking them both back onto the bed.

“Thank you.” Was all he said, but she could hear the emotion behind each word, everything he was trying to communicate. All she did was hold him tighter.

It was then that Sirius and Remus walked into the dorm, carrying all of James’ equipment from the game, causing James and (y/n) to jump away from each other. Blushes arose on both their faces, not that the other would have noticed, each too busy looking at opposite walls of the dorm. Sirius and Remus exchanged a knowing look, but decided to let it slide, knowing there was an inevitability to it anyway.

…

Once again, (y/n) was boarding the Hogwarts express for another year of school. She knew this year would be a stressful one, with their OWL exams coming up, but she also knew that as long as she had her boys by her side, she would be absolutely fine.

Speaking of her friends, she was currently walking along the train trying to find them. She knew that Lily and Remus were prefects now so they’d be at the front of the train, but she was struggling to find anyone else. Eventually, she found James, sitting in a carriage by himself, absentmindedly watching the view. She chuckled to herself at the situation, the reverse of their meeting all those years ago.

She slid the door open, catching his attention and his ever-so-addictive smile. “Got room for an old pal?” She asked, sitting next to him when he patted the seat, his hand enveloping hers as soon as she had, a silent communication. I missed you.

“I was starting to think you’d gotten cool and forgotten about me.” He joked, nudging her playfully.

“Piss off Potter, I was always cooler than you.” She teased back, glad to see that nothing had changed despite their time apart. It never did, they were always James and (y/n), inseparable no matter how hard anyone tried. “Where is everyone?”

“Lils and Moony are doing prefect duties, and Sirius enlisted Peter’s help to try and sneak into their carriage and get the insider information.” He rolled his eyes light-heartedly, forming air quotes around Sirius’ words as (y/n) laughed, eyes closing in amusement. “What’s that on your eyes?” James suddenly asked, stopping her laughter short as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“Oh!” She remembered. “I went to see Lils in the holidays and she was showing me this glitter eyeliner that muggles wear! Why, do you not like it?” She suddenly felt self-conscious, wondering if it really was too much despite Lily’s reassurances. It was a subtle white, but still, it was glitter on her face.

“The opposite!” James was quick to answer, rushing so much to not hurt her feelings that he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying. “I think you look really beautiful (y/n/n), with or without the makeup. Besides, the glitter brings out your eyes.”

At this point, they were both blushing furiously, and James was still holding her hand, neither of them willing to let go. (y/n) couldn’t help but smile to herself, and remembered to thank Lily for the recommendation the second they were in the dorm together that evening.

…

James climbed the last step into the astronomy tower, seeing (y/n) leaning against the railing already, gazing into the night sky, a blanket and an array of snacks out on the floor behind her.

It was a ritual they’d started who knows when, a chance to wind down and escape the chaos of everyday life, to enjoy each other’s company and to feast away on whatever snacks they had managed to stow away for these evenings. Tonight’s selection looked to consist mostly of cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs, with the occasional sugar quill hidden amongst the rest. “Heavy on the sugar tonight, I see.” He broke the silence teasingly, settling himself so that he was sat at (y/n)’s feet, still able to see the clear night sky above them.

“If I don’t consume my own bodyweight in sugar I think I’ll pass out I’m that exhausted.” She commented back, sinking down next to him. Automatically, his arm wound around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on top of her head. There weren’t words to describe the feeling of pure content as she melted into him, completely at ease.

She reached out and grabbed a chocolate frog, unwrapping it and handing the card to James with a sigh upon seeing it was one already in her collection. She bit into the chocolate, her gaze on the night sky as his was unable to break away from her, the way she settled so peacefully against him.

“The stars sparkle too, you know.” She broke the silence, voice quiet but still holding its signature melodic tone. James finally broke away from looking at her, joining her eyeline and looking at the constellations above them. Even though he wasn’t taking astronomy as a NEWT, spending so much time in the tower with (y/n) as she mapped the sky meant he knew precisely what he was looking at, and traced the constellations with his eyes.

“You know, six years of friendship and I don’t think I ever asked you why you like shiny things so much. I always just accepted it as a part of who you are.” A smile graced her face as she unconsciously twiddled her fingers.

“Don’t laugh.” She warned, and he solemnly shook his head. “I think there’s something so entrancing, so beautiful about them. I think it serves as a reminder that even the most seemingly dull thing,” she picked up another chocolate frog box at this point, waving her wand to create a light sparkle over it, “is wonderfully brilliant if you just remember to look at it in the right way. It’s a lesson we should all carry with us, and I try to remember it whenever I can. Everything is beautiful if you give it a chance.” The sparkles on the box faded in the moonlight, as (y/n) finally looked up at James, only to find him already staring back at her.

Body thinking quicker than brain, seeing her (y/e/c) eyes glimmering up at him, James leant down and pressed his lips to hers. She stifled a gasp, quickly moving her lips back against his as her hand wound gently around the back of his neck. He poured all of his admiration into the kiss, everything he had been feeling for her since he didn’t even know when, feeling his heart soar to be here with her in that moment.

Eventually, they broke away for air, and a breathy laugh fell from (y/n)’s lips, blush rising on her cheeks as she turned her face away. James reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers and gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ve been drawn to you since the day I saw you in that train carriage. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, your soul. I didn’t even realise the outside matched until we came back from that summer you spent with Lily. But god, every day since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I like you, (y/n/n). I really like you.”

Around them, a shimmering cloud exploded simultaneous to a wide grin spreading across (y/n)’s face. It was their own galaxy, just like all that time ago in the charms lesson, but she was still in the centre, still giddy with excitement. “I like you too, Jamie.” Her smile turned a little sheepish. “And sorry, I think my emotions got a little out of control.” The star-like sparkles slowly dissipated around them until there was nothing left, and this time it was (y/n) who leaned up to James, connecting their lips one more time.

“You taste like chocolate.”

“I’m sure that must be awful for you, Potter”. Nothing had changed, and yet nothing would be the same either.

…

James was sat on the floor of his dorm, textbooks open in front of him, although this late in the day he was struggling to pay any attention to them. What he was focused on instead was his girlfriend, tucked into the alcove of the windowsill, absentmindedly writing away on a piece of parchment.

Her (y/h/c) hair was in plaits down her back, and in the candlelight the silver threads that James had helped her braid in this morning were casting light across the room that shifted with every little shake of her head or shrug of her shoulders.

“You’re staring again, Jamie.” She chastised, although the humour was clear in her voice. He pushed himself up from the floor with an exaggerated groan, making his way over to her and pulling her gently into his chest, pressing a soft kiss into her hair.

“Can’t help it love, you’re an actual angel.” He didn’t see it but he knew she’d be rolling her eyes as she buried her face in his chest to hide the blush that was forming on her cheeks.

“Stop being so cheesy.”

“As if you don’t love it.” She pressed a kiss into his chest, resting her head against him as she went back to her writing. He tried not to pry, but he couldn’t help but catch notice of his name and his interest piqued. “Who are you writing to?”

“Euphemia.” She replied nonchalantly, not pausing her actions as he took a step away, face scrunched in confusion.

“My mother?” she paused at this, looking up at him with false exasperation.

“Do you know many other Euphemias?” She deadpanned. He shrugged, admitting her fair point, moving back to her side where she immediately snuggled back into his warmth.

“How long have you been writing to my mum?” She paused for a second, contemplating.

“Since the start of term I think. She sent an owl, I responded, we haven’t really stopped talking since. Oh, I’m coming over for Christmas by the way, she invited me. Said it wouldn’t be Christmas without the whole family there” (y/n) looked up at him, flashing a mischievous grin, expecting him to whine childishly like he normally would, complaining that he was supposed to ask her. Instead, looking more solemn than she’d seen him in a long time, he crushed her against him, holding her so tightly before he leant down and connected their lips. The kiss was bruising, but it was packed with adoration, and it left (y/n) slightly breathless. He broke away, leaning his forehead against hers as she tried to catch her breath back. “What was that for?”

“I love you. So much. You’re absolutely perfect, and I swear, I can’t wait until the day I can put a ring on that finger and make it official, make you a Potter for real. I promise, it’s going to be the most sparkling, dazzling gem you’ve ever seen. It’ll shine just as brightly as you, and it’ll always remind you that you’re beautiful, in every way, and just how much I love you.” Her hand had come to rest on his cheek, smiling throughout his little speech, parchment cast aside and forgotten about at this point.

“Don’t be silly, James.” She laughed, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I love shiny things, yes, but I don’t need one to be reminded of how amazing you are, or how much I love you. Hell, you could ask me to marry you with a paper ring and I’d still say yes in a heartbeat. I’m saying yes to you, to a life. You don’t need to win me over with some ridiculously expensive piece of jewellery.” He nodded slightly, pecking her lips before moving back to where he had been sat on the floor.

(y/n) picked her parchment back up, continuing on to the letter she had been writing to Euphemia Potter, unable to help themselves from planning the Christmas festivities despite it being early November.

Deep in concentration, she startled slightly as she noticed movement coming from the corner of her eye. She looked to the side to see her boyfriend once again, although this time he was knelt before her, holding up a piece of parchment that he had hastily fashioned into a ring, coupled with a sheepish smile.

Laughing merrily, she hopped down from the windowsill, pulling him up by his jumper and kissing him passionately as she slid the piece of paper onto her finger, looking forward to the day when they were older, when they could promise this for real, knowing that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them to love each other unconditionally.

When James first stepped on that Hogwarts train, he was hoping to find a friend he could share every moment with for the next seven years. He had found that in her, a best friend, now a lover, for seven years but for so much longer. The girl with the sparkling bow turned out to be his soulmate, and he sent a prayer of thanks to the stars every day.

#harry potter #harry potter fic #james potter #james #potter #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #prongs #prongs x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter x you

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silcoseye · 3 years

Text

Volatile P3: Do You Remember Seeing the Stars for the First Time?

info: "It's been years since Silco, Vander and (Y/N) split up. When Silco searches for his old friend again, asking them to help him teach a child he had recently taken in their 'explosive' craft, their feelings for him are reignited. The question remains if he burns for them just as bright as they do."

warnings: gender-neutral reader, bomb-making, bomb exploding, mentions of child labour, mentions of murder, violence, claustrophobic settings, big fish, swearing (this one is pretty wholesome ngl)

i kept getting distracted trying to write this by "cupcakke - Squidward nose" so at least you all know my heart was in a good place. honestly, as i was writing towards the end i was like 'omg this is so good' so if you all don't think the same I'll cry (/j) IMPORTANT (/srs): I have a fair amount of uni work to do in less than 2 weeks so these updates are gonna slow and I'm going to try and focus on getting my work done before deadlines thank you all, happy reading

7556 words

Jinx came over almost daily to learn the art of bomb-making- and her progress was astonishingly fast. Something you found endearing was that she always doodled on the outsides of her projects. In fact, she doodled on whatever she could get her hands and those neon markers on- clothes, walls, paper, skin. She used them up so quickly, Silco switched to buying her easily accessible crayons, pencils and cheap markers- they were nothing compared to the markers, but she wasn't complaining. She loved it.

Another thing she loved- arguably more than tinkering and creating- was blowing things up with them. Nearby was an abandoned air shaft that you'd visit with her and Silco, testing her creation and smiling brightly at her excitement whenever they'd work, emitting colourful explosions.

As the weeks became months, you noticed her hair beginning to grow rapidly, and, bless Silco, the poor man clearly had no idea what to do with it. Fearing it would get caught on fire, or caught in something that would injure her during your lessons, you offered to put it up for her, as she had no clue what to do with it either. At first, it was styled into a simple long ponytail but she grew bored of it quickly and wasn't much safer. You then offered to braid it for her, which she was hesitant to at first,

"How about two braids then?" You asked, "to make it more fun and interesting," Her eyes lit up at your proposition and she smiled. Carefully instructing her to sit as still as she could, you started by sectioning her hair in two, while she began to eagerly tell you about whatever came to her mind,

"Silco took me to see the water," She said at one point. You froze as you combed her hair. That place. The place where you had almost lost him to Vander. It startled and confused you,

"He did?" She nodded, before mumbling an apology, knowing she wasn't supposed to move her head while you worked, "How was it?"

"I liked it. I wanted to swim but he said no. He said it's dirty water, and we have clean water at home," She explained, "He told me that there's huge fish underwater. I saw some of them too. They're so beautiful, and they don't even know it," You smiled at that, "That's what he told me," she said, as you tied one of the sections into a loose ponytail and let it hang over Jinx's front,

"He did?" She hummed, to indicate a 'yes', tongue poking out as she focused on the detailing of her portrait of Silco,

"He did," She confirmed, "He likes the fish, so I'm drawing him one!" flawless logic,

"Like a pet?"

"Like a friend," You smiled at her innocence, a sigh escaping your lips,

"What's the fishy's name?" you asked, brushing her hair back to begin the first braid,

"The fish can be called (Y/N)!" She grinned, causing you to grimace and then laugh along with her,

"Are you teaching her to draw now?" Silco's low voice cut through your laughter, causing both your heads to turn to Silco, who had just returned. Jinx ran to him quickly, the hair slipping from your loose hold on it, and hugged him tightly. You did find it strange that Sevika was the one who dropped her off today- with a glare and grumble as you thanked her. You eyed the cape she wore over her shoulder and the blue scar on her cheek as you let Jinx inside, "Hello, Jinx," He said affectionately patting her head, before looking at you with a puzzled expression, "What are you doing with her hair?" He asked intrigued, eyes flicking to the brush in your other hand,

"I'm making sure Jinx's hair doesn't get in the way of her work," You said, patting the stool, indicating for Jinx to return. Giving you another apology, she returned, quickly moving the drawing she was doing and flipping it upside down to hide from Silco, and beginning to draw on a new sheet of paper, "I'm giving her braids,"

"Ah," He nodded, leaning on one of the workbenches next to you and watching as you brushed through her hair once again in silence, "Are they easy to do?" With a surprised glance at him, you shook your head,

"No, you just section it and criss-cross," You said, splitting the section of blue hair into three sections and beginning to braid,

"Slow down," He asked suddenly, moving from where he was leaning and moving to stand next to you, watching intrigued as you now slowly braided her hair, "Hmm. It's a pattern," You nodded,

"Right over the middle, left over the middle. You wanna try that side?" You offered, gripping the end of the amount of hair you braided so it wouldn't fall loose and handing him the hairbrush. Tentatively, he took it from you, undoing the hair with such delicacy that one would have thought it strings of porcelain. You smiled, "It's already mostly brushed out so she shouldn't have any tough knots in there," You assured him, and yet still he still brushed through it gently, building up some courage. He finally set down the brush and sectioned the hair as you had previously done,

"Like this?" He asked for clarification, eye-widening as he saw you were already finished and tying up the braid so it wouldn't come undone. Running your hand gently under the braid to make sure it lay smooth against the girls back, you looked in his direction,

"Mhm, that's great, Silco. Now you just have to braid it," you reminded him, "Let me show you," you offered, moving closer to him and gently reaching to take his hands in yours, moving them as you had instructed him, "Right over the middle, left over the middle," You said softly, letting go of his hands once you felt him figure out the pattern, "Make sure it's tight so it doesn't come undone so easily," You added quickly, watching his braid. It was so sweet, so caring. How focused he appeared on making the braid look good, and how his long, slender fingers wove the hair together. It took him significantly longer than you, but you could tell he was being as careful as possible.

Once he reached the bottom of her hair, you handed him a hair tie and watched as he delicately finished his work, standing back and sighing as he placed a hand to his aching back, comparing the two braids,

"You did so well, Silco," You smiled at him before he could say something self-deprecating, turning to see Jinx smiling brightly and showing him she finished fish drawing- one of its eyes was a red 'x' while the other was just a blue dot- you thought her Silco Fish was adorable. Smiling at her, you spoke, "There's a mirror just outside if you want to look at your hair, and then we can start our lesson" You and Silco turned your heads to watch her race out of the room,

"Thank you for teaching me," the words almost knocked you off your feet and your brows raised in clear shock. You couldn't hide the slight blush that dusted your cheeks and caused them to warm as Silco looked at you, "I had no idea you knew how to do things with hair like that. To tell the truth, it was getting unmanageable," He sighed. You could tell he was tired through the bags under his eyes and a slight slouch in his position. Testing the waters, you reached a hand up to pat his shoulder,

"No problem," you said, surprised again that he didn't brush you off, "Where were you this morning? Savika dropped Jinx off to-"

"She arrived on time?" He asked sternly now. With a small sigh, you nodded,

"On the dot," You confirmed, hoping it would keep the woman out of trouble. Jinx returned, declaring she loved the braids and hugged Silco first and then, surprisingly you. You smiled, patting her head as Silco had done,

"Okay, we can start now!" She said eagerly as she pulled away and hopped back on the chair. With her hair out of the way, you cleared the papers and made sure to set her Silco, Jinx and (Y/N) fish portrait to the side so she could continue at the end, and your lesson began.

For the next few days, Silco would come in with Jinx- even on the days where she had an allocated break from learning- staying while you braided her hair. This continued until eventually, he got so good at doing it himself that she would come with the twin braids already hanging down her back, excited to learn as usual.

The longer she was with him, the more you saw Silco's normally icy exterior melt with her childish innocence. It was so abundantly clear to anyone that he cared deeply for the girl. You had been to his office a few times when he called for you to check on her progress. Just scanning his desk, you could tell she had been there; the ashtray he used with his cigars was painted with neon blue and pink details, and considering he hadn't just opted to get a new one, he must have been proud of her artwork. You always had positive things to say- not out of fear that he'd replace you if she wasn't satisfied- but because you recognised her brilliance and creativity.

The only thing still dragging you down was your curiosity to know her origins. You were torn between going out and searching for the answer on your own and waiting patiently for Silco to tell you himself when he was ready. In the end, you decided to remain as patient as you could be. Silco would tell you eventually- you hung on to this belief. He trusted you... Right?

Why else would he turn to you right after he found Jinx? Why else did he ask you to help him teach her, and not someone else with more professional practice and experience in this line of work? Why else did he value your opinion of her when he clearly didn't give a shit about the others?

You've seen the glares Sevika gave to the child plenty of times when she thought no one was looking, and you were still unaware as to why she disliked the poor girl so much. Often, Silco would begrudgingly ask her to watch her while he attended to his cryptic 'business' to attend to, and watching as she begrudgingly accepted.

Jinx quickly grew to adore the time she spent with you, as it meant she could focus on her creativity- in bomb-making and art. Your conversations were always light chatter, and sometimes she'd tell you about her life before Silco. Only small details- like a boy named Ekko learned the basics of welding, and other metalwork alongside her, and they both learned from Benzo, a merchant that lived nearby. You recognised him as being Vander's friend. Jinx took to making bombs because "they were more fun", in her words, and you laughed along with her. However, you still couldn't shake she wasn't okay. Sometimes when you asked for more information on her past, she got very quiet and almost refused to speak with you anymore until you changed the topic. You never pressed her for more after that. One day, she mentioned it was her birthday, just out of the blue. Her older sister had taught her the date and month, and your eyes widened. What followed was a day off, and an incredibly messy attempt to bake a cake.

Silco returned to your home to find the girl's face and clothes dusted in flour, hands sticky with dough and icing and grinning up at him, bouncing on her feet as she eagerly declared you made a cake. His gaze turned to you, situated in the kitchen, sympathetically smiling. Instructed her to wash her hands, he joined you in the kitchen, remaining quiet as he watched you place the top half of the cake onto a layer of cream. Washing your own hands once you were done, you gave Jinx free reign to decorate it with the colourful icing you made in separate bowls. Once you finished, you dried them and joined Silco across the counter from Jinx, observing her with an amused smile. You leaned your elbows on the counter and reached for a discarded spoon you used to mix the icing with,

"She said it was her birthday today," You explained to him, licking some of the icing off your finger. You blushed to see his eyes lingering on your face as you did this. You turned to watch the young girl instead, slathering the cake with the blue icing, "I thought she deserves a cake at least... Had I known earlier I would have gotten her a gift," you looked back at him apologetically, once you felt the burning in your cheeks subside, and he simply smiled and shook his head,

"It's alright, (Y/N). Thank you for at least giving her a fun day off," You nodded, and remained quiet for a moment, watching as she worked away,

"So what business did you need to attend today?" you tried, expecting him to remain also quiet and not tell you,

"I was buying Jinx a birthday present," You blinked for a moment, turning to see him with a sly smirk on his lips. Jinx let out a small gasp at his words, and clumsily set the flat spatula she was using to decorate the cake with back into the pink icing bowl, moving from the small stepstool you got for her and running to the side of the counter you two were on, watching him eagerly.

He crouched beside you, and it only then did you notice he was carrying a small wrapped parcel behind his back. He crouched before her and offered it to her. Taking it from him with a small 'thank you', she eagerly unwrapped the paper and gasped in surprise at the contents. You smiled, seeing the bright neon markers she had taken from you all those months ago. A cacophony of eager thank you's burst from her, and she ran quickly into Silco's arms, hugging him tightly, shoulder shaking slightly as she cried from happiness.

The markers had been ridiculously difficult to find apparently for both you and Silco. A while ago, you thought to surprise her and buy her the markers she had fallen in love with all those months ago but came up empty, returning home exhausted and neon markerless. And considering it took him a whole day just to find them and bring them to her, you guessed he may have had to go to Piltover or... Somewhere else. Perhaps he has a neon marker dealer you didn't know but needed to seek out. You had to ask him.

Jinx pulled away with the brightest smile you've ever seen on her lips. She was clearly so overwhelmed and happy it just warmed your heart to see. Like you, she'd likely grown up with very little around her. And you realised this may be the first cake she'd ever had, considering her excitement when you showed her the size of the cake pan. Once she calmed down (and you assured her they were not edible and couldn't go on the cake) she resumed her decorating, eager to finish so she could draw again. You settled next to Silco, looking over the markers and trying to see their brand, only for him to cover it with his pale hand. You sent him a playful glare, but it faded quickly and you only smiled. His gaze went to you as he felt your eyes on him,

"What?" His asked expectantly, looking down at you amused,

"Nothing... I was just trying to see what brand those markers were," You said innocently. You regretted not paying attention to what it was when you first got them and gave them away, not knowing she would take to them like that,

"I'm not revealing my secrets," He said plainly,

"Silco? Keeping secrets? Unheard of," You mocked surprise, making him exhale some air out of his nose in a silent laugh. Studying him, you turned your attention back to Jinx, "Seriously where did you get them, they're really good markers," You hissed,

"When's your birthday?"

"Haha," You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. With a small sigh, you went quiet, watching as she finished up the cake,

"Thank you for baking with her," He said sincerely, and when you met his gaze, his eyes held emotion in them. You gave him a nod,

"She deserves it, doesn't she?" You told him, and with a nod, he agreed with you.

Jinx ate about a quarter of the cake, ran around your house, completed 6 drawings, before passing out across Silco's lap on the couch. He had undone one of the braids and delicately ran his fingers through her wavy hair, separating the strands. You watched the domestic scene before you, sipping some tea and watching.

He casually smoked a cigar, an ashtray placed on the side of your couch to tap off the excess ash. He was focused so hard on Jinx's hair he barely seemed to register your staring. His head was tilted slightly to the side, giving you a clear view of his corrupted eye and the scars indenting his cheek and forehead. Everything about him was sharp in such a handsome way, and yet this time his body no longer held its usual tension. The longer you spent time with him, you slowly started to notice how he'd emerge from his office with his shoulder's squared, but they'd slump and relax slightly whenever Jinx tackled his legs into a hug and you delivered her back to him. Although it was hard to tell now, due to the position he was sitting in, he was relaxed too. One of his arms leaned against the back of the couch, the hand that held the cigar carefully poised over the ashtray to not land on your couch, smoke slowly dissipating into the air and filling it with the scent of tobacco. His other was brushing out Jinx's hair,

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice was soft but carried deliciously through the air between you. You set the steaming mug of tea down from where it was resting against your lips, and looking at the brown liquid to avoid looking at him at the realisation he knew you were observing him,

"It's nice to see you like this. You look comfortable and relaxed," You explained, trying to match your tone and volume to his, finally looking up to meet his curious gaze. It was his turn to openly stare, however, you lacked his unapologetic confidence and looked away, brushing a hand through your hair, "So-"

"It's nice to see me?" He repeated with a small smirk, and you rolled your eyes,

"I haven't seen you in a long time. Not since..." You trailed off and watched his smile fade away, his gaze turning to look to the floor. Rubbing his forehead carefully with the hand holding the cigar, he brought it back to his lips and inhaled deeply, and let the smoke slowly rise out of his thin lips. You watched him place it back into the ashtray,

"Since Vander tried to kill me," He finished for you, eye squinting with an icy glare above your head,

"You... Haven't told me what happened after that," You reminded him, looking from the dark brown liquid in your cup, back to him. He focused on you,

"You were there. You pulled me from the waters and took me to shore," He reminded you,

"Yes, but what happened after that?" You finally said, sitting up in curiosity. It took him a while to reply, figuring out how to form the words in his head, figuring out how best to tell you. Or perhaps he was thinking of another clever way to distract you,

"Once we split, I gathered those who opposed Vander. Safe to say they were surprised to see me alive. He apparently told them I was dead," There was venom in his words, and you only nodded along, ignoring the tightness in your chest as the memories of heartbreak come flooding back. "I gathered those who still wanted to send the topsiders a message with violence and would continue to do so. His lie did me a favour... It allowed me to disappear," He picked the cigar back up, "I found Singed, the scientist, and became a sponsor of his... Projects," He explained, "When you found me, my eye was beyond repair-" Letting go of Jinx's hair, you watched as his delicate fingers traced along one of the marks on his face, "-I could barely see you helping me out of the toxic waters-" his hand travelled down the scar, down his face as he spoke, "-When I found Singed, by some luck he managed to salvage it-" The scar stopped at his lip, and he took his hand from his face to place it back into Jinx's hair "-only the toxins had eaten away at most of the flesh," With a slight shake of his head, he continued, "he managed to salvage my vision, what was left of it that is. Regardless, I was then forever in debt to him. Whatever he needed, I would supply it," He uttered, eyes focusing on you, "And then he showed me... A private project of his... You know it as Shimmer," you nodded in agreement, "He cultivated it and I lent him a helping hand," he finished,

"Right," You said, thinking for a moment, "He fixed your eye," He leaned his head down in a nod, "And in turn, you helped him create the drug that took over Zaun," He nodded again, "Is that all you did?" He laughed at that,

"It kept me busy," He raised a brow, "Is that all you wanted to know, (Y/N)?" He asked,

Of course not. You wanted to ask so much more. About Jinx, her origins, more questions about him. Specifically his feelings for you. If they were strictly platonic or did he yearn for your affection like you his. Did he find you beautiful too? Did he fantasize about falling asleep entangled together too? If his feelings for you were still in his cold hear somewhere,

"Nothing comes to mind, Silco," You settled, with a polite smile that was soon hidden behind your teacup again as you took another sip. Looking back at him, you noticed him staring at you, clearly unconvinced by your answer. He didn't push you for more, thankfully. The truth was you weren't ready for such forward confessions, and you were so unsure and afraid of his reaction. Jinx being in his life brought the best out of him, you thought. He had desperately tried to push all human care and love out of his heart to replace it with bitterness, only for Jinx to crash into his life and remind him what it was to feel again. Looking down at the girl you smiled softly, "I've never seen her as happy as she was today" you told him, "It's sweet that you got her those markers. If I knew it was her birthday I would have got her something too," you repeated with a sad sigh,

"I'm sure these markers will keep her busy for the foreseeable future," His hand affectionately went back to Jinx's hair, now undoing the other braid and gently undoing the hair, "Besides, I don't think you'd be able to find them, even if you searched the entirety of Zaun," He teased. You smiled at him, narrowing your eyes,

"Does that mean you got them from Piltover?" Mimicking your earlier movements, he only raised his brows and bought the cigar to his lips inhaling. You shook your head, "One day I'll find them and hoard them here so you won't find them,"

"You'll never find my supplier," he murmured, leaning his head back against the back of the couch as he exhaled the smoke into the air,

"An art supplier from Piltover," You put two and two together, "Thanks Silco," you said playfully,

"Good luck finding the right one," He chuckled, his head leaning forward again to look at you, "Stars know the amount of pretentious 'artists' that city produces," there was a sting to his words, and you only nodded along,

"Course it does," You agreed with a sigh, "Such freedom must be wonderful," You said softly, "I wish I could have painted or drawn when I was a child... Instead of working the mines," You looked at Jinx, "It's... Why I was so nervous about teaching her how to make bombs. The fact that she's still so young. I constantly have to remind myself that she's only a child, and I feel horrible for corrupting her mind with such violence..." You said sadly, "I lived through it. I know how bad it gets. I didn't want her childhood to be like this too," you admitted. Looking back to him, meeting his intense gaze, "But you... Silco, you clearly care for her so much. You would never let anything bad happen to her intentionally and I know that," You assured him, "I just.." you sighed, words escaping you.

"I understand your fears, (Y/N)," He said smoothly, "I have them too... I had my reservations on taking in a child," His voice had a twinge of sadness to it, "But she was alone. She had lost everything- everyone in her life. I realised I was all she had left. I realised without me... She would die," He admitted, "It's not an ideal life for her. I know this. So I try my best to give her the best I can find. All so she doesn't see the shit we went through," His eyes locked with yours, "You do too... And I appreciate your efforts too, (Y/N)," he said, the gratitude clear in his voice. A comfortable silence settled as you ate a biscuit and drank some tea, and he finished with her hair. His cigar stopped smoking, but the tobacco still hung in the air thickly, engulfing you, "Thank you for teaching her," He broke the silence eventually, "I'll make sure to repay you in the future,"

"You don't have to do anything for me- you gave me this apartment," You quickly told him, watching as he smiled and shook his head, "That's more than enough,"

"This is a necessity. I'll get you something else,"

"Like what?" you asked

"Anything," He let out a breath, "Anything you would want,"

After finishing your tea, he picked Jinx up from his lap, gently cradling her close to him and moving to the door. You took his coat from the rack, draping it over his shoulders and relishing in the overwhelming scent of smoke and vanilla that surrounded him like an invisible cloud,

"Thank you," He exhaled,

"I thought you were incapable of using those words," You teased. You were so close to him that you felt the air exhale from his nose as he laughed lightly,

"I live and I learn..." He said softly. He lingered near you for a moment, and you took this as a cue to open the front door for him. Before you got to it, he interrupted you, "I'll take you somewhere nice tonight" He offered,

"Somewhere nice?" You asked, looking at him, to see him nod and approach, "It better not be a rooftop again. I'm not dragging you off there like last time," You narrowed your eyes, a hand resting on the door handle. He smiled at you,

"It'll be nicer than a rooftop. I promise,"

"You promise?"

"Be ready in an hour and we'll go," He said,

"Why this sudden proposition?" You asked curiously, "What changed?"

"I'm repaying your kind work," He said, and as he saw you beginning to protest he raised a brow, "Don't start," He commanded, and even at a whisper, you could tell he was stern, "Please. I just want you to join me,"

"Alright, Silco. I will," You opened the door for him and watched as he momentarily left you, taking the girl back to their home.

"When I said I didn't want to go to a rooftop I didn't expect the exact opposite," You said, moving after him cautiously into a run-down building. Bits of it had been singed and covered in black soot, and it was long abandoned, the signs being obvious in the abundance of dust and emptiness. The thick smell of smoke and gunpowder still hung in the air- you'd need to wash these clothes when you got home. You eyed an elevator that was in an equally bad shape that Silco was slowly approaching, the floor numbers flashing weakly in the dim room.

Silco smiled softly once you got to it. He had walked with his usual confident swagger, hands behind his back and footsteps confident, heavy and slow. You moved next to him, catching up after taking in your deteriorating surroundings, and got to the broken doors of the elevator shaft. He grabbed it and grunted as he pulled it back, the door promptly falling back into its sliding hinges with a creek. He turned back to you, indicating with his hand for you to enter first. Following his instructions, you frowned deeply as you looked at the dusty, run-down elevator,

"Is this even safe?" you asked, worry laced into your words, looking over the buttons and numbers that emitted a low buzz. He entered quietly as always and brushed past you, pressing the lowest floor possible, causing the elevator to jerk to life and begin its slow descent,

"So far," He commented, leaning against the brass metal casually,

"Silco, I swear to all the stars in the sky, if this elevator breaks while we're in it... Are you telling me there are no stairs we could have used instead?" the fear was clear in your tone, not at all comforted by his casualness,

"It hasn't broken and won't break," he said smoothly, and with only his word to trust, you sighed, standing by him and watching as light illuminated outside of the open door,

"How did it all break?" You asked, "Time?" he shook his head,

"Time..." He confirmed, "And external forces..." He added mysteriously with a sigh, turning his head to observe you, "You're still terrified of small spaces?" He asked out,

"Specifically ones that might kill me because they're not safe," You said, making him chuckle lowly,

"You wouldn't like this place when it was open," He said, "There are no stairs. Its a crucial design flaw. That's why it closed years ago. It almost burned down when one of the chefs caught their apron on fire and almost burned down the whole building. Maximum weight limit allowed 5 people in here at a time- old technology- and a few patrons sustained serious burns" he explained

"Was this a restaurant?" You blushed at the implications. Was he intentionally bringing you to a place usually associated with romance? Or was he-

You gasped again as the elevator shook and jolted again, creaks emanating from the heavy-duty wires above you. You could feel your heart drop in fear, and instinctively, you reached for his arm and gripped it, shutting your eyes tightly.

A moment passed and all movement stopped.

"We're here," He declared, but his voice was soft and soothing, intending to calm you. Straightening shakily and releasing the grip on his arm, you blushed as you watched this elevator door open- working correctly but covered in black soot- and blinked at the sight before you.

A laboratory was destroyed here. Shelves of empty beakers and surviving chemicals were scattered around, glass, ingredients and mysterious puddles littered below them. A fish tank, or terrarium of some sorts, had fallen and shattered, adding to the dusty, glassy, chemically mess on the floor, dirt spilling out of it. All of this was left to rot, abandoned. Everything was either covered in soot, burned to a crisp, or dusty. But what drew your attention the most was the bright azure window, as tall as the room itself, and the vast shapes moving behind the extensive crack splitting the window apart, drops of the water falling and puddling on the floor from the crevices.

Silco appeared next to you, standing and looking over the area with hints of reminiscence in his eye,

"This was Singed's laboratory," He clarified for you, gaze shifting to watch your bewildered face, transfixed by the humungous fish slowly swimming in front of the glass, obscured and disfigured by the crack. Following your gaze, he scanned them, eyeing the break in the glass, "Since the explosion, I've only been here with Jinx," he explained. An explosion- perhaps that was the 'external force' he mentioned before. But that didn't explain the soot... Maybe it caused an explosion to occur here. There must have been a lot of flammable things stored here,

"So that's why she draws the fish," you marvelled. This was the water see was talking about,

"I'm surprised it hasn't caved in yet..." He nodded. "However the structure is severely unstable," He pointed out the obvious, gesturing to the large crack. The force of a bomb could do something like this... Was this why you were teaching her how to safely make bombs? Did she cause this? You thought about reprimanding him for being so reckless to bring a child here, or sharing your observations, but the enchanting atmosphere kept the words in your mouth,

"What was this? Before it... was a lab," You asked, finally tearing your eyes away as the gigantic fish disappeared to the left, and looking at Silco, who began to slowly wander across the room, closer to the glass. You followed,

"It used to be an underground dining area, only available to the rich ones who could afford it," he said, "This used to be a Topsiders exclusive restaurant... Until we claimed it," He said, tilting his head slightly and running his hands over a blackened workbench, the soot staining his two fingers. He rubbed them with his thumb, before looking over his shoulder to watch you approach his side,

"Ahh... You got jealous and wanted free entry?" You summed up playfully,

"Perhaps that too," He smiled, his gaze travelling to the window again. Standing close to him, you marvelled at the fish together. It hadn't been just the two of you since that night he got into your old apartment and asked you to help him. This felt nice,

"Silco?" You looked at him and listened to the small hum he gave you. You allowed yourself to admire his sharp, angular features, eyes scanning his face as if to memorise it, subconsciously expecting to lose him again. As he turned to look at you, now being able to see his whole face illuminated by the glow of the waters before you, you took a small steadying breath, "I don't know if I told you... But it's really nice to see you after all these years," You said, "I'd be lying if I didn't say I missed you. I am... Glad you're back in my life," you said honestly, and watched as his features softened and he relaxed, a small smile appearing on his lips again,

"As am I," He said softly, and as you gazed at him, the impulse to suddenly touch your lips to his grew stronger and stronger. You were so close to him, shoulders practically touching. You wanted to reach out and touch him. Your body screamed and begged for you to do so. Perhaps you'd bump into the desk behind him. Perhaps he wouldn't care about the soot or dust staining his clothes as you distracted him with your mouth on his. Perhaps you'd forget about the threat of drowning looming above before you and calm your racing heart.

But damn your insecurities cursed patience, and childish curiosity making you turn your head back to the window, so he was completely eliminated from your vision. You calmed as a silence appeared between you two, filled only by the steady echoes of dripping, and deep underwater noises. He finally spoke after some time,

"(Y/N)," he drew your attention, "I need your help. I need more help than I would normally like to... request from another person," He admitted reluctantly with a sigh, a hand running through his hair, causing a few grey-black strands to fall to his forehead, "With Jinx," He finished, looking back to you, "I can only provide her with so much... She has a home, she has safety, she has basic necessities, and her drawings and materials because of me... But truth be told, without your help, I don't think she'd be as comfortable or happy as she is," He admitted, "Being around you makes her happy- you should hear the way she talks about you," You blushed at that, smiling pleasantly, "I'm serious, (Y/N). She wakes me up at ungodly hours demanding that she needs to arrive at her lessons on time, and the days she doesn't, she's asking about see you anyway, and what you do when she's not there," you laughed at that, "You always had that natural charm with children," he complimented softly, his gaze caring and... full of an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint. Pride? Adoration?

"Cause you always scared them off with your bluntness," You teased, giving up on trying to read into him. Your comment made him smile a little wider, "Thank you for the flattery Silco, but you shouldn't give yourself such little credit. It's clear she loves you and considers you to be a father figure for her," he looked away now, considering your words. You could almost watch as the gears turned in his head. Shuffling a little on your feet to move that much closer to him, you took in a small breath, "I'd be more than happy to take her in for a little bit if it made things a bit easier on you," You offered, making him turn to look at you, shock clear in the way his brow and eyelid were raised, "Not completely take her away from you, of course... But I do have that spare bedroom. Some nights, if you can't make it, or have... things to do with whatever shady business you have going on now, I don't mind letting her stay over. You'd pick her up in the morning, as usual" You said. He remained quiet, considering your offer, "Silco," You said, making him look at you, "I really don't mind helping you- and you don't need to do anything for me in return. I'm just happy to be with you a-and her," you said quickly, to try and save yourself from slipping up too quickly and scaring him off, "You mean a lot to me..." You finished bravely, watching his face. You were thankful for the intense monochromatic blue that shielded the intensity of your blush from his intense gaze, full of an emotion you just couldn't discern. Then he did something you hadn't expected.

Silco had only hugged you a few times in your life, despite knowing each other for so long. You could probably count the hugs on one hand. The first time was when he was convinced you had been killed by enforcers on your way back to your shared home many moons ago when the tensions were high and you were only a few minutes late to a meeting. The second was after he had lost his eye. When you got him home and cleaned and bandaged what you could, used to the grotesque task by now, he asked you to hug him until he fell asleep against you on your bed, not letting you go until the early hours of the following morning. He pulled you close now and hugged you. You felt like floating. Pressing your head against his soft, yet firm, chest you were lulled by his rhythmic heartbeat and the deepwater sounds around you. You felt the gentle weight of his head against your shoulder and the indent of his chin. The warmth his body gave off surrounded you, and the scent of tobacco and cologne overwhelmed your senses. This felt right... It was perfect...

The hug was long- it was almost as if you were both making up for all the physical touch you were both starved of for years, neither wanting to let go. Silco hated touching anyone at all, and just about tolerated you and Vander when he was alive; you were indifferent to it. Silco was a champion of words, master manipulator. He spoke and fell silent when he needed to, and miraculously always had the correct timings. He told you once that hugging made him claustrophobic. You were happy he had gotten over his fears for this moment alone.

This alone planted a small seed in your mind- the seed that reassured you of his reciprocated feelings. You wouldn't believe in them until you heard it from him clearly- no word games, no beating about the bush, no fancy, dramatic antics or metaphors. Straight to the point, a clear yes or no. A clear 'I love you' or 'I don't feel the same way'. You understood this was a lot to ask of a person like Silco, and therefore you had to be patient. Moments like this gave you hope.

Shamelessly now, you watched him in the elevator as it went back up to the surface, slithers of light filtering over his face as you passed by the various floors. He caught your eyes with a small smirk, causing your own mouth to bloom into a smile,

"What?" you asked, "Are you up to something?"

"I just missed spending time with you... That's all," He clarified genuinely, "This made me feel young again, and lord knows I need it," He ran a hand through his greying hair again and placed his hands against his sides, stretching out his lower back,

"You trying to relive your youth, old man?" You teased, making him laugh,

"Ahh, something of the sort," He admitted, "I was reminded of the thrills of sneaking out at night together and seeing how close we could get to the Topsider's barriers without getting caught," You smiled fondly at the memories,

"Yeah wow... That feels like a lifetime ago now, yeah..." You agreed, leaning against the metal back of the elevator next to Silco, eyes glued to him,

"Do you remember seeing the stars for the first time?" he asked softly, and you nodded dreamily, smile already widening,

"Yes... Sometimes, I dream of them, you know," You admitted, "The sky stretching out endlessly, covered in them. I never knew there were so many out there... Sometimes my skin is made from the stars- blue and sparkling- and I'm dancing across the air. Sometimes, I'm simply walking and staring at them endlessly... They're some of the best dreams I've ever had," You said, your smile now beginning to hurt your cheeks. Turning to see his gaze at you with admiration made you blush, "It was the best gift I've ever received. Thanks," you said, remembering the night he woke you and brought you up to Topside for the first time. He nodded, seemingly remembering that same memory, with a similar fondness to you. You noticed him fade away into the shadows as you arrived at the top floor, and realised something. The fucker managed to distract you long enough to forget you were moving in a broken-down elevator. Following him out and watching him slide the door back out of place, you walked close to him as he led you to a side door, footsteps synchronising, together. You made no comment to thank him, but just appreciated he was going out of his way to comfort you. You'd already probably annoyed him with so much 'thank you's' today that he'd slink back into his criminal sewers like a rat,

"Trust is something rare to find in people," He said, his blackened eye focusing on you, the orange-red glow around his pupil holding your attention, "The world is different now. Dog eats dog, brother kills brother," he sighed heavily, "I'm glad that I can trust you still, (Y/N). Even after all these years," He said. You were close again for a moment, and your breath hitched when you realised. You expected him to kiss you, with the way his head leaned closer. Instead, he pushed the door open for you, and your eyes widened at the brightness of the night sky, clear, dark, and a beautiful deep blue speckled with drops of glittering white.

The stars twinkled back at you beautifully, hypnotising you as you felt your heart clench inside your chest with adoration and love, mesmerised by their radiance. A tear slid down your cheek, the stars reflecting in the salty dacrocyte, a culmination of overwhelming happiness.

He did still care for you. So much more than you had ever expected.

#silco my beloved #arcane spoilers #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #arcane #volatilearcane

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aminiatureworld · 4 years

Text

Shadowed Rationale

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,597

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Some things aren’t terribly rational. And some responses are even less so. But what other option is there? Revealing yourself can be a terribly embarrassing thing, isn’t it better to hide it?

In which the reader is afraid of the dark.

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to write based off my own prompt every two weeks. Mostly because I realized I can no longer think of ideas, and also cause I’m a bit writer’s blocked and I’d feel bad writing requests right now. This premise is pretty cheesy, but sometimes simple starting points are the best to build upon! Besides it was a really a chance to work on my atmosphere, sometimes putting an image in your mind on paper is quite difficult, especially when it comes with an unsettling sort of mood.

All the characters I chose are characters I saw at least some point in the 1.4 teaser stream (Kaeya, Xiao, and Zhongli are tomorrow). I’m so excited! Although I have to apologize to Venti, sorry I have no idea how to write you so I chose not to.

I realize I idealize some of these characters (ie: Childe) quite a bit. I hope that they still keep their individuality, that they still stay in character. That being said I’m quite happy with how this turned out to be, so I hope you like it.

Albedo

It’s not that you didn’t trust Albedo. Indeed Albedo sometimes felt like the only person in the world you could trust.

It was simply that, though you two had been in a relationship for the past four months or so, you still wanted to impress him in some way. Or at least not seem like a total idiot. And to you the most idiotic thing you could think of was your fear of the dark.

It wasn’t that it was a totally irrational fear, of course humans were afraid of the dark, how else could they have survived this long? It was more that the fear felt irrational now. And besides, you had a vision. Your partner had a vision. You two were more than equipped for anything that might be lurking in the shadows. Besides it’s not as if your fear had a tangible image in your mind. It was more like a cloud, a miasma, which filled you with anxiety.

You knew you should tell him, knew he’d be nothing less than a perfect gentleman about the matter. But your pride was too great, or perhaps it was your embarrassment. Either you said nothing. And here you were now, in Wolvendom, in the middle of the night, desperately trying not to jump at every shadow you passed.

Albedo wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to your nervous disposition; once he’d found something to experiment with he developed the slightly unhelpful habit of blocking the rest of the world out completely. Not that that was terrible for you in current circumstances. Maybe you’d make it out of here with your dignity intact.

That optimism however was drowned out by the oppressive anxiety you felt. Though Albedo had assured you that his connections had managed to get Razor’s promise that no wolves would bother the two of you it was still difficult to contain the shiver up your spine every time you heard their distant howling. The landscape didn’t help, comprised of sharp drops and trees which seemed as if they’d never been alive in the first place. The long cavern in which you two walked seemed too vulnerable, too low to the ground with no way to protect yourself either from behind or above. The valleys were crawling with hilichurls, and you’d occasionally see the silhouette of a wolf or two. You could make out the old Monstadt as well, if you gazed westward, and the solitary, crumbling turret cut an eerie figure against the inky sky.

As Albedo studied the lamp grass that was the reason for your expedition – as he’d developed a curiosity in regards to their luminescence, how it was created and how it might be extracted and experimented upon – you looked around you. Though there was nothing in sight to be afraid of you still found yourself going to draw your weapon, though you were loath to actually do so, not wanting to look silly. After all, only a fool would attack the dark.

Luck, however, wasn’t on your side. You seemed to be spotting a figure, appearing at the other side of the valley in which you’d found yourselves in, walking straight towards you. You blinked rapidly, brain desperately trying to choose between whether or not it was a figment of your imagination. Surely it must be? What sort of cloaked figure would be wandering around in the dark? And yet the other half of your mind whispered that it must be something, something or someone, and that something or someone was fast approaching you. Was it? Or were you just imagining it? You truly couldn’t decide. Another howl echoed on the wind. Your senses were becoming too overwhelmed, too confused. Oh why were you there? Why oh why oh why?

You backed up slightly, brain now determined to see the shadow on the horizon as a human. Your hand clutched your weapon and you tried to remember if there was something, anything behind you. A ridge perhaps, so you might not have to worry about what was behind you, might be able in some ways to ground yourself.

Unfortunately luck wasn’t on your side, and instead of finding some point of security you found yourself tripping over your partner.

“Shit.” Albedo let out a curse as you fell backwards, hitting the ground with a loud thud. “My love are you alright?”

You said nothing, instead glancing back towards the other end of the valley. The figure seemed much skinnier from the ground, and for a moment you felt your brain cloud over in confusion. Then, as if all of a sudden your mind had put the pieces together, you felt a rush of relief, swiftly followed by embarrassment. A trunk. It was a tree trunk. Covering your face with your hands you groaned.

“Beloved?” Albedo asked once again. You looked up at him, a feeling of sheepishness and fondness washing over you as you saw the worried expression on his face.

“It’s nothing Albedo, I’m perfectly fine. It’s just… ah,” you let out a sigh, steeling yourself for the interaction you’d specifically hoped wouldn’t happen, “I’m, I’m afraid of the dark. My eyes were playing tricks on me just now, I thought I saw someone walking towards us. But it was just a tree.” You let out an embarrassed sort of sound, once more burying your face in your hands. Damn it. Now what were you going to do?

The feeling of fabric around your shoulders was a surprising one, and you quickly looked up. Albedo was crouching down beside you, having wrapped his coat around you. There was no sense of shame or embarrassment in his eyes, only love and a sense of caring.

“You should’ve told me.” He said, voice soft and warm. “I’m sorry I brought you along when it makes you so uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry I’m being such a pain,” you replied, “it’s such a stupid fear of mine. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I felt like, like you’d think I was being irrational. Like I was being silly.”

“There’s nothing irrational about being afraid of the dark my love. It can be frightening after all, not being able to use all your senses to their full capacity. And even if it were an irrational fear, I wouldn’t look down on you for it. Alchemists, those who study the world, they cannot expect to always interact with what is perfect, what is always rational or what always makes sense. Neither are they infallible themselves. Besides,” he continued, brushing your hair out of your face, “I’d rather you be cautious over nothing than see you hurt.”

You found yourself unable to say anything, overcome by his words. It wasn’t that he’d said anything you hadn’t told yourself, you knew after all that being afraid of the dark wasn’t without a purpose, that it wasn’t utterly irrational in itself. But it felt different when Albedo said it. When you said it there was always your anxiety to counter it, when Albedo said it you accepted it as true. For it was Albedo who said it, and he’d never lie to you.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, hugging the coat closer around you, happy to be enveloped in something so familiar and comforting.

“Of course,” Albedo smiled, kissing you on your forehead, “I love you. So very dearly.”

The rest of the night you kept his coat wrapped around you. Although Albedo had quickly reverted to his informative sort of state he hadn’t forgotten what had passed, and every once in a while he’d give you a quick hug, or squeeze your hand in reassurance.

Overall it wasn’t such a terrible night.

Childe

There was no hiding your fears from Childe.

The man was the nosiest – or perhaps most observant – person you’d ever met, and he’d quickly put two and two together as soon as you’d started living together.

Unfortunately for you Childe also had the kind of work schedule that would make a surgeon’s job feel envious. And a part of that schedule entailed you staying up at all hours of the night, trying desperately not to jump at every sound.

You knew that it was going to be one of those nights, and as of such you’d decided to take a nap in the afternoon, so the lack of sleep wouldn’t weigh on you too much. The afternoon sun had been strong, and though you’d decided not to close the curtains you also didn’t bother to keep any of the lights on. After all it wasn’t supposed to be more than an hour long nap or so, and keeping the lights on felt like a bit of waste.

Your regret came the moment you opened your eyes to the pitch black of your room.

How did something change so drastically from daytime to nighttime? All the familiar figures around you seemed to have disappeared, or perhaps it was more accurate to say they’d been transformed. Now even your closet door seemed to have taken on a life of its own, wriggling within its frame as if possessed. The unobstructed window cut harsh lines along your floor, but it was a cloudy sort of night, and every once in a while even the moon would be snuffed out, sending your heart rate skyrocketing once more.

You were utterly and totally paralyzed. At first you’d drawn the covers over your head, hoping to block it all out, but it was a warm evening and quickly you found yourself throwing your blankets off, needing some unobstructed air, met once more with the terror of the dark.

Childe, you wished Childe were here. He always knew how to chase away the dark, how to make the books and the lamps and the dressers go back to their usual selves. His teasing annoyed you sometimes, but now you longed for the distraction. If only he weren’t so late. If only you’d paid better attention to the time, if only.

Your eyes darted around your room, as if seeking out something you knew wasn’t there. You knew that whatever you saw was an illusion, the result of your brain trying to piece something together, something to keep it from getting bored. You knew perfectly well that it was an explainable phenomenon. And yet fear is so very difficult to fight, so though you continued scolding yourself for your nonsensical actions, you also continued to look around, sure that you’d find something if only you paid enough attention.

Time had frozen along with you, and you were so preoccupied with your fear that the door opening came as a terrible shock. You jumped, adrenaline racing through your veins, but the muffled “I’m home” was what you’d been waiting for. You just needed to go greet him. The moment you got out of your room and to the light of the kitchen it’d be alright. But you were still frozen, and though your mind screamed at your limbs to move you found there was no escaping the sort of spell that had been cast by your fear.

The sliver of light from the hallway finally began to eat away at your trance. The door opening to reveal Childe was what completely broke it.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Childe asked, a look of concerned plastered on his face. You let out a strangled sort of cry as an answer, fumbling off the bed before catapulting straight into his arms, burying your face in his chest. Childe immediately reciprocated the hug, stroking your hair in a soft, soothing motion. It hadn’t taken much to put the pieces together. What else after all could it be.

“It was the dark, wasn’t it?” He asked, whispering a faint “ah” in response to you nodding your head. “It’s okay my darling, I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, alright? It’s okay, it’s alright. It must’ve been very frightening to be alone.” His voice was almost melodic, the sotto tone slowly coaxing you back to yourself.

How confused would people be, you thought to yourself, how confused they’d be if they realized how kind Childe truly is. But you were grateful for that kindness. Right now it was what you needed. There’d be teasing tomorrow, teasing and bantering, and everything that was the usual Childe. But right now there was only comfort and softness, and you thanked Childe and the archons for it.

The rest of the night was a sedate one. You were both tired, Childe from his work, you from not only yours but the terrible fright you’d had. The two of you had eaten a late dinner, chairs pulled up next to each other, hands intertwining intermittently. There wasn’t much talking, instead you two enjoyed being in each other’s presence; the familiarity and comfort it brought.

Though the night was still warm you found yourself cuddling, arms wrapped around one another, legs tangled together. The beating of Childe’s heart steadied you, his breathing reminded you that he was there, that you were safe now. You didn’t have to fear the demons that your mind imagined. He’d scare them away for you.

It was difficult to keep secrets from Childe, and in the beginning the urge had been there. Who would want a significant other who jumped at shadows and was always spinning tales of the dark in their head? Especially someone like Childe who was so confident, so self-possessed. It was shameful, a part of you told yourself, how could he bear it?

But you were glad he’d figured it out, that you couldn’t keep secrets from him. Because at the end of the day Childe knew you best, knew how to keep the fear and the anxiety at bay, knew that being afraid of the dark, although worth a little teasing, didn’t make you any less of a mature and intelligent human being. And for that you loved him.

You loved him so much.

Diluc

“I know this might be sudden, but I want you to move into the Winery.”

That simple sentence had the adverse effect of completely messing up your life.

Your initial reaction had essentially been to buffer. Living together with Diluc, living with the person you loved above all others, it really seemed like a dream come true. Like something you’d wish to happen without any hope of said wish being realized. And yet it wasn’t a dream. He’d actually asked you. Diluc had actually asked you to live with him.

Once you’d gotten over your initial euphoria however a problem seemed instantly to present itself. That problem being that you were absolutely terrified of the Winery after dark.

I mean, who wouldn’t be? It was an old building, old enough for servants to whisper about lights that turned on without prompting, about footsteps coming down the empty halls, about people of old stepping out of their portraits and dancing the night away. It was absolutely terrifying to you, who already looked upon the dark with no little suspicion. And although the occasional night with Diluc was fine, you weren’t sure if you could deal with waiting in such a vast, creaking space alone.

But you didn’t want to tell Diluc that. Because though you were indeed a bit terrified, living with him did sound heavenly. It was something you dreamed of, and you didn’t want Diluc to come away with the wrong impression, the idea that you somehow thought he was being too familiar or going too fast. The thought of telling Diluc about your predicament never crossed your mind in the span of the conversation. After all it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it, he couldn’t very well redo the entire winery. Besides, it was such a silly fear, telling him about it would feel like you were making a mountain out of a molehill.

Eventually your mind settled on an answer: dragging the matter out. Professing your happiness at the idea you told him that it would require some mulling over, not to mention the paperwork in regards to the apartment you were currently living in. Diluc took it all with perfect understanding, assuring you that he could wait. “Besides,” he’d said, “what’s a little while when compared to the rest of our lives?” You’d blushed profusely at that, burying your face in Diluc’s neck. Yes, it would be alright in the end. And with that you pushed it out of your mind.

For the time being.

Although Diluc had many virtues patience was – perhaps surprisingly – not among them. Not more than three days had passed before he mentioned it again. Not that you were unhappy about it, no it wasn’t that. Nor did you feel pressured by him, you certainly didn’t. It was just the question of the Winery itself, and the fear that hung over your head like a sword. Just some time, a little more time.

The days turned into weeks, then almost a whole month, the whole time being wrapped up in your little song and dance. Diluc was evidently feeling dejected, but though you felt more than a little guilty about the whole matter, you still continued stalling.

Finally though things came to a head.

“My dear I understand if you don’t want to move in, but please just tell me!” Diluc burst out, voice dripping with frustration. “I understand if this is going too fast, I understand if you’re overwhelmed, I understand if you realize you’re not ready. But you must tell me, you must tell me what you’re thinking or else I’ll never be able to put this at rest.”

“It’s not that.” You assured him, shaking your head violently.

“Then what is it?” Your reply stuck in your mouth at his question. Why had it come to this? Conflicting emotions rose inside you, but all of them pointed towards one thing. You needed to tell him the truth. You needed to, or else this was going to turn into one of the stupidest rows you’d ever participated in.

“I… I’m afraid of the dark.” You replied softly, voice petering out to be no more than a whisper. Immediately the look of exasperation on Diluc’s face was replaced by one of concern.

“My dear?”

“I’m afraid of the dark,” you replied, this time with more force, “I’m afraid of the dark and I’m really afraid of the Winery after dark. So that’s why I’ve been putting it off. Not because I don’t want to move in, not because I think this is going too fast, but because the Winery makes me uncomfortable after dark. It’s so creaky and open and old and while that might be charming in the daytime, at night I feel like someone’s watching me.” You hugged yourself slightly, the image placed vividly in your mind. Yes, you did feel like you were being watched. Everywhere you turned you were surrounded by the eyes of those who were long gone, and it frightened you, how terribly it frightened you.

Diluc closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping you in his embrace. You reciprocated immediately, inhaling deeply, comforted by his presence.

“I’m sorry my dear, I didn’t know. If I had I’d have never proposed it.”

“You couldn’t’ve known,” your voice was slightly muffled by his jacket, “besides, I didn’t want to tell you. Because I knew you couldn’t do anything about it.” Lifting your head up you gazed at Diluc, who cupped your face with his hand.

“You don’t have to move in my dear.” Diluc’s voice was soft but firm, there was nothing but sympathy and encouragement in it. You smiled softly, leaning into the palm of his hand.

“But I want to. That’s the problem Diluc, I desperately want to move in. And yet I don’t know what to do. I can’t have you hanging around me each night. You’re the Darknight Hero. I cannot expect you to give that up for me. Even if you said you would I wouldn’t let you. I know how much it matters to you.”

There was a pause before Diluc spoke again. “Then let me suggest this. We see ways that we might accommodate. Perhaps a night lamp or some such thing. Or perhaps I need to pay more attention to the structure of the Winery. We’ll see what we can do together, and if nothing can be solved then we’ll find another way. Is that alright, my dear?”

“That sounds lovely.” You replied, finally smiling in earnest. What did you do to deserve such a human in your life? It felt like too much sometimes. You were experiencing such happiness as you seldom had before, not to such a degree. And you cherished it with all your heart.

It was the evening. You two were getting ready for the night, you preparing to go home, Diluc preparing for the task ahead of him.

“You spoil me terribly, you know.” You said, planting a quick kiss on Diluc’s cheek. Diluc smiled slightly mischievously, leaning down to give you a proper kiss.

“I don’t spoil you.” He finally replied, expression softening to one of fondness. “And if there was anyone in the world worth spoiling it’s you. I love you my dear, I’d do anything for you.”

“And I for you.” Your reply was soft, you yourself overcome by the love you felt.

It’d be alright in the end. If you knew anything, you knew that. It’d be alright. Because you’d have the one you loved most in the world with you every step.

#this title is so pompous...#the other option was 'irrational'#Blatant wish fulfillment when it comes to wearing albedo’s coat #Also is Diluc’s too rushed?#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #albedo #childe #diluc #albedo x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #scenarios #my writing

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spinaroos-47 · 3 years

Text

Hunter Noceda AU: Venance

(can't digitalize these rn so you'll get the sketches for now)

So yeah, Golden Guard version two!

When Belos does find out about Hunter in YBOS, Hunter gets the bomb dropped about them being related (idk how yet). but Hunter obviously doesn’t believe in it. Until Hunting Palismen comes around and they find this small thingy, Venance.

(thank you @bernardo-draws-and-cries for the name. Its based on the name Venâncio, which means “the one who hunts”)

He is another grimwalker made by Belos, he’s 12 (yeah.) and way more stressed (Belos has gotten more iron fisted after losing Hunter). Someone save this poor child

- He’s just starting out as the Golden Guard (and he’s not a coven head. Kikimora is. And she still wants him dead too), he’s still getting the hang of it. He does act tough and serious, way more serious than canon GG/Hunter, no space for goofyness.

- So yeah, a duo Hunting Palismen thing would be fun. Haven’t sorted out everything here but I do think Hunter would also go with Luz because of no palisman reasons. And he hasn’t met Ven yet, he only heard Lilith talking about him and Luz and Eda dealing with him on Separate Tides (he was busy drowning in guilt and trying to help with the money situation in other ways), so when he meets Ven and when he sees his face and how similar they are (and how many scars that kid already has), he’s reasonably confused/upset, like “Oh, that creepy man wasn’t lying. This doesn’t make anything on this situation better”

- After the initial surprise/confusion, Luz and Hunter jokingly call him Ghaterer until they learn his name, then they start calling him Ven. At first Ven hates this nickname but ends up reluctantly accepting it.

- Even before Eclipse Lake he’s so scared about being replaced, and knowing about Hunter’s existence in the Boiling Isles makes it worse, now he’s super sure he isn’t as valuable to Belos anymore. So he hates Hunter

- Hunter: come here youre part of the found family now

Ven: NO

Hunter: too late *picks him up*

Hunter: If Luz taught me something is that if you didn’t want to get assimilated into my found family, you should have killed me when you had the chance

Yeah that’s their dynamic when Hunter learns a bit more about him

- Venance doesn’t have much respect as the Golden Guard yet. He’s small (like, maybe even less than 1,50m/4′11″), young, has just been starting out on this role, like, in the last few months, could easily be picked up like a kitty, so he has to fight quite a bit to be taken seriously. Which results on him being way more grumpy and short tempered

- So he doesn’t take it very well when hes made fun of by the scouts in Latissa. Not at all

- Hunter, who was joking around until then:…are you okay?

Ven: I AM! *barely holding the tears back*

Hunter:

Hunter: that’s it youre part of the family now

Ven: you can’t do that

Hunter: we’re two and you’re one, we have your staff and youre very light.

(he still would put up a fight, and it would take a while for it to end. And he bites hard, he has very sharp fangs)

- Scouts: Go home with your sibiling

Hunter: *oh. Oh yeah i forgot we have the same freaking face*

- They don’t know yet about the grimwalker thing. Well, maybe Ven discovers later but at the moment where Hunting Palismen happens, neither of them know anything besides them being related, Ven got told he is his brother, and that Hunter was taken away from the coven before he was born

- Rascal seeing Hunter: hey you’re cool, i kinda want to be your palisman

Rascal seeing Ven: oh heck this kid needs help

- I’m not sure if Hunter gets Lil Rascal. Because on one side, would be fun for him to have Lil Rascal and train doing magic like this, but also could be good for Ven to have some small support back at home, like how they are to Hunter in canon. So this hasn’t been decided yet. Hunter could either get Lil Rascal and Ven doesn’t get a palisman/gets a blue jay palisman, or Ven gets Lil Rascal and Hunter comes back also empty handed

- So I’m going with the no palisman for Hunter route for now.

- It’s a bitter moment for both him and Luz. He tries to convince her that it’s okay, that they’ll get theirs soon, but she still kinda feels like a failure about this. And he himself thinks it’s because they don’t have a magic bile sac, so it’s not a good time for them. Eda and King lift their spirits a bit about this, though.

- Either by peeking around or just flat out being told, Ven does learn about him (and Hunter) being grimwalkers. What does he do with that? He has a crisis about it, which raises even more the stakes for him in Eclipse Lake. He still wouldn’t know his purpose for the Day of Unity, but he would know that he was created for it and could lose his position if he didn’t prove himself worthy of it.

- He would explode at Hunter one day and end up telling the truth about them being Grimwalkers (after Eclipse Lake)

- Ven: Do you want to know what you really are?! You’re a clone! You’re just someone’s clone just like me! A replacement!

Hunter, trying to not freak out but freaking out anyways: ...are you okay?

Ven; WHAT DO YOU THINK?

- If Belos is searching for Hunter, on the grounds of him being a more mature grimwalker than Venance, Ven could end up resorting to sabotaging the searches, he doesn’t want to be replaced.

- And he’s making Ven convinced that he will be replaced, to pit both boys against eachother. He gets Ven more under his thumb and not risking Hunter making Ven change his mind. Which doesn’t work as he intented, Ven does get scared about it but Hunter ends up pretty quickly going “dude why do you think I want to replace you?” and Ven is quickly thrown into a loop because he can’t understand why he wouldn’t want to do that

- Ven: what do you mean with “I don’t wanna be the Golden Guard”? If you’re like me you should DESIRE IT SINCE YOU WERE BORN

Hunter: lol no. I dealt with my need of approval a year ago on therapy.

Hunter: Also being a cop sucks.

- This boy is a tense child always a few bad moments away from a breakdown/meltdown. And has anger problems. A lot of anger in a very tiny body

- There’s some more interactions between Ven and the Noceda duo, and he would rather die than admit that he’s got slightly attached to them

- Eda: Luz told me that Golden Guard is a uwu smol boi that needs to be protected, hell knows what this means

Hunter, who definetly came there too because FUCKING COOL ASS CAVE AND LAKE: i hate/love her

Ven: If i ever see that human again-

Amity AND Hunter: watch your fucking mouth

(definetly not how it would play out but very funny sdkdshdfsj)

- In terms of strength he couldn’t defeat Amity in a fight for the key, he would lean more on the blackmailing. He is a 12 year old but he’s still on a position of power on the emperor’s coven and he knows where the key is, it would put the owlfam on Belos’ line of sight again (if they even ever went away from it)

- That or he passes out, gets dragged out of there by them (he’s a lil shit but they’re not going to leave him there alone where Kikimora could kill him) and he falls asleep for 12 hours in the couch on the owl house. Which ends up giving him a day where he can be just a kid. He’s very weirded out by everything but he enjoys it a little bit at least. He would still try to get the key and would be torn apart by the guilt of thinking of doing this and the guilt of not doing this

- It wouldn’t take much to make him want to stay in the owl house. He’s starved for positive attention. It wouldn’t be easy but also it’s not as hard as for how Hunter is right now in canon

- I don’t think this could happen but I keep thinking about one day him and Hunter switching places so he can be just a kid for one day. Would be cool to see him sneaking into Hexside (or being dragged there, which is more likely to happen) and interacting with Willow and Gus

And that’s some of what we have for Ven right now! He’s a fun character to figure out :3

This took SO MUCH TIME to write

#toh #the owl house #long post #golden guard #hunter noceda au #au #toh au #toh oc #i guess?#alec talks #my art #venance

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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

Anything faust!valter

I usually don't enjoy vague requests like this, but I was writing a Faust!V piece anyway. So, I'll just put this here.

Warning: 18+ smut, mature language, anti-religious themes. **In this part: consensual sleep sex, family conflict, angst.**

Summary: Faust and Faith get caught in the act, propelling Faith to do the one thing she never thought herself capable: defy her father.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

A warm prodding awakened Faith in the early hours. Faust was pressed against her naked back, chest and stomach soft and contoured to her spine. Lower down, he nudged her with a growing erection. It twitched across her tailbone once, twice, and so on, in reflection with the man's heartbeat. He felt enormous behind her. Drawing his knees up, his thighs balled her and squeezed.

His breath spread over the back of her neck, followed by a crawling moan. Faust curled his hips under hers, seeking out the sleek warmth between her legs. They had fallen asleep with the TV on, and the same non-stop pornographic advertisements played with the volume low. The ruddy morning glow swirled up the moans, tenderizing the bedded bodies in low heat.

Faust whispered through strands of hair, "can I be inside of you?"

Faith raised her right leg, providing him access which he took with a slow but forceful stab. He trusted her whimpers and went along with each one, finding a steady rhythm guided by her noises. Sleep still licked at his eyelids, teaming with comfort to lead Faust back into a restful embrace. Even her enclosing wetness wasn't enough to keep his eyes open.

This process repeated. Faust fought lazily to stay awake, to stay hard inside of her. Faith didn't seem to mind the five-minute doses of lovemaking with a reprieve to doze. Car alarms, porn trailers and a gentle buzzing went off, ignored by the sleepy couple.

Faust picked up the pace eventually and lifted Faith's leg for less resistance. He slammed into her, wrapping one long arm around her midriff to keep her from bouncing across the bed. Anchored, Faith let the stretch soothe her to the core. Having him inside, muted and reserved to the pleasure and not the filth, was a rarity she longed to savour. Too often, Faust spent their time together teasing, making her feel like the hungry one, the desperate one. Now, he was the one who couldn't hold back.

"Faith... I'm gonna come soon."

Before she replied, he angled her face to smother her mouth with a kiss. His lips devoured her moans, tongue licking hers. He sent his hand down to her groin and pressed his index and middle finger together to create the perfect cushion for her clit.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, that's amazing."

"Mm, good. I need you to come at the same time as me."

The request struck Faith softer than his usual demands. Faust always told her exactly what to do, at the precise time, through clenched teeth, and if she failed to meet his expectations, he hissed and scolded her. Not this time. Faust paused his movements to get her up to speed.

"Mm, more, please," Faith said.

He fed her half his length. Anything more, and she would clench and mewl. Faust didn't want that kind of thing today. Working her clit with his fingers and pumping himself into her with care, Faust forgot everything.

Faith's cell phone continued to rumble. The first few rounds of vibrations had gone unnoticed, but now Faith was starting to worry. It broke her concentration, robbed Faust's caresses of poignancy. It was Sunday morning, and she hadn't checked in with her parents in a few days. By the shade of light filtering through the rust-coloured drapes, she deduced it couldn't be later than noon.

"Faust...I should answer my phone."

"No, baby. Just stay here. Get close with me."

"I can't," she said. "What if it's..."

"Don't answer. What's more important? Me, or him? You're a big girl. Make your own decisions."

Faith closed her eyes and waited for the vibrations to cease. Faust had not stopped slowly easing his cock inside of her, then out and back in. He delivered one stroke that was harder than the others and hooked her attention back to him.

"Come on, beautiful. Help me come."

It was another hour before Faust came to his shuddering end and spilled a shocking amount of cum both inside Faith and between her thighs. It dripped onto the bed, soaked the sheets and continued dribbling from her cunt even as he climbed down the bed to position his face there. He licked her from hole to clit, over and over until she moaned animatedly.

"Oh my god, Faust."

"You like that, baby? Let me lick that cum-soaked pussy for you."

Faust pinched the sensitive crest, revealing her clit and applying pressure. He used the months he'd spent eating her out to pull out all the tricks. He teased her opening with his middle finger, flicking her clit periodically to make her nerves jump.

"So much fucking cum in there. Oh, it's so nice watching it all dripping out of that perfect hole."

Again, the commotions of the outside world faded into obscurity while they played in their private bubble. Not even the indecency on the TV screen compared to Faust's green eyes watching her reactions while a perfect pair of lips toyed with every inch of her womanhood. She stroked his long hair back, but the black tresses fell over his face until he shouldered them out of the way.

"Are you ready to come for me, Faith?"

"Mm, yes. I'm ready."

"Yeah? What do you want? My fingers a bit harder? Suck your clit?"

"Both," she gasped.

Faust served two equally measured stimulations, enhanced by the slippery sound of his tongue. The peak fell into line, nudged forward by the mix of incentives working together to tickle her beyond pleasure. The noise delighted Faith, filled her with arousal, and she twisted and writhed as her climax approached. Matched with Faust's deep moans, the television and cars passing by on the street faded into obscurity. All thoughts of her neglected cell phone disappeared.

All of this smashed against an invisible wall and shattered before realization. There was a temperamental rapping at the door, followed by the boom of Faith's name from the other side. Faith shot up and away from Faust, clutching for a pillow to block her nudity.

"Faith! You better get out here, girl!"

"Daddy?"

"Oh, shit," said Faust. "Go to the bathroom. Now. Go on!"

Faith scrambled off the bed and grabbed her shredded panties from where Faust threw them the night before. In her haste, she missed her top and only brought her skirt into the washroom for coverage.

Faust wiped his glistening mouth, let the pounding at the door go unanswered until he caught his breath and climbed into his boxers. Prepared to face Stan, he wrenched open the door and found the man fuming, ready to throw his fists.

"Where is she?" Stan asked, bowling through the door and into the motel room where pornography still flashed on the TV.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Faith! Get out here now."

"You need to get the fuck out, right now. Faith's not here."

"Bullshit! Her phone's right there on the table."

Stan went to the bathroom door and banged hard enough the wood jumped from its frame. Faust hauled the man away from the door and met swift resistance.

"You can't be in here!"

"Don't tell me what I can't do. You have my daughter!"

"Daddy, please stop!" Faith cried from the other side of the bathroom door.

Stan glared at Faust with heat snapping behind his eyes. Not one to succumb to intimidation, Faust planted his feet and motioned for the man to leave.

"Don't make this violent, Stan. Faith's with me. She's a fucking adult."

The father noticed the television and spat on the carpet.

"She will never see you again if I have anything to do with it."

"That's just it... There's nothing you can do. So, I suggest you get the fuck out of here before something bad happens."

Stan ignored Faust and knocked on the door again.

"Faith, get dressed. You're coming with me."

"Daddy, you have to leave. I don't have any clothes."

"You son of a bitch," Stan hissed. "What the fuck have you done to my daughter? First, you don't answer calls, then I find you in here fornicating with this scumbag? What the hell is wrong with you, Faith?"

"Look, man, she doesn't have any clothes. Get the fuck out so she can at least get dressed. Or do you plan on dressing her yourself?"

Stan ignored Faust's comments with a sneer. "Have you forgotten your phone's tracking? How did you think this would end, Faith? Your mother and I thought you were taken! Get dressed right now, young lady. You are in for the punishment of your life!"

Faust followed Stan outside and watched the preacher thrash his fists. He recognized the car in front and smirked. The father's anger spread, fuelling Faust's urge to retaliate.

"You'll never keep her away from me," said Faust with a laugh.

"Shut your mouth."

"Can't handle the truth, can you? You hate that she loves me. You hate the thought of someone like me with her."

Stan whipped a warning look at Faust. The air outside was cool and raised goosebumps over his bare skin, but inside, his guts boiled. Faust longed for a more violent reaction. He wanted fire and destruction.

"I fucked her. You've no idea how many times I've fucked her."

Faith made it outside in time to witness her father advance on Faust. She shrieked as Stan's fist made contact with Faust's jaw and sent him reeling backward. He clenched the side of his chin and laughed, blood already coating his teeth.

"Oh, nice shot, big man. Come on. Beat the shit out of me. Show your daughter how a man handles things."

"Get in the car, Faith," Stan pointed.

"No, Daddy. I'm not leaving."

"Faith! I said get in the car!"

"No, Daddy! I won't go with you!"

Faith ran to Faust and threw herself around him, burying her face under his arm. Faust popped his brows and snickered.

"It's okay, babe. I'm fine. It was a good punch, though. Enough for an assault charge."

Faust kissed the top of Faith's head, eyes pinned to Stan while he licked his teeth.

"Get over it, preacher. She's mine."

"Stop it! Both of you stop, right now!" Faith pushed off Faust and stood in the middle of them. "Daddy, you have to go. I'm not a baby, and I'm not going to church. You can move the whole family across the country if you want to, but I'm staying and going to school."

"You are not missing church," Stan said.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions. And I'm disabling my phone's tracker. This is an invasion of my privacy. And Faust... You keep quiet, too! Both of you."

The manager of the motel stepped out of the office, interested in the source of the commotion but not concerned enough to call the police. Fights broke out on the property all the time. Drapes pulled back, and anonymous eyes surveyed the scene as well. Faith suddenly felt far too exposed to the possibility a gust of wind might lift her skirt and reveal her nakedness. She reserved to make a point to Faust to stop ruining her underwear, but that would have to wait.

"Get in your car, drive back home, and maybe I won't press charges, old man," Faust negotiated.

"I'm not leaving without my daughter."

"Fine. You can stay here and explain to the cops why you punched me in the face and how you're trying to abduct an adult who has already stated multiple times that she doesn't want to leave. I'm sure that will all sound really nice to your congregation."

"Faith... You have one more chance. Get in, or else," Stan opened the car door.

She shook her head while disbelief of her actions sickened her stomach. Not once had she ever defied her father. Before the morning's incident, she didn't believe she had it in her to refuse him. The sky didn't turn red, and the earth refused to break open and swallow her. Faith understood what Faust had been saying; she didn't have to listen to anyone but herself.

Defeated, Stan got into the family car, staring at his daughter through the windshield. His oldest daughter, who he barely recognized, returned the stare until he drove off. Once the car turned the corner and was out of sight, Faust began to laugh.

"Stop laughing! Why do you think this is funny?" Faith asked.

"I dunno. It just is."

"No, it's not! Do you understand the trouble I'm in? You don't know what my dad will do. I'll have to move! I can't afford my own place working part-time."

"Baby, don't worry. You're not moving away from me. I won't let you."

Faith's delayed reaction hit all at once, like a storm cloud bursting above her head. Fiery tears stung her eyes as panic erupted from within her ribcage.

"So, what? You're gonna let me move in with you? Live in your tiny room with your weird roommate, who you hate? Because I highly doubt Mister Solitary will want me around twenty-four seven. You already can't handle more than a couple of days around me at once."

"Faith...Baby, come on. Don't say that kind of shit. We'll find our own place, obviously."

"You don't have a job anymore! You quit your band!"

"Doesn't matter. Just trust me. Stop crying, and trust me, okay? I'll get it all worked out. You have two more months at school before we have to make any moves. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?"

"No," Faith peeped. "I guess not."

"I got this, Faith. Stop worrying. You're with me, and that's all that matters, right?"

She nodded. Faust pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Everything's gonna be fine. I promise."

#faust x faith #Faust!Valter #Valter Skarsgard fanfiction #Valter Skarsgard imagine

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ivyglow · 4 years

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I don’t want you like a best friend - Andre Burakovsky

A/n: Sooo, I wrote this as some kind of gift to my best friend because she loves Andre and she was trying to get me on his train (I guess she did?). She’s always hitting me with “no but you should definitely write about Tito/Andre”. Here’s your piece @skarsgardswiftie I hope you like it! <3 I love you sm Also, a huge shout out to @sebs-aston for proofreading this with such an attentive eye! You’re amazing, liv!

Requested: yes / no

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol

Summary: you’re friends with Andre, but things are about to change after you create a TikTok account and start doing challenges that may lead to news between you and your favorite hockey player.

When it comes to capturing a moment you’re usually the person your friends think about, not simply because you’re always carrying a camera -mainly because of it-, but because you’re great with what you do -either photos or videos-. That’s also why your Instagram profile has more followers than an ordinary girl would and it’s the only place people can find you -besides e-mail-. However, that changed when your best friend -Callie- convinced you to create a TikTok account. You, of course, hated it, but she had the perfect opportunity -you were a bit tipsy, all your friends around, sunny weekend and so it goes.

“Mikko, do you think I’m pretty?” You direct the camera to his face while looking expectantly.

Saturday evening rolled around, the hot weather forcing your friends either to the inside of the pool or under the sunshade and their hands busy with cold drinks. It was a happy day, everyone was around, and you were enjoying the vacation. You had met half of the Hockey team as soon as you moved to Colorado and Erik, your and your brother’s hometown best friend decided you needed to know his crew and the city around. Six months later and you knew pretty much everyone and everything.

“Of course I think you’re pretty” he gives you a confused look before you turn to Tyson giggling.

“Josty, do you think I’m pretty?” you ask and he looks straight at the camera “I would give you 5 out of 10 cause you’re bro.”

You laugh and turn to Andre this time.

“Andre, do you think I’m pretty?”

He seems taken aback by the question and unlike Tyson, he stares at you. “Of course you’re pretty.”

You keep to your task and last but not least is Nathan, he’s sitting at a table while working on some drinks and you take him by surprise by jumping in front of him. “Mac, do you think I’m pretty?”

He rolls his eyes playfully and turns his attention to you for some seconds before looking at his drink again, “I would one hundred percent date you if you were not my sisters’ best friend”

And then your time is over.

“So you’re a tiktoker now?” Erik sits beside you and Nathan just as you uploaded the video. He raises his eyebrows and you roll your eyes lightly, “you know I hate TikTok, but it’s fun, so…”

“She’s gonna end up famous there too”, Andre announces leaning his body on the table and motioning for Nathan to refill his drink. Your eyes roam on his big hands grasping the red cup, his cheeks red from the sun, and the way you could see his dimples when he smiled at you, his hair messy in a cute way.

“Why do you think that?” now he has three pairs of curious eyes staring at him.

You almost chuckled when his point finger scratched his chin. His skin glowing, “I mean, you’re funny and cute…cute girls get famous on TikTok” he reasoned.

“Is this your best, Burki?” Erik asks and for the way his lips were tight against each other you knew he wanted to laugh.

“C’mon, let them be,” Nathan said after giving the blond American a new cup, and before you could ask what was the matter Callie was calling you at the door.

Your best friend started a rant about how she was going to get Chinese take-out for dinner and when you told her she should get Thai too -because it was Andre’s favorite- she started another rant about how you should tell him you’re in love and how it was cute the way you two functioned but also annoying. All you could do was savor your drink and mentally play a Taylor Swift song while she went on, “I mean it, y/n! Just tell him already…”

“Have you seen Andre?!” you whisper-scream to her and Callie sights rolling her eyes, “what about him?”

Swallowing the last sip of your drink you start to draw doodles on the glass with your fingers, “I’m just y/n, he’s Andre Burakovsky”. You usually were not insecure about your looks, but it was Andre, and the fact that he was a famous and good-looking hockey player made you question how in heavens he would like you back. Hell, you were not even sure how you two ended up in such a close friendship, he always being so affectionate and listening to everything you had to say. Your friendship seemed like the most you could take from the interaction. You knew he was ‘just Andre’ too when all your friends were gathered, but being ‘just Andre’ was as amazing as being Andre Burakovsky the hockey player.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, y/n, and I don’t mean considering only your looks, but everything. You’re funny, smart, and always so attentive with everyone, you listen to everything and always have nice things to say, don’t you ever doubt your value, you hear me?” Callie’s words make you sit up straight in the stall and your eyes water.

“In my defense, this is not me crying, this is tipsy me having an emotional moment”, you joke and it’s seconds before the two of you are laughing the way you used to during a John Mulaney show.

…

It was night when you unlocked your phone only to find a bunch of notifications from TikTok, some of the comments from fans about how happy the boys seemed, but most were about the way Andre looked at you when you asked the question. According to the most liked comment “this is clearly a friends to lovers, mutual pining, unaware love and slow-burn situation” which made you giggle but also replay the video a dozen times trying to figure out if there was really something there and you were the unaware one.

Needless to say, you weren’t able to reach a conclusion, but it felt different when you excused yourself to take a shower after spilling wine in your shirt and you felt Andre’s eyes on you all the way to the stairs. His hands on your shoulders felt heavier and the way he was attentive whenever you needed a refill or wanted a bite of food seemed more intimate and caring than ever.

Hitting the shuffle button, you chose your Taylor Swift playlist before entering the shower. The cold water cooled you off a bit, it was almost like washing out part of the alcohol in your system, but your tipsy mind kept finding evidence that Andre liked you back.

You went through your clothes finding a floral summer dress and sipping on your wine while brushing your hair. Your body was still feeling hot and at this point, you didn’t know if it was from the sun on your face or the alcohol in your system, but when you heard the first notes of “Dress” playing you knew you were going to do something stupid, especially because your cell phone was one arm away. If someone asked you where the idea came from you wouldn’t know what to answer, and usually thinking about how you didn’t have an answer was enough to make you give up on some stupid ideas...not this one though.

Reaching for your phone you unlocked it and walked to the body-length mirror in the room you were sharing with Callie. It took less than 2 minutes to snap a picture and send it to him and it took him less than 1 minute to answer it.

‘Woah’

‘You liked it?’ you sent back

‘Yeah, you’re looking good, cutie’ he answered just as fast, before sending a red heart emoji.

‘I don’t want you like a friend’

‘and I only bought this dress so you could take it off’

It was the exact line Taylor was singing when you reached the send button. You saw the dots appearing and disappearing and your body sobered up even more than before.

“Fuck!” you almost voiced. How would he look at you after this? Could you pretend you confused him with someone else? Of course not, he was the only Andre you knew! And everyone knew better you were not the bold flirty type.

That was it, your secret was spilled just like your wine on your shirt earlier, but now you wouldn’t be able to clean off the stain.

Would he believe it if you told him it was a prank to your new TikTok account?

You were lost in your thoughts before three knocks on your door startled you. And there he was when you pushed the door open. Standing with his hands inside his pockets and his hair still messy, he stared at you. It took maybe five minutes before he spoke, but it felt like an eternity considering his intense eyes studying you.

“You’re looking even better this close” for some reason his voice is low like he didn’t want anyone to hear and pop the bubble of the moment.

You feel your body getting hotter, pretty sure your face is turning even redder, so you reach your hands to both of your cheeks. That gets a giggle out of Andre and you instantly move them to your back, your eyes now staring at his bare feet.

All you wanted to do was bury yourself on a rabbit hole until Andre lost his memory, or you lost yours. You were thinking about the possibility of a secret society -Alice in Wonderland style- inside the rabbit hole that you could live in forever when Burki extended his hand, his palm facing you, silently asking you to put your hand in his. So you did. And it was only a blink of an eye before his body was closer, almost touching yours.

“You’re not that drunk, are you?” he questioned.

You shook your head no and he moved his hand to your waist as a message that maybe -and only maybe- he wanted to be close too. So you moved your right one to his large shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re not drunk…”

“I’m just a bit hot and bothered” and dying out of shame! You screamed inside your head.

“Oh sure you are”, he replied with a small smile playing at the corner of his pink lips. Your brows raised in confusion and before you could ask, he answered, “hot. You’re hot”.

“Does it mean you’re gonna take my dress off?” you have no idea when you got so bold, but Andre seemed amused with everything.

“No, not tonight. You’re not drunk, but you’re a bit tipsy, I don’t want to start things like this” his fingers are in your cheekbone and you lean into him. “I’m gonna kiss you though, can I?”

His lips, so different from his hands, were soft and hot. They found yours timidly, exploring the space while his body welcomed yours closer, he took his time before his fingers were in your hair and his tongue caught your lips.

It felt good.

Like never before.

For some seconds you wished to be able to capture the moment and save it forever. Repeat it in your head every day.

Andre played with the strings of your dress, slipping it off your shoulders and you got into your tiptoes to peck his lips one last time.

“So...I take you really liked the dress?”

“I actually like you, the dress is a bonus” he shrugs and you giggle before finding yourself wrapped in another kiss.

#andre burakovsky #andre burakovsky imagine #Colorado Avalanche #hockey imagine #mels writing #nathan mackinnon #tyson jost #erik johnson

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sollannaart · 3 years

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Hello, I've scrolled through your blog to make sure, this question wasn't asked before, but it would seem that it wasn't (though I could've missed it). Can I please ask you of prince Poniatowski's attitude towards Napoleon?

No, this question has not been asked yet, and thank you very much for sending it! It will be my please to write a answer to this.

Relationship between prince Józef Poniatowski and the emperor Napoleon Bonapart

I am sorry, this turned out to be a very long read, and on the topic a little bit wider than asked, so I had to specify the title and give the short answer for those who aren’t interested in details.

So in brief - Poniatowski respected Napoleon, but wasn’t a blind worshipper of the emperor. And in situations when in the balance there might have been Napoleon and Poland, and only one thing was to be chosen for prince Józef this one definitely would be his motherland.

Bronisław Gembarzewski, prince Józef and Napoleon

Emperor Napoleon, as all fans of the epoch knows, first arrived to Warsaw in December of 1806. But to start the long-read about relationship between the emperor and the prince properly we need make a step backwards, to understand what these two thought about each other on the moment of their first meeting.

Prince Józef, in comparison with many of his country men, participated in none of general Bonapart’s campaigns. What’s more - when the count of Provence, future king Louis XVIII resided in Warsaw in 1801-1804 he was an often visitor of Poniatowski’s palace. (So it may be said that before 1806 prince Józef was kind of a “royalist”.)

However, with Napoleon’s victory over Prussia and the emperor’s arrival to the former Polish lands chances of Poland rising from the dead skyrocketed! And prince Józef realized that he couldn’t have stayed away any longer, that if he wanted to participate in his motherland reappearing on the map of Europe he had to join the French.

As for Napoleon - in 1806 the emperor of Frenchmen didn’t have any warm feeling towards the nephew of the last king of Poland. One of the reason was that Claude Carloman de Rulhière, with whose book Histoire de l’anarchie de Pologne Napoleon had studied history of lands he was going conquer, wasn’t sympnathising the Poniatowski family. As other reasons there may be named a fact, that that time in French Army there were other Poles, whom the emperor knew better, like generals Jan Henryk Dąbrowski and Józef Zajączek.

Nevertheless, because when leaving Warsaw the Prussians kinda left the city “in charge” of Poniatowski, Napoleon had to meet prince Józef on entering the city. And from the data I was able to find it looks like the first meeting of the emperor and the prince happened on the 19th of December.

Prince Józef with Napoleon during the war campaign - drawing by Wacław Lipiński

With this image I am obliged to make a small digression. Napoleon, as recent investigation show, was not that short as he was thought to be because of English cartoons. Józef Poniatowski, on the other hand, was described by the contemporaries as a man of the middle height. So, in my opinion standing side-by-side these two must have looked like as people of the same height.

With the emperor so prejudiced against prince Józef, you may ask, how did it happen that less than a month later, on the 14th of January 1807, the latter was appointed as a Director of War? (In October of 1807, after the Duchy of Warsaw was created, Poniatowski’s post acquired the name of “Minister of War”.)

The answer is that behind the event there was a long and complicated intrigue, in which were involved such people as Joachim Murat (with whom, as you may remember, prince Józef quickly became friends) and Charles Maurice de Talleyrand, that time Foreign Minister of France. (As for the latter - his protection was asked by Pepi’s sister, Teresa Tyszkiewicz.)

And I can’t help but mention that Poniatowski’s nomination nevertheless had some advantages, because in comparison with his “rivals” he was a representative of the aristocracy, what might have provided support to Napoleon from the Polish high-society.

And speaking of high-society I can’t help touching a rather delicate topic, related with Napoleon’s love life, with which Poniatowski - in comparison with what is thought about him - had nothing to do. Yes, I mean the story of prince Józef (and other Polish dignitaries) supposedly forcing Maria Walewska to give in to the emperor in exchange for “Poland’s resurrection”.

SCREENSHOT FROM THE MOVIE “MARYSIA I NAPOLEON”. From left to right - Zdzisław Makłakiewicz as prince Józef, Gustaw Holoubek as Napoleon, Beata Tyszkiewicz as Maria Walewska, Ignacy Machowski as Duroc, Kazimierz Rudzki as Talleyrand, Juliusz Łuszczewski as Anastazy Walewski

Many people believe in it because it is written in so-called Walewska’s memoirs, but the investigations of Polish historians (like, fir example, Marian Brandys) prove that not everything might have happened like it was described in the memoirs. And prince Poniatowski’s involvement in the story is one of the facts. (The closest connection he might have had with this is that Mme Henriette de Vauban, his mistress, might have tried to influence Mme Walewska. But this is definitely a topic to continue in - if at all - a separate post.

So, let’s return to relationship between Poniatowski and Napoleon.

In 1809 the Duchy of Warsaw was attacked by the Austrians, and the Army of the Duchy showed its combat strength, winning the war and taking back from the enemy a huge a part of former Polish territories. The emperor was impressed by prince Józef’s inferiors’ performance, till such a degree that he awarded the latter with the highest imperial order of merit, the cross of the Legion of Honour.

But this was done “by proxy”, and the next, after year 1807, meeting of these two happened only in 1811 in Paris, where Poniatowski was invited to attend the christening of Napoleon’s son, the king of Rome.

Prince Józef arrived to Paris on the 23rd of April, and in the evening of that very day received an invitation from the emperor to appear next day in Saint Clou. What’s more, Poniatowski’s visit was to be happen at once, without an obliged advance as the ceremony of representation by the Saxon ambassador.

Prince Józef with Napoleon during the ceremonial audience at the Tuileries Palace - drawing by Maria Artwińska

And this is the image I like, because both - the prince and emperor - seem to have there the “correct” height!

Why was Napoleon so eager to see prince Józef? Well, at least because the latter brought with him news, which was dangerous to trust to paper. Namely - about planning Russian invasion of the Duchy and the tsar attempts to persuade the Polish Minister of War to switch sides and join the anti-napoleonic coalition. (Can’t help but mention there that Poniatowski revealed Napoleon mere facts, but not the names of the people communicating with him, in order not to put them in danger.)

And what about christening? Of course, prince Józef participated in the ceremony, and was even allowed to have an audience with the child-king. And, no doubts, there followed other court events, huntings, balls, etc. Old friend, Murat, and Poniatowski’s sister’s love interest, Talleyrand, introduced Pepi to the highest Parisian society. Also Pepi paid a visit to the ex-empress Josephine.

Prince Józef in conversation with Napoleon and the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, Talleyrand - drawing by Andrzej Zarzycki

And though initially prince Józef’s stay in the French capital was planned to be a couple of months, in fact it prolonged to four, till the emperor’s birthday. And leaving finally on the 27th of August Poniatowski received as a farewell gift a beautiful snuffbox planted with diamonds and a loan to… pay the debts of his sister Teresa.

And then there came the year 1812. Prince Józef was made the commander of the 5th Corps of the Grande Armée, and with the rest of the Army went to Russia.

However, above “The Polish corps” there was a commander not very competent and lucky, emperor’s younger brother Jérôme. And when it happened that the Russian Army under general Bagration managed to escape from the “second center” corps led by Jérôme, Napoleon blamed on this... prince Józef.

In the battle of Smolensk, however, the Vth Corps managed to distinguish to such a degree, that together with its commander it was mentioned in a bulletin of the Grande Armée.

Jean-Charles Langlois, The Battle of Smolensk, 17th August 1812, detail

But after that battle there happened a very dramatic scene between the prince and the emperor. Because, as you might know, the city of Smolensk was the most eastern town ever belonged to Poland. So, if Napoleon’s goal was, as it had been proclaimed in the beginning of the war, to restore Poland, the Grande Armée should have stopped there, at Smolensk. Not to go further east.

And Poniatowski, as a witness of the scene, count Ostrowski, recalled, “begged Napoleon on his knees if not to direct the whole French Army to the south, to the former Polish lands, then at least to separated the Polish corps and send it along the Dnieper river, in the direction of Kiev...”

But emperor was implacable.

What happened next we all know. The battle of Moscow, fire, retreat…

In December Napoleon left his army and speeded to Paris. Prince Józef returned to Warsaw, to rebuild “the Polish corps”, to reenforce the people left with new conscripts and to be ready to join with these people the emperor. When the latter comes with fresh forces, to fight the coalition back.

But the emperor of French didn’t hurry to return to the East of Europe. Failing to wait him Poniatowski had to leave Warsaw, going with his soldiers to Kraków. And was waiting here, for almost three month.

To no avail.

At the beginning of May all the territory of the Duchy of Warsaw, except Kraków, was occupied by Russians. A lot of Polish officers, acquaintances and even friends of prince Józef, resigned from the army. A lot of them were persuading the Polish commander-in-chief to follow, to join the anti-napoleonic coalition.

And… well, here I can’t write that Poniatowski rejected these propositions, all and at once. No, he was listening, thinking over… Asking for terms and thoroughly pondering on what would have been better for his motherland - to stay with France or not.

And on the night from the 6th to the 7th of May, on the eve of his 50th birthday the decision was made.

Prince Józef sees “the White Lady of the Poniatowski Family” on the night on 6/7 May 1813 in Krakow (drawing by Ludomir Ilinicz)

Having obtained no written guaranties from the other side, feeling that unconditional surrender - the only thing they were ready to accept from him - was not compatible with the soldier honor, the Polish Bayard decided to stay with Napoleon.

Although to make such a decision was for prince Józef extremely hard (especially if to take into account that he still had not got clear instructions from the emperor what to do). As Poniatowski confided next day to one of his colleagues that night thinking was so difficult to him that he even thought about shooting himself. Twice.

What is not proved - so this fact still stays a kind of legend - that that night prince Józef saw a ghost, the famous “White lady of Poniatowski family”. The fantom that was said to announce with its appearance very bad things to come…

And in 5 month there came… the battle of Leipzig.

Jean-Charles Langlois, The Battle of Leipzig (?)

This image is often signed as „the battle of Leipzig” though judging by the emperor’s, the prince’s and their horses’ poses I suppose it might be another version of “the battle of Smolensk”.

Of course, before Leipzig there was truce, then the battle of Dresden, then retreat and preparations. And in the beginning of the battle there was a moment when French victory still looked possible. But soon it turned out that it was an illusion.

And then the emperor… named general Poniatowski a marshal of France. Thus making him the only foreigner among that cream of French military elite.

Prince Józef Poniatowski receives the marshal baton, French engraving from the XIXth century

How did Poniatowski react to such a promotion? Did he become happy? Or, at least, glad?

No, not at all. (It looks like he felt that this appointment has more with his future attachment to France, than with military achievements.)

So prince Józef continued to call himself a general, sign documents according his old position. Furthermore, in the written explanation that Poniatowski sent to Warsaw it was stated that “if there was not war for Poland, no one would ever see him in uniform”. Which literally meant resignation. (In the very same letter, though, prince Józef announced that before leaving the army he had to escort Napoleon back to Paris.)

So, dear friends, who was interested in what might have happened with prince Józef had he not been killed at Leipzig - this is the answer. He would definitely retreat with Napoleon to Paris, than resigned and… here the certainty is a little bit less, but something tells me that he would have preferred exile to going back home. But I am not one hundred percent sure.

January Suchodolski, Napoleon and Józef Antoni Poniatowski at the Battle of Leipzig

And what about Napoleon? In his memories dictated on St. Helene he wrote that he should have made prince Józef the king of Poland (ha-ha, what would he have done if the latter rejected the crown?), regretted not doing this.

But what is, in my opinion, more interesting, is to learn what the ex-emperor thought on other Poniatowski-related topics? Did he regret blaming prince Józef for Jerome’s mistakes? Had he doubts on not listening the Polish commander’s pleas to take back former Polish land instead of going to Moscow?

Alas, I am afraid, this is a thing we’ll never know…

#józef poniatowski #napoleon #poniatowski #poniatowski and napoleon #charles maurice de talleyrand périgord

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dramioneasks · 3 years

Text

HP FESTS: Daily Dose of Death

Dramione Death Fest 2021:

Saints and Sinners by icepower55 - E, one-shot - You know, there’s never equity in a relationship; someone always cares more or loves more. And in my case, I’m here, and she’s gone.

Her Desperate Cure by Musyc - M, 6 chapters - Hermione is going to have a child. Whatever it takes, whatever she has to do, she will have a child. She refuses to accept anything less. She refuses to fail, no matter the cost.

elysium by another_lonely_writer - T, one-shot - In a world where a Lord has crowned himself King, the lines between Right and Wrong and Black and White blend into a dreary grey as Hermione Granger finds herself striking up a strange alliance with Draco Malfoy. “And what sets me apart from those beasts?” She places a gentle hand upon his chest, a light caress over the heart he loves to pretend doesn’t exist. Slowly, leaning over, resting her head on his shoulder, the steady beat undeniable proof to what she knows to be true. “You’re just as human as me.”

In Your Time of Dying by Modest_K - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy won't let Hermione die, not if he can help it. Even if it means the ultimate sacrifice, something more difficult to offer than his own death.

Escape by grace_lou_freebush - E, one-shot - When Hermione Granger is captured and brought to Malfoy Manor, Draco wiggles his way into the Dark Lord's good graces enough to become one of her guards. When the Dark Lord promises to give Hermione to his Death Eaters, Draco knows the only way for her to survive is to escape. Draco smiled sadly, drawing the back of a finger down her cheek. “I can’t stop seeing you like that.” His finger trailed down to trace one of the bruises on her neck. “These haven’t even healed yet. My mind comes up with a thousand ways you got them.” “Stop, Draco,” she said. “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done.” Draco stilled. “There was. There is.” Now was the time to tell her. “I’m going to get you out of here. Before the Dark Lord returns.”

Follow by dragonlywriting, raven_maiden - M, one-shot - “You promised me this was the end.” His voice was steady. “Whether we won or lost this one, you’d come with me this time. Leave everything behind.” In the midst of battle, Draco and Hermione share a quiet moment alone. Art and drabble collaboration for the Dramione Death Fest.

Too Late by monsterleadmehome - T, one-shot - Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.

To Love and To Lose by MidnightValkyrie - M, one-shot - It's in fairy tales, not war, that happy endings occur.

A Quota of Bad Luck by forgotten_traveler - M, 6 chapters - In his dreams, Draco took charge once the healer told them her diagnosis. He shoved aside his emotions and asked the valuable questions that he needed to know. His grip on Hermione’s hand assured her that everything would be okay. He even asked the one question that would cause the healer to have such a strong revelation about the illness that he would come up with a cure. When she needed him most, in his mind at least, he acted like a man. But that wasn’t what he did.

Tomorrow by Aneiria - T, one-shot - He would tell her tomorrow...

On the Alter of Ishtar by TJ_Dubs - M, one-shot - This is the house where things die. This is my home. Draco is home for Easter Holiday when the snatchers bring Saint Potter, the Weasel and the Mudblood to his house.

I’ve Never Felt Better by Canttouchthis - T, one-shot - Hermione says her final goodbye to Draco Malfoy.

Marjorie by Ash_ling_ook - T, one-shot - Part of the Dramione Death Fest 2021 Draco writes a letter to his late love, Hermione Granger and reflects on the events leading to their parting. ****** Your waste basket had three things in it. I don't know why I stared at it for so long. A crumpled envelope, a torn piece of parchment with writing on it...I don't know, potions ingredients maybe? And a dried up used tissue. It was stuck to the parchment. I had to rip it away from the parchment so I could keep those useless words. Your perfect penmanship. And fuck me, how I thought far too long about keeping that fucking dried up crusty scrap of tissue as well…

Regretfully Yours by storyofeden - M, one-shot - Draco knows who his soulmate is. Hermione will never find out.

Submit by LittleIvy - not rated, one-shot - It’s been six months since the Battle of Hogwarts. Bloody, brutal, victoryless. A long string of assassinations and espionage followed, shot through with bouts of guerrilla warfare and the quiet, insidious fear that someone could betray you at any moment, of their own volition or through force. I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting.

Freitod by oOMaryAliceOo - G, one-shot - Freitod: noun [ masculine ] /ˈfraitoːt/ The intended ending of one’s life, whether by an active action or passively by omitting life-sustaining measures such as the taking of vital drugs, food or liquids.

Belladonna by dramionetrash - not rated, one-shot - “You...you faked your death?!” He could only nod. He knew she must have hundreds of questions buzzing around her curious mind like a swarm of angry bees, and she looked stung. “How?” “You’ve read Romeo and Juliet?”

Red as the Dawn by JupiterAscending - G, one-shot - It has been 3 weeks since Hermione Granger died in a freak accident at Malfoy Manor. Consumed by his own grief, Draco blames himself for his beloved’s death, and gives in to the destruction devouring his mind.

A promise kept by Katria_Faeyero - T, one-shot - “You are my most precious treasure. And by tomorrow, by the end of the battle, you will be free. You will grow old, go to school. You will learn how to fly and how to create beautiful magic. You will make friends and then fall in love. You will graduate and follow a career that you like. And then you will marry, probably have your own children. You will be happy Scorpius. You will be free."

The Fallout by yanitaag - T, one-shot - Because nothing was like everybody thought. Those naïve, poor souls. Oblivious to everything happening around them or worse they were all refusing to acknowledge it. One day every bit of it came like a tidal wave for which they weren’t prepared. Even Draco who was helping the Order through Hermione left his guard down for a moment, this – this was his final and biggest mistake. He had been so careful but one final doing was his fallout.

The End of a War by taylormariexo - not rated, one-shot -Who deserves redemption in a war? Who deserves death as their fate? Hermione Granger believes those who deserve redemption should receive it, no matter what their past holds. Draco Malfoy doesn't believe he deserves redemption. Yet, who deserves to die in the end?

Two Lines by QueenieBlood - M, one-shot - loss /lɒs/ the fact or process of losing something or someone. •∆• In which Draco and Hermione experience the loss of something dearest to them.

Judgement by darkist_999 - T, one-shot - When the Ministry causes the death of Hermione Granger, every last bit of Draco Malfoy’s control is gone.

#dramione death fest #fests/exchanges/challenges #dramione #character death

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adamarinayu · 4 years

Text

Since I can��t draw right now (it’s like 1 AM) I decided I’d just write things down about Domestic DUno AU (I still don’t have a proper name for it!!) so here we go~

Info below the cut to spare the mobile users my ramblings~~

BACKSTORY STUFF

-Donald first became PK as a teenager (14 or 15), pulling petty pranks and avenging perceived wrongdoings. He ended up accidentally becoming a hero after stopping a thief and unknowingly saving a young girl’s life, and he realized he could direct his temper, anger and frustration not at making other people miserable, but at protecting others. Gyro, who went to school with Donald (Donald and Della attended a private school that would accommodate their adventure schedule; Gyro, being the absolute genius he is, attended on a scholarship) was there and ended up helping, being the one to inadvertently provide PK with the weapon he fended off the criminals with. PK talked to Gyro and the two became partners in crime-fighting that way.

-After deciding to become a hero, it was small-town villains mostly that he dealt with. Thieves, and the like. He didn’t start fighting mutants and those kinds of things until he was 17 or so, and the Evronians didn’t show up until he was 18. This is when Scrooge gave him a summer job at his newly acquired tower, figuring since Donald didn’t want to go with him and Della on a three-month adventure (as Donald was needed in Duckburg, he couldn’t be gone for three months!!) then he may as well work and earn a little money. As Duckworth was still alive, Duckworth was in charge of the manor, so Donald didn’t need to worry about upkeeping the mansion.

-Donald met Uno after a failed attempt to fight the Evronians, and they partnered up, with Uno providing Donald with otherworldly advanced tech that Gyro... would probably understand if given the time and chance (come on, he built a time machine out of a bathtub, he could totally understand future tech). After the first battle with the Evronians that Donald eventually wins, he realized that the game had just just 10x more dangerous. Between working on his doctorate and interning for Scrooge’s science department (something the scientists working for Scrooge were salty about), Gyro didn’t have much time to work on new and improved inventions for PK so when Uno contacted Gyro about him stepping down from helping PK, Gyro agreed, acknowledging that the mysterious Uno Ducklair would probably be a better benefactor for the hero. He didn’t know PK’s identity, though, so he didn’t take the memory erasing candy. Instead he focused on his work.

-Years passed this way, with Donald and Uno working together. Of course Donald had his other adventures, such as with Jose and Panchito and Mickey and all them lovely folks, but Uno was his closest confidante and biggest supporter. He was the one he vented his frustrations with Della and Scrooge to, and the one to give him advice on how to deal with it and talk to them about it all.

-At some point during this time, Gladstone finds out Donald is PK. Of course it happens in the typical Lucky way- him finding out saved Donald’s life. Gladstone is shaken up by the knowledge that his cousin/brother is in danger every day and has almost died multiple times. Gladstone becomes a sort of third member of the whole Crime Fighting thing, yep, you heard it right, Cloverleaf is real here. He figures if he’s out in the field with Donald, then Donald will never die because of Gladstone’s supernaturally good luck. Uno, while frustrated with Gladstone’s unpredictable and illogical luck, accepts this. Donald is less keen because he doesn’t want Gladstone in danger’s path but when the gander makes up his mind it’s made up, yo.

-PK and Cloverleaf (CL from here on out) and Uno work together for 3 years before the Spear of Selene incident, where Donald is suddenly left with three eggs. Donald’s priorities now shifted, he quits being a hero and buys the houseboat so he can raise the triplets without Scrooge’s influence. Gladstone does what he can to help while trying to continue to protect Duckburg, and while watching CL on the news Donald has the sudden realization that Duckburg still needs him- new parent or not. So he (metaphorically!!) throws the eggs into their pram, rushes to Ducklair Tower, begs Lyla to watch the eggs for him and rushes off to CL’s aid.

-After the danger is over, Donald collects the eggs, thanks Lyla for her help, then meets up with CL and Uno on the 151st floor where they have a serious conversation. Donald acknowledges that Duckburg still needs PK, but Della’s children also need him. The three eventually come to the conclusion that the kids would be raised by PK and Uno there in the Tower, where they would be safe- and they would be trained so they’re ready for anything thrown at them. (Gladstone is actually the one who is like “nah cuz you be their dad I’m not cut out for that, I’ll be the cool uncle, I don’t wanna live in the tower! No offense Uno” so it isn’t like Donald just decided to leave him out of the parenting)

-The eggs hatch and Donald names them sensible (AKA not Della’s list) names (and pronounces Llewellyn correctly dammit) and Donald and Uno have a time learning hands-on how to be parents. (“I’ve read twenty different parenting guides in the last five seconds and they’re all saying different things, Donald, WHAT DO WE DO-”) The whole “raising kids together” thing brings them even closer than before and forces them to have a chat about their feelings, too.

-When the triplets are small and starting to run around, Uno baby proofs everything. He has a hard time keeping them from escaping their playpen (which is essentially a huge room with an amazing view of the city, he doesn’t know why they’re so intent on escaping). Then eventually the inevitable happens- both Don and Glad end up stuck on the other side of the world for nearly a whole month, and Uno realizes taking care of three toddlers is much easier when you have a body. So while they’re gone, he balances his time between advising them on their mission, taking care of the triplets and building an android body that can handle an AI as advanced as him (throw out that “an AI who is only good could never make a full person” shit cuz Uno can be petty as hell, he’s a whole ass person even without Due yo). By the time Don and Glad get back he’s testing his prototype. Donald is thrilled, of course- his boyfriend has a body now!

-The triplets gain a sister! Everett brings a child to them one day, a little Coronan girl who was for reasons I haven’t decided yet cast out of her family and Everett, with his weird Enlightened Powers shit, went and found her and brought her back to the people he knew would take care of her well (considering his own past failures...). And so the triplets have a little sister who is an alien! Yee! Yes it’s Asveya (Ve). She came to them when she was ~2 and the triplets were 3 or 4, and as she didn’t have a name Donald named her after a friend he met as a child, when he regularly adventured with Scrooge and Della, and whom he ended up meeting again as a young adult.

-Uno perfects the body over time as he learns more things about being a person (he very purposefully leaves out pain receptors, though he includes the best parts of being a physical person ofc- he wants his cake and he wants to eat it too!). Everett decides now that Uno has a body, it was time to introduce him as his son officially and hand the business over to him (stating that it’ll be good for the kids if at least one of their parents had a proper job and income, since savings don’t last forever), and as the kids get older Donald begins training them so they’ll be able to take care of/protect themselves if need be. Uno creates a training field/obstacle course that is fun and age-appropriate, and by the time they’re ten they’re like little superheroes in training. They can give Webby a run for her money. Ve is less interested in being like PK and more interested in being like Uno- AKA the techie behind the gadgets.

-The triplets are already playing with some rudimentary pieces of tech Ve made, playing like they’re superheroes (or villains, gotta have someone to fight!). Uno finds out when he reviews the Tower footage and immediately confiscates anything that can be dangerous, but lets them keep the more innocent stuff.

MODERN DAY STUFF (AKA the time the show takes place)

-As the kids got older Donald and Uno allowed them more freedom, even letting them go out on their own (with the promise of being back before dark, not telling anyone what their parents did for a living, they all stuck together and they didn’t speak to strangers beyond what was necessary). When the triplets were 10 and Ve was 8 or 9, Uno learned that a powerful artifact (not the gem) was in Atlantis and that if a villain got their hands on it, it would be... very bad. So Donald decides it’s time to put on his metaphorical adventure shoes again and go get it. By this time Gladstone got trapped in the casino (Uno has been looking for him, after not hearing from him for over a week) and Uno had a Big Business thing to attend, real important too, so they talk about getting a babysitter for the weekend they’ll be gone. The kids manage to convince them they don’t need one, as they’ll be safe in the 151st floor (“We’ll be safer there than anywhere else, right, Uncle Uno?”). Donald tried to call Lyla but she was unfortunately in the field, so he agreed to let them stay home on their own until Uno got back (Uno did the math and figured he could stay for a few hours to just make a good faith appearance, talk business with some stooges and then come home the same day).

-Of course, the kids get caught. Uno had already left out for his business thing at like 5 AM, and Donald was about to head out to Atlantis in one of the Duckmobiles. He happened to check on a whim the back of the mobile, where he found his surprised ducklings staring wide-eyed up at him. He knew then that he needed to cash in on a favour- he called Beakley and then drove the protesting children to the mansion. (“Come on, Unca’ Donald!” “It’s a mansion! We wanna go to the lost city, too!” “Come on, we’ve been doing real good in training!” “Please, dad? We promise we’ll listen!”) The excitement over meeting THE Scrooge McDuck is overshadowed by the disappointment that they can’t go on this mission.

-Besides, who cares about a mansion and a rich adventuring duck when your parents and uncle are not only rich adventurers, but they’re also superheroes???

-Donald gives them a forehead kiss goodbye and heads off, and Scrooge has Beakley put the kids in that old room. “It’ll only be a few hours” they said. “Until Uno gets back.” Unfortunately, Uno calls Louie and tells the duckling there’s been a problem and he won’t be back until later- Donald already informed him of the changed arrangements and he’s already contacted Beakley.

-The kids decide to escape the old room, putting their hero training into action, but are ultimately swept up into Webby’s trap. Webby is super excited to meet them when she realizes who they are (though she has no idea who Ve is), and she cuts them down from the net without them having to escape themselves. The kids know they’re not supposed to let anyone know about the “hero family” thing so try to act like normal kids, though it becomes apparent Webby doesn’t know how to be a normal kid either.

-Through shenanigans, the children inspire Scrooge to adventure again, and Dewey lets slip about lost cities and Scrooge has a moment of realization. Thus, he drags the kids to Atlantis with him. While there, the kids each get a chance to show off their moves (which they’re SUPPOSED TO HIDE but you know, when arrows are flying at you ain’t got no time to hide). Donald is pissed when he notices them in Atlantis, and Uno is pissed when he calls Donald and learns the kids are in Atlantis, right where they are NOT supposed to be.

-Things pretty much follow the episode, though with the triplets able to hold their own and Donald gunning for a completely different artifact. When they escape and get back to the surface with their respective artifacts, they’re met by a livid android who absolutely chews Scrooge out for dragging four ten year olds and an eight year old to a dangerous place like that.

-Donald decides that it might be okay for the kids to visit with Scrooge sometimes, to get a little real-world experience, and at precisely that moment something crashes into the 151st floor of Ducklair Tower. Uno is absolutely furious (“MY TOWER???”) cuz that’s gonna take a bit to fix- at the very least it’ll appear to take a while- and when the kids question “what now?” Scrooge offers up some rooms in the mansion. The kids are excited cuz they’ll get to live with Webby and explore a new place. Donald and Uno say “just until the tower is fixed” (Gladstone had Donald’s boat at the time he went missing so Donald doesn’t have it) which is good enough for the kids.

-Scrooge being sus of Uno for like a whole arc cuz he’d never heard of Uno Ducklair before recently and also his nephew?? got married???

-Gladstone finally gets a message out to Don and Uno for help, and they go immediately- but not before Scrooge makes it a family adventure. Scrooge is disparaging of Gladstone, but Donald is just worried about his cousin. They manage to save Gladstone without pseudo-sacrificing anyone. Scrooge gets a little sus when they get back to Duckburg, and days later the missing Cloverleaf has shown up again.

-HDLV ended up spilling the truth to Webby as she got closer with them, but they swore her to secrecy. Of course Beakley found out because Webby is a terrible liar.

**So basically Donald + Uno parents, a kid that calls them her dads, good Uncle Gladstone, Brotherly Gladstone + Donald, Competent Cloverleaf, PK + Cloverleaf teamup, little-hero triplets. Gyro will end up teaming up with Gizmoduck when Fenton takes up heroing, too, just like Launchpad teams up with DW (DW’s story for this AU will be different, also, just a heads up) and basically all their combined kids become a badass team of children (Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Ve, Boyd, Gos, and of course Lena and Violet join in later...) Gyro teams up with Gizmoduck because every hero needs a tech guy (even heroes who are also scientists....) and he’s not only very capable, he’s worked with a hero before so he knows the ins and outs :D

However it is now 2 AM and I need to sleep so I’m gonna end my musings here but I am thinking of them so much right now I’m

#Domestic DUno AU #I still need a proper title for it #DT17 AU #PK AU #DUno #I miiiight add some Drakepad and Fenro.......#I'm a sucker for hero/sidekick pairings #Also featuring science family!#I like Gandra I really do but the hero/sidekick mannn #I mean Fenton had two hands so maybe.................

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twiistedgalaxies · 4 years

Text

Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

“Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

Geralt blinked, “What?” This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

“...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill.

“I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

“Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

“Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

“The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

“Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius.

He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain.

Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him.

A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

“Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade.

Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

“Hm?”

“I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

“She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

“Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

“You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

“I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

“It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

“Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

“No,” Geralt said resolutely.

“Huh?”

“I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

#The Witcher #The Witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #ao3 #ff.net #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher!jaskier #feral jaskier #yennefer #dandelion #netflix #non-human jaskier

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Text

These Violent Delights ||Alec Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 3 of a request for @tiger-khans-blog

Part 1 - Obsession Part 2 - When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. is triggering to you, do not read this fic.

This fic in particular contains graphic descriptions of violence and injury further down.

Words: 5543

Summary: With no idea what is and isn’t real anymore you’re beginning to lose your mind and suspect your loving mate isn’t all he seems to be. Desperate for some semblance of sanity you try one last time to clear your head, and the consequences are dire.

Demetri had suspected that there was something more going on beyond the surface. Y/N Swan was quite a sweet little thing and he had missed her greatly, but he respected her decision – as had Felix – to create some distance between them so she could learn to get along with Alec. Now Demetri was wondering if she’d ever made that decision at all. With increasing frequency Alec had burst into his room or the throne room with the declaration you were missing, and Demetri had immediately put his gift to good use. In almost all the situations Demetri had prepared for the worst, perhaps he’d find you kidnapped or injured somewhere after an outing gone wrong? But every time he’d found you you had been perfectly fine and dreadfully confused as to why he was there at all.

You were always doing quite mundane things. He didn’t even need to track you half the time to tell Alec you were at that little café whose pastries you adored. Sometimes you ventured further out, wanting to see the leaves changing colour in autumn in the park nearby. Other times you were literally right on their doorstep, drawing on the edge of the fountain. On those occasions Demetri stayed with you, letting you have a few minutes more of freedom, because he had started to notice a disturbing pattern – every time he found you you looked more and more lost. You had adamantly refused to accept Alec had not seen your note the first few times, but the doubt slowly crept in until you were entirely unsure of what you had or hadn’t done. Alec was never violent upon your reunion, playing the part of the concerned mate perfectly. He was always so relieved to have you back, but the boy seemed oblivious that you were obviously suffering.

You had lost that spark you used to have in your eyes, and your posture had become more slumped over. You were meeker, agreeing to whatever was put forward to you without question more often than not. Demetri was sure he could tell you the sky was purple and you’d whole heartedly agree, even if the blue was staring you right in the face. Your withdrawn personality didn’t seem to trouble Alec but it bothered him greatly. He wasn’t sure how it had happened but you were a shell of your former self, an anxious, meek little thing who looked nowhere near as happy as she should given she had found her mate. He had caught you in the kitchen once, tired from a day of studying Italian with Marcus as you had become want to do, berating yourself for dropping a pan on your toes while cooking. To say he was surprised to hear your cursing your ‘clumsy human hands’ was an understatement.

No, no Demetri was beyond suspicious, especially when you began to go ‘missing’ more frequently, looking more and more desperate each time he found you further and further out. You had fought him the last time he found you, pounding against his chest and begging him to not take you back. His concern had brought him in all good faith to Alec’s door while you slept one night.

“What can I do for you?” Alec asked, head tilting curiously. Demetri frowned.

“It’s about Y/N. I have some concerns, Alec.” He answered. Alec’s frown immediately depeened, his eyes growing darker.

“What concerns? Is she sick? She seemed fine when I left her to sleep.”

“No, no nothing like that, though I fear her mind may not be healthy. She seems…anxious, desperate to be out of the castle. Is there something going on Alec?” he asked. Alec’s already dark eyes turned black, the red leeching out of his irises so fast Demetri was almost shocked. His expression was cold as an arctic wind and his voice held little room for argument when he answered him.

“That is of no concern to you, she’s shared her worries with me already. You overstep Demetri, she’s my mate and I’ll care for her how I see fit.”

“I simply want to know if there is anything I can do to help. It’s no secret we care for the girl to Alec, let us help.” He frowned.

“What she needs from you, Demetri, is to be left the hell alone. Stop filling her head with poison. I know you talk at the fountain. She’s upset because you suggested she might be allowed to visit her family one day. They haven’t written to her in months, the false hope crushed her. Leave my mate to me and stop poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He snarled quietly. Demetri hissed quietly, his irritation flaring.

“What are you talking about? A letter arrived for her Tuesday gone.” He received a door to his face as his answer, the wood actually splintering a little with the force Alec slammed it with. He knew you had been getting letters frequently from the Cullen’s and your sister, he had seen some of them when the secretary was sorting the mail out, so why hadn’t you been getting them? If you were in such a deep spiral surely it was a contributing factor. The only thing he could think of was that the secretary hadn’t delivered them. But why? he flitted straight to her desk without another moment to spare, finding her packing up to leave for the evening. She jumped at his sudden appearance.

“Demetri, I didn’t see you there, how can I help you?” she was a new girl, the fourth one in the past two months, and he didn’t care to remember her name. His head tilted.

“You received a letter the other day for Y/N Swan did you not?” he questioned, leaning against her desk. She frowned, nodding.

“I did, I gave it to Alec to deliver, did it not reach her?” she asked, looking somewhat anxious now. Demetri paused, letting his mind work it over. So, Alec had been supposed to deliver that had he? How many more had he gotten his grubby little hands on? Demetri felt a quiet sense of horror dawn on him. It made a lot more sense suddenly, why you weren’t getting any of your family’s letters. Alec had taken them all to keep you from getting in touch with them. Was your silence towards himself and Felix the same? Orchestrated by Alec so not even you knew the real reason the three of you no longer spoke?

“Not on this occasion. Not to worry, thank you for your help, sweet thing.” He shot her a charming smile to mask his sudden anxiety and disappeared as quickly as he came, heading straight for the throne room. Maybe you hadn’t been going mad at all, maybe Alec was the one driving you insane…

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Caius growled, beyond annoyed with the way he had flung the door open in his haste. Demetri grimaced.

“My apologies Masters, but I need to talk to you urgently.”

You had to get out this time. The walls of old buildings scraped at your hands as you bolted down one alleyway after the next, swinging around corners and doing your best to stay upright as the cobblestones did their best to trip you. You couldn’t take it anymore. Your anxiety was at an all time high, panic attacks in the morning a common thing as you dreaded the day ahead – another day of disappointing Alec in all your human imperfection. There was no one you could turn to for comfort either, not with Demetri so busy all the time. He was less of a friend and more of a guard, dragging you back each time you left as Alec had promised you his duty as a guard entailed. The worst part was that you knew your feelings of inadequacy were completely unnecessary because you weren’t the one in the wrong, Alec was.

It had become more and more obvious he wasn’t letting you leave the castle, and sneaking out when you could became your one chance to see sunlight, to have any sort of freedom. When you’d tried to ask him about it he’d brushed you off again, telling you you were being silly and reminding you of all the times he’d taken you out to the Gardens, all the gifts you’d been given as apologies for missed opportunities to venture out into the world…but he’d been lying as long as you’d known him. Maybe he had learned to control his urges, but not his darkest impulses. Alec had wanted you all to himself and he had managed to succeed with his lies and deceit. It had been a complete accident, when you came across the mountain of lies he’d told. You had been waiting to surprise him (having stayed up to wait for him to finish his guard shift) when you spilt a glass of apple juice down your shirt. His closet was the closest place to find a replacement and it would hardly be the first time you’d taken a shirt of his.

The shrine in his closet was just too much.

Everything that had gone missing lay at an alter dedicated to you. Tears blurred your vision as the flash of ivory and familiar, scribbly writing permeated your mind once more. Letters – Bella’s letters. Your sister had never forgotten you. Alec had simply made you think she had. You had been right all along, the bundled-up letters proved as such, he had always been a monster. Selfish and ugly all the way to the core, Alec Volturi had never been your Prince Charming. How many other lies had he told? He’d isolated you until all you had was him, till you relied on him to get you through your day. No more. You tripped over your own feet, vision blurred by tears. The ground rushed up to meet you, a sharp sting ripping through your knee as you cried out, catching yourself with your hands before you could smash your face into the stone. Gasping for air, you tried desperately to fill your lungs, the rising hysteria making it difficult to steady your breathing. What if you couldn’t escape? Demetri always found you and he’d drag you back there, you knew he would. He couldn’t be allowed to find you, not this time, you had to keep moving and –

“Signorina?”

Your head snapped up, body scrambling to right itself despite the deep throbbing in your knee. A young man not too much older than yourself was slowly coming towards you, hands raised and expression concerned. He had a sort of roguish charm about him, tousled dark hair and equally as dark eyes (too lose to Alec’s angry onyx to be of any comfort) set in a tanned face. He had more colour to his skin than Alec could ever hope to have. With the sleeves of a plain white shirt rolled up to his elbows, top buttons undone and smart pants on, he must have been coming home from a shift as a waiter perhaps, maybe a barista in one of the fancier coffee houses in town, but you didn’t trust him at all. How could you trust anyone when the one person you had relied on had been a lying, manipulative, deceitful little –

“S-stay back.” You stammered, scrambling to get to your feet now. The tear in your skin oozed fresh blood, dampening your skin and making you whimper. It wasn’t that it hurt necessarily, though it did sting terribly, it was more the fear that you knew what lurked in the shadows of Volterra and if anyone smelled that…well, Demetri was a hundred times more likely to find you now, wasn’t he?

“I don’t mean you any…erm…ah…hurt?” he tried, his accent thick and his English clearly not at the level of fluency. If you were in a better state of mind you’d be at least grateful he tried, however he was still approaching you and you didn’t enjoy his proximity when you needed to move. You had to keep going, had to get to a bus stop or a train station, something! Was there even a place like that in Volterra? There had to be right? You took a step away from him, your leg failing you so you half fell, half limped forward. His arms were around you in an instant and you screamed, wriggling desperately to fight him off.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Merda! Smettila di lottare!” (Shit! Stop fighting!) he cursed, tightening his grip on you. Legs flailing, you threw your head back in a desperate attempt to get him to let go, your skull protesting as bone crunched beneath it. His arms dropped and you darted forward, only for your knee to give way once more. With another loud curse the boy was on-top of you then, glancing around wildly to see if anyone had noticed your scuffle yet. His weight atop you was almost suffocating given how much trouble you had already had breathing, and tears filled your eyes as you wriggled to try and be free of him.

“Get off of me! Help!” you screamed. Blood dripped from his nose onto your cheeks, hot and thick and oozing slowly down your cheek. “Stop it!” Strong hands encircled your wrists, pinning them harshly to the stone beneath you. It dug into your spine uncomfortably and it became very clear very quickly you were not escaping this boy.

“Stop!” he snapped, muttering a few choice words in Italian you had heard Felix use once or twice. His expression was contorted into a mask of pain, his nose swollen but not broken and his body holding tight to your own to keep you from moving. Your struggling was only serving to make you brush against him though, and it was clear the effect it was having on him was not helping him decide to let you go. If you had been in your right mind, you would have understood this boy was only trying to help, stop you moving to ensure you didn’t hurt yourself further, but in the moment your reality was warped and far too terrifying for you to see sense.

“Fuoco! Fuoco!” (Fire! Fire!) Your father had always taught you to tell fire rather than help, it attracted more attention he said. You didn’t attract the kind of attention you wanted. The boy was thrown off of you in a blur of movement, his body smashing into the brickwork of the house across from you. You heard the bones shattering, his ear-piercing scream ringing in your ears as a black cloak obscured his attacker. With or without the cloak you knew who it was, the smaller, lean stature, the ferocity with which he tore into his victim. You whimpered, eyes turning away from the poor boy. There was no way to help him now, not when Alec was busy popping his bones through his skin like one might spear a sausage with a cocktail stick at a party. Rolling to your front, you tried desperately to get your trembling limbs to cooperate, your hysterical screaming echoing off of the walls.

You had barely limped three steps when the screeching behind you abruptly cut away into a gurgling sound. Ice cold hands found your shoulders and you whirled desperately to try and fend Alec off, only to freeze at the sight of the poor, mangled boy behind you. His actions may not have been good, but he didn’t deserve to be folded in on himself like a human pretzel, bones poking out of his skin and blood gushing from an open wound on his throat. He was drowning in crimson, choked by the same saccharine liquid Alec was licking off of his thumb now, onyx eyes boring into your own with his usual apathetic expression hiding the pure mania in his eyes.

He hadn’t even fed, he’d killed the boy for sport.

“See what happens when you go out alone little human?” he asked. The bile rose in your throat too quickly to stop it and Alec obligingly held your hair as you turned to the side and threw up at your feet, hot acid burning the back of your throat and stomach churning violently. Panting, you kept your wide-eyed stare fixed on the cobblestones. Even then it wasn’t enough, a trail of blood slowly seeping its way towards you, descending downhill like some morbid snake writhing between the stones. You couldn’t keep the tears away this time as Alec’s breath, metallic with the scent of another man’s blood, sent a wave of dizziness over you.

“P-please…please d-don’t…I can’t…” your head spun, too many thoughts and feelings crashing and colliding and rendering you a stammering mess before you finally grew mute, your body growing cold. Alec held you tenderly, like you were the only thing in the world to him that mattered, his embrace as soft as cotton but cold, as though death itself had shrouded you. In the distant parts of your mind you recognised he was talking to you, but you didn’t dare listen. He was the serpent that tempted Eve, a voice of velvet spinning spider webs to ensnare you. Dimly, you noted that the boy’s blood was running past your toes now.

Was this how it ended for you? Had Alec finally had enough of your obedience training? Clearly it hadn’t worked. You felt filthy to the core for enjoying his embrace, but his arms were strong and held you when your legs couldn’t anymore, his honeyed words a balm to your aching soul, promising his own brand of everlasting love - the same brand he’d gotten you hopelessly addicted to. Even his scent made your head swim, fresh linen that should be so crisp and clear, refreshing, just drowned you further. Nobody would come for you now. Alec had finally gotten you in his grasp just as he wanted and you were far, far too tainted for anyone to save. The wounds his love had inflicted too deep, festering and rotting you from the inside out, and the worst part was, you had let it happen.

You had accepted every kind word, every smile, every present, every touch, as a gift bestowed on you that you were unworthy of. So blinded by the dazzling display of redemption were you you hadn’t seen beyond the surface of the superficial affection he laid at your feet, too enamoured with all he had become to see the old monster lingering in every smile and darkening of his eyes. Alec had never changed, he had simply wore you down, so when his frozen fingers pushed your jaw upward and to the left you didn’t fight, because deep down you knew you’d never stood a chance.

“It’s alright Y/N, you’re only human,” he whispered, “You can be forgiven for that…”

“How?” your voice cracked. Forgiveness seemed impossible. If Bella or your father or anyone you loved could see you now you knew forgiveness would not be the word on their lips. How could you be forgiven for letting yourself fall so far? How could you be forgiven for being the reason that poor boy didn’t go home tonight? He had chosen to try and help you and it had only gotten him brutally murdered. The only thing Alec had ever been right about was that you were only human. None of the terrible things that had happened to you or anyone surrounding you were your fault. The blame lay solely at Alec’s feet.

“By acknowledging your flaws and becoming something more.”

Somehow, despite all the evidence before you, you really hadn’t expected him to bite down. Some part of you still thought he was above that maybe. It was like lava pouring straight from his mouth into your veins, filling your wound until it spilled over and shot down your arms, through your torso, scorching your nerve endings. It spread rapidly and you couldn’t bite back the bloodcurdling scream that left you. Alec held you tight as your body jerked, trying to escape the inescapable, the agony was all internal, a fire consuming you from the inside out.

“Alec! Alec what did you do!”

“What I had to to protect my mate!”

“Good god Alec…”

“Look at this mess.” The voices were indistinguishable, heightened and then muted, blending and yet distinctive. Your vision was too blurred to figure out the faces behind the cloaks swarming you, ripping you from one cold embrace to the next. Everything was too hot and you couldn’t escape it, no way to tear yourself out of your own body as it was flooded with acid.

“Shhhh, shhh little human.”

“Demetri get her out of here before she draws attention to this scene.”

“D-D-De-“ you barely got half of his name out before another scream broke through your throat. You didn’t have the strength to hold it back, couldn’t feel the grip your friend had on you. The world was slipping away inch by inch as you drowned in a pool of molten fire, the surface disappearing and taking you with it. Maybe this was hell? Maybe your weakness had earned you a spot in eternal fire and torment and this was only the beginning of a very long forever?

“Just give in Y/N, let go, just let go.” Somewhere through the pain you were sure Demetri had said this to you, and you battered heart didn’t know how to take it. It beat erratically, every frantic thud hoping beyond hope it would take you closer to a reunion with Bella, with the Cullen’s, with anyone you held dear. Did Demetri just want you to fall unconscious or did he mean you to really let go? What did you have to wake up for in Volterra after all? Alec would never let you leave, that much was clear now. You tried to hold onto these thoughts, really debate them and use them to ground you and keep you there, but they scattered like ash with the rest of you as the fire built to a raging inferno and melted everything you ever were.

The intense agony was all you knew now. What else could you do? Trapped in your head your only option was to count the seconds between one wave and the next, each drowning bout of flame lapping at your soul, disintegrating who you were piece by piece. By the time the fire had started to recede you weren’t sure how much time had passed, if time even had meaning. You were amazed your heart had held out under the assault of venom. It started at your extremities, like something in your chest was winching the fire back in, but as the sweet and numbing relief of the cold crept in at your toes the fire in your heart burned hotter. A grunting sound was the first thing you’d heard beyond the screaming in your head for a while, and you realised it was you, desperately fighting back the cry building in your throat as the white hot core in your chest blazed through the last of your humanity.

By the time you slumped back down, your consciousness drifting back to you slowly, you were struggling to remember how you had gotten in this predicament in the first place. Where were you? Who was around you? You wanted Bella, oh you wanted your sister so badly. The air around you felt heavier on your skin, saturated with sharp scents that overpowered your nose and made your tongue tingle when you opened your mouth for that first gasp of air. Your eyes were next to snap open, immediately focusing on the cracks in the wooden beams and the stone ceiling, the dust mites floating in the air. There was an assault of noise next, voices chattering and laughing, birds twittering, cars honking and more, so much more. Hands flying up to your ears, you noticed how it felt different to move, more fluid somehow, and the bright shine in the corner of your eye mad you sit up and move your hand back towards the light.

It glittered. Your hand was crystal, reflecting light and throwing it against the walls where it shattered into rainbow patterns, dazzling your too focused eyes.

“Y/N?”

Danger. Danger danger danger danger danger –

“Felix, give her time…it’s alright young one, we are not here to harm you.” Another foreign voice. You moved so fast everything should have blurred, your body twisting and turning agilely as you shot off of the soft mattress and hit the hard wall with crushing force, stone chipping and falling around you while you dug your nails into the natural rock of the wall. The noise that ripped from your throat was threatening, air rushing up from your lungs and pushing out between your teeth. It shocked you enough to make you freeze, brain scrambling to catch up because there was no way that noise had come from you. Wait, who were you again? Who were they? The voices seemed familiar, but different, their faces to. The men were beautiful in a way nobody should ever be allowed to be, the flawless planes of their faces also reflecting diamond light across the walls as one slowly crept closer to you. Another hiss of air escaped your throat, warning him to stay back.

“Now who needs to give her time.” Felix, that’s what he’d called him…Felix! Your mind dredged up the murky images on demand, and you couldn’t help but frown as you tried to clear the image in your head. It was like watching the memories flow through dirty water, Felix and Demetri helping decorate your room with you, avoiding you in the corridors, no longer talking to you because Alec –

Alec!

“No.” you whispered, startled again into standing up straight, hand flying to your throat as a foreign, bell-like voice rang out. Demetri paused, letting your wild eyes take in the room.

“He is not here Y/N, the Masters’ are punishing him for his…indiscretion, by making him miss your awakening.” Felix chose his words carefully as Demetri slowly continued forward. It was so hard to focus, so much noise, so much to see, so many thoughts spinning rapidly through your mind. It worked faster now, you noticed, your brain working at top speed in a way you knew you’d only achieve with a substantial amount of caffeine if you were still human. Thoughts of Alec consumed you. Where was he? What had become of the boy he had murdered? Would he be kinder to you now you were no longer human? No longer imperfect…

“Y/N, try to focus, I know there is a lot to process right now.” Demetri sounded apologetic almost and your eyes snapped to him.

“I want to go home.” You whispered. Even as you said the words there was an uncomfortable tug in your gut, like something sharp had nicked at your intestines almost. The idea made you uncomfortable.

“What you need right now is to feed.” Demetri amended, his hand gentle on your arm. His words started an inferno in your throat. It was like the worst sore throat you’d ever had multiplied ad infinitum, the burn scorching from top to bottom while your gut twisted horribly. You weren’t just hungry, you were starving.

“Of course that’s what she needs, what newborn doesn’t?” the voice was smooth, so hypnotic you couldn’t help but relax, silently pleading to hear more. If your blood hadn’t already frozen over, you swore it would have upon seeing Alec again. He held what you assumed was the secretary in his arms, given her smart attire, but it was difficult to focus on little else other than the thrumming of her pulse, the tattoo in your brain even more hypnotising than his voice had been. Neither Demetri nor Felix could catch you as you dipped beneath their arms and snatched the body straight out of Alec’s hands, desperate to stop the burning in your throat.

“Y/N don’t!” Demetri’s voice sounded far off, almost like you were listening to him through cotton wool. The sound of blood flowing, a heart thumping…it was far far louder. Your body moved on autopilot, teeth clamping onto soft flesh. After that first burst of sweet, hot blood, your mind went completely blank. The taste was sublime, so intense on your tastebuds like nothing else had ever been. It soothed the fire in your throat some, a torrent of red dousing the flames and soaking your skin. When you could no longer take mouthfuls of the saccharine substance, a needy whine bubbled up in your throat, the tap running dry far too soon for your liking. Your throat still itched.

“Shhhhhh, I know, I know. Do not worry my love, we’ll find you more.” That voice, that hypnotic voice…with the fire in your throat calmed somewhat it was clearer in your ears, helping to ease your desperation and focus your mind some. The fingers in your hair were gentle, the occasionally brush of their skin against yours warm and inviting. You leaned into the tender touch gratefully. There was a scent too, the most intoxicating, fresh linen and pine scent, a hint of something smoky lingering underneath. Inhaling deeply, you let strong arms pull you into a firm chest, taking in lungfulls of that heady scent and letting your turbulent thoughts calm to the rhythm of the fingers running through your hair.

“Alec…”

You gasped slightly, eyes snapping open from your half-lidded gaze. The name had filled you with fear, trepidation, but the sensations surrounding you right now…you were in a safe, hazy little bubble, it was difficult to feel the fear you thought you should. You had totally forgotten he was even in the room and it was no small shock to you that he was the one holding you, that he had created this internal sense of tranquillity you were drowning in.

“I will not let my mate starve, the Masters’ and their punishment be damned.” The smooth bass of a sprightly young voice that filtered in your ears was so similar yet so different. Alec’s voice was nothing short of mesmerising and when you looked up at him his face was just as distracting. Smooth, flawless skin, pale as the moonlight on ocean waves, stretched like an unblemished canvas across high cheekbones and a strong jaw. You could trace the perfect curve of dark eyebrows with your finger, run your hands through the soft tresses of dark hair that framed his face and brushed his eyes. Crimson red eyes peered into your own, softened by adoration and desire.

It was as if your very heart burst forth from your chest to reach out to his. You never wanted anyone else to look at you the way Alec did. Suddenly, nothing he did had mattered, because you were the imperfect one before. This man before you…you saw it now with your new eyes, saw his God-like status for what it really was. You had been unworthy until now. He had elevated you to the same status, was able to love you deeply now.

“Alec.” You breathed his name like it was a quiet prayer. His fingers moved from your hair to your jaw, slowly tracing over your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Welcome back. You are…you’re breath taking.” He gently lowered his forehead to yours and you pushed back lightly, desperate to envelop yourself in the warmth his skin now radiated.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Of course.” Alec promised. You closed your eyes, drowning in his heavenly scent.

“Y/N…you’ll need to feed some more. Perhaps we can then contact the Cullen’s and see about getting you home. We don’t usually allow newborns to stay in the castle.” Demetri spoke up finally, shattering the peaceful quiet surrounding you. That pinching sensation in your gut was back again, your eyes widening. Alec had finally accepted you! You were finally good enough and Demetri just wanted to – to send you away? No. No absolutely not. Any thoughts of going home that you had once entertained were long gone. You couldn’t leave now, not when you had to show Alec how grateful you were, how you were better now like this.

“Do I have to go?” you whispered. Alec shook his head.

“Of course not Y/N, your place is here, with me.” His lips were so soft on your own, a shiver rolling down your spine at the rightness of it. He was your perfect fit. You were made for all of his light and dark, to bear the brunt of his best and worst. You hadn’t been before, but you were ready now, ready to survive his obsession.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

And in the taste confounds the appetite.

Therefore love moderately. Long love doth so.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Friar Lawrence, Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 6, by William Shakespeare

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #demetri volturi #felix volturi #dark themes #obsession #request

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harley-sunday · 4 years

Text

Encore [03]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: Language. NSFW

Word count: 10.3k

AN: This chapter has everything: angst, swooning, smut, you name it. Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

“Hi, Nic,” you answer your phone with a faint smile, wedging it between your ear and your shoulder so you have both hands free to drain the pasta that has just finished cooking.

“Ok, I did something and you’re not going to like it, but-”

“Nicole,” you warn her, because even though you’re not sure what she’s talking about it doesn’t sound too promising.

“Just hear me out, ok?”

You grab the glass of wine you poured yourself earlier and sit down at the kitchen table, “Fine.”

“So I went to go see Chris after you left yesterday and-”

“Nicole,” you draw out, pinching the bridge of your nose, your elbows resting on the table, “what did you do?”

“I gave him your letters,” she says matter-of-factly. “He needs to know.”

“I can’t-”

“It’s been eighteen years, babe,” she cuts in, “and I’m not gonna let you two waste another minute.”

“You had no right,” your voice comes out barely above a whisper, the betrayal caused by your best friend weighing heavy on your, well, everything. You can hear she’s still talking but you hang up anyway, not interested in whatever excuse she comes up with to justify her actions.

Your phone rings again, Nicole’s name flashing on your screen, but you decline the call, the hurt slowly turning into anger and so you empty your glass of wine rather aggressively before you decide you need something stronger. Might as well get the whiskey out, you reason, and so not much later you find yourself on the couch, your half-finished dinner long forgotten, nursing a whiskey and taking a rather painful trip down memory lane.

After you left Sudbury you found a job as a waitress at a diner in Boston somewhere and you were determined to leave the past behind you, taking on every available shift to keep yourself busy. It felt like you actually had your life together for about six months, but then ‘Not Another Teen Movie’ came out and suddenly Chris was everywhere and you had a rather embarrassing breakdown over it at work. Your boss, bless him, understood you needed something more than just a shoulder to cry on and referred you to a therapist who had helped his daughter after a particularly nasty divorce not too long ago.

In the end it was Dr Lipinski who suggested writing letters rather than keeping a diary, because as he told you, the act of writing down your thoughts and feelings and then sending them to your person of choice, would offer you a sense of closure. You chose to send them to Nicole, mostly because, well, you missed your best friend terribly, but also because she was there for most of what happened while you were dating Chris and so she knew your history.

She didn’t reply until after the third or fourth letter, when she wrote to you and told you how hurt she was after you left. You were a little taken aback by her blunt reply but your therapist used her letter to make you understand that when you left Sudbury, you also left Nicole behind and that her feelings were very valid. Your next letter to her was a heartfelt apology that she accepted with grace and after that you started writing to each other regularly.

Most of your letters those first few months were long, endless pages of you trying to understand why this break up had such an impact, why you couldn’t seem to let it go. Sometimes while writing, a happy memory from when you were dating would pop up and you’d share it with Nicole, but most of the time it was just you trying to figure out where things had gone wrong and why Chris seemed so unaffected by all of it. Another popular subject was trying to make sense of why people treated you the way they did after you broke up and why they went to such lengths to make you feel so bad up until the point where the only way out was to leave Sudbury.

After a while, a good two years after you first started writing, your letters became less about Chris and more about whatever else was going on in your life. You kept writing Nicole as you moved from Boston to Pittsburgh to Baltimore before you ended up in Philadelphia almost four years ago. She was there with you for every new job, every date you went on, both good and bad, and during your four-year relationship with Dylan that slowly bled to death even though Nicole already told you to call it quits five months earlier.

Except for the annual Christmas letter there was no telling how often you’d write her, sometimes mailing out as many as three letters in one month and sometimes taking several months between one letter and the next. There was always a peak in letters whenever Chris had a new movie out though, his media presence almost a cruel reminder of why you started writing in the first place.

The Infinity War premiere earlier this year, which took place about a week after you were contacted about Encore, made you write two letters in rapid succession. The first one was upbeat, the words penned down almost in a hurry, as though you were afraid you’d run out of time, and almost giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again. The second letter was way more subdued and took you several hours to write as you suddenly found yourself reliving the years right after you broke up with Chris, which in turn made you doubt if coming back would be a good idea.

Your last letter was sent somewhere during the summer, where you let Nicole know that of course you were doing the show, not only because it would be stupid not to but also because you hoped it would bring you some sort of closure after all these years. She supported your decision and you could tell she was excited to finally see you again and introduce her family to you.

Maybe what bothers you so much about Chris now having your letters, you realize, a few hours and two glasses of whiskey later, is that, even though you made the very conscious decision to go back to Sudbury, things are out of your hands now and you hate no longer being in control of what happens next more than anything.

The rest of the week passes by in a blur, a new assignment with a tight deadline has you working long hours, all while Nicole keeps calling you at steady intervals. You never answer, still too upset and hurt by what she did.

When Friday afternoon comes around you wonder if maybe you should call Dr Lipinski, just to hear what he thinks. You decide it would probably be weird to contact him after you stopped seeing him, what, fourteen years ago and so you don’t, not in the least because you know he’ll probably just say something like, “But how does it make you feel?”

Problem is, you don’t know. There’s a whole range of emotions you go through each day, from angry when you remember what Nicole did, to disappointed that she did it, to hurt that she did it without your consent. Giving Chris those letters was like giving away a piece of you that you’ve kept hidden for all these years and you’re not sure you want him to see now, because what if he no longer wants anything to do with you once he finishes reading them?

Last night you wondered if you should just call him and explain well, what exactly you weren’t sure, and so you spent the better part of an hour staring at your phone, willing for Chris’ name to pop up on your screen. You even contemplated calling Scott, only to realize you don’t have his number, which made you even more upset.

Your phone rings then, interrupting your thoughts and when you see it’s your boss who’s calling you take the call with the push of a button on your steering wheel, her voice filling your car in an instant.

The call is short, but you know more will probably follow over the weekend, because for some reason your boss values your opinion too much not to run things by you before final decisions are made. Before you hang up you tell you’re available should she want you to come into the office, and even though she tells you she would never and to enjoy your weekend, you kind of hope that she does, because you could use some distractions in the next forty-eight hours or so, not particularly looking forward to the time alone.

After a quick stop at the grocery story you finally make your way back to your house, cursing quietly when you see there’s no empty parking spaces along your street and you’ll have to park around the corner. Once you find one not too far away, you sling your purse over your shoulder and grab the brown paper bag from the back seat, supporting it with two hands once you’ve locked your car, because even though it’s not really heavy it’s just easier that way.

Your phone rings then and without looking you answer it, figuring it must be your boss backtracking on her earlier offer to not have you come in, “Linds, just tell me when and I’ll be there.”

“It’s me.”

You’re too stunned to say anything and stop at a bench, putting the groceries down to keep from dropping them.

“I know you don’t want to talk and I know you’re still angry, but I need you to listen for like, two minutes, and I promise I will stop meddling after this,” Nicole says so fast you almost want to tell her to take a deep breath, but then she clears her throat and says, “I gave him your address.”

“What?” You make a face because you don’t understand, “Who did you-”

“Just be honest with him, ok babe?”

“What are you talking about?” You shake your head even though she can’t see you, “Nicole? Who has my address? Did Scott contact you-”

“I want you to know that I love you,” her voice is soft, “and that I’m always here for you.” Before you have a chance to say anything she continues, “Now go. I’ll talk to you soon, ok?”

“Nicole!” It’s too late, she’s hung up already and you can feel yourself starting to get annoyed at her call. What the hell was she thinking, giving Scott your address? You stew things over while you pick up your groceries and continue on towards your house, not particularly paying attention to your surroundings. You’ve just made it to the front steps when you see something moving out of the corner of your eye and then someone steps into view and-

“Hi.”

Of course. You look at him from over your grocery bag, “What the hell are you doing here?” Then, because it’s quite busy out and you don’t want anyone to recognize him even though he’s wearing sunglasses, you rest the bag on your hip and fish your keys out of your pocket and nod towards the door once you’ve opened it, “Get inside.”

He waits in the narrow hallway for you to close the door and so you have to squeeze past him to the kitchen so you can finally put your groceries down. You take a deep breath before you turn towards him and it’s then you notice the duffel bag at his feet, which makes you scoff, “What are you doing here, Chris?”

“I wanted to check on you-”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you say, gesturing at yourself, “I’m fine.”

He steps closer then, his eyes landing somewhere over your right shoulder, where you know there are four empty bottles of wine on the counter and so you try your hardest not to cringe, before he looks back at you, one eyebrow raised, “You sure about that?”

You close your eyes for a second, trying to not lose what little composure you have left, “If you just came here to tell me my life is a mess, I really don’t-”

“I came here because we need to talk,” he takes his sunglasses off and runs a hand through his hair, which tells you he’s not quite as confident as he tries to make you believe.

“And you thought showing up, unannounced, was the best way to do this?” You scoff and shake your head, “Do you even know me?”

“I thought I did,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You hold up your hand when you see he wants to say something, “No, you know what, never mind, we’re not doing this now.”

“Ace-”

“The living room is on your right, go, make yourself comfortable, examine my life some more, I don’t care,” you tell him as you turn around and start unloading your groceries, “I’m gonna make us dinner first because I’m not doing this on an empty stomach.”

You think you hear him chuckle, but you’re too determined to prove your point and so you ignore him, instead getting everything you need to make a quick chicken stir fry. He leaves his bag in the hallway, almost like he wants you to know he’s not going anywhere, and it makes you go through a whole range of emotions while you cut the vegetables.

Dinner is awkward and silent and so the moment both of you finish eating you pick up the plates and disappear into the kitchen, mumbling something about doing the dishes. While you wait for the sink to fill up with warm water you start clearing away some of the things you’ve used while cooking and it’s at that moment Chris walks in.

Your kitchen is small and definitely not large enough to host two people comfortably and so you can’t help but bump into him when you turn back around, and having him up in your personal space does nothing to improve your mood.

“You need any help with those dishes?”

You shake your head, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave you alone, but either he really doesn’t or simply chooses not to, because he stays, leaning against the countertop behind you. Fine, you think, and focus on the dishes instead.

“You know what I regret the most?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but his words pierce through the air like a scream and in response you start scrubbing a little harder. He doesn’t wait for your reply and continues, his voice a little louder now, “Letting you go that easily.” He clears his throat, “Did you know I came back for you after we broke up?”

Shit. The plate you were holding slips from your hand, falling back into the soapy water and making some of it splash over the edges, which only adds to your frustration.

“I thought maybe if we could talk and I could explain what really happened at that party, I don’t know. I thought maybe we could work things out, you know, that if you heard my side you’d understand, but-” he pauses for a second, “you weren’t there.” His voice catches on the last word and he clears his throat again, “When I found out you were gone I lost it. I asked Nicole to tell me where you went and when she told me she didn’t know I- Your parents, I called them every single day, begging them to tell me, to at least let me know if you were alright, but they just told me to let it go. To let you go.”

Too much. It’s too much and you can feel the room starting to close in on you and so you try your hardest to just stay focused on the task at hand.

“I think they called my mom at some point, just to get me to back off, and she basically told me the same thing, that I should let you go and that if we were really meant to be together you’d find your way back to me in the end.” He scoffs, “Maybe not the best advice to give a heartbroken nineteen-year old who thinks this is the end of the world. I went off the rails after that and I’m not proud of some of the things I did, but at least the alcohol helped to numb some of the pain, so-” He sighs, “My manager gave me an ultimatum after I missed my third casting call in two months and, I don’t know, I guess that was the turning point, you know? I went back to Los Angeles and focused on work and for a while it helped because that city never held any memories for us so-” his voice drops, “I thought I could finally let you go, but-”

You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear that the past eighteen years have been just as bad for him as they were for you, and it’s almost as if you don’t want to believe that what he just told you is actually true, because it would invalidate so much of the anger you’ve felt for all those years. You drop the glass you were holding back into the water and leave, the living room the only logical option for now because that’s where your liquor cabinet is. Just as you’ve poured two glasses of whiskey, putting one on the dining room table for him to take, he walks in, one eyebrow raised when he sees what you’re doing. You shrug, “I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

There’s a hint of something in his eyes, maybe relief that at least you’re talking again, before he says, “I just need you to hear me out, Ace. Please?”

You don’t say anything but take a sip of your whiskey instead, which he takes as his cue to continue.

“I thought I could forget you, thought that it would get easier after a while but-”

You watch him as he leans against the table, more space between you now than there was in the kitchen. He looks down at his feet and you can see his eyebrows knit together, almost as if he tries to decide what to say next.

He nods then and looks back up at you, “I never believed people who said you never forget your first love, thought eighteen years would be long enough to get over someone- To get over you but,” he tries to smile and shrugs, “then I saw you again last week and-”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“-turns out they were right after all.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you with that half-smile that normally makes you melt a little but now only adds fuel to the fire and so you don’t give him the response you know he’s waiting for.

He runs his hand over his face in frustration, “Well, I guess at least now you know my side.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “I guess I should tell you mine but your new best friend Nicole made sure you already know everything, so-”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t still talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what people do, Ace,” he says, his desperation clear in the way he drops his hands. “I came looking for you last week, you know that? I went by your hotel because I didn’t want to leave things between us like that but you weren’t there and I-,” he shakes his head, “I felt like that nineteen-year old kid again.”

You don’t say anything, just scoff and take another sip, the amber liquid burning your throat in not an entirely unpleasant way.

“So when Nicole offered me that lifeline, I- Reading your letters,” he says, his voice a little unsteady now, “it helped me understand that I fucked up. Not just eighteen years ago but also last week. That’s why I’m here, you know, I- I really hope we can try to work things out, because I don’t want to lose you again.”

“What do you want me to say, Chris? I don't-”

“I just want to know if the girl I fell in love with all those years ago is still there.”

It’s too much. You’d like to believe you’re still angry. At him. At yourself. At Nicole. Because anger is an easy emotion. Safe even, at least it was for the past eighteen years. But it’s also slowly starting to dissolve, because the faint promise of something more that hangs in the air now makes you feel hopeful, maybe, and it confuses you. So, you put your glass down and walk past him, doing what you do best, “I don’t know what you had planned but if you want to you can sleep on the couch, I guess,” you tell him as you make your way to the stairs, “there’s a linen closet on the landing upstairs, next to the bathroom. Everything you need is in there.”

“Ace-”

“I need some-” You take a deep breath, “Good night, Chris.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy and you spend the night tossing and turning, sometimes drifting off in a restless sleep, but mostly awake, the events of the previous evening never far from your mind. By the time Saturday morning comes around you’re a little sleep deprived and a lot on edge.

You’re still in bed, trying to figure out how to go about today, trying to figure out what to do with everything you found out last night, when you hear the familiar creak of the stairs. For a moment you panic, thinking he’s going to come in to tell you he’s leaving, but then you hear the tap being turned on in the bathroom and you let out a sigh of relief, if only because the inevitable has been postponed a little longer.

The shower turns on then and so you realize now is a perfect time to call the one person who you know will help you make sense of the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling after last night. You roll over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand, and thumb through your contact list until you’ve found her number, letting yourself roll on your back once you’ve hit ‘Dial’.

She doesn’t answer right away and for a moment you’re worried she’ll ignore your call like you did hers the past week, but then you hear the familiar sound of her voice and it’s like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

“You ok?” She sounds worried, must know that you wouldn’t call if it’s not urgent, and you love her for it.

“No,” you answer truthfully, “not really.”

“Is he still there?”

“Yeah,” you pause for a second, just to confirm you can still hear the water running. “He’s taking a shower,”

“So he spent the night?”

“On the couch,” you admit easily, “but yeah.”

“What happened?” There’s some noise on her end of the line and you can only imagine her sitting up on the couch, not wanting to miss anything of what you’re about to tell her.

“I don’t know. It was so awkward at first, Nic,” you let out a sigh and look up at the ceiling, “and then he just sort of started talking, telling me his side of the story and-”

“So you know about what happened when he got back to Sudbury?”

“You mean, after we broke up?”

“Yeah,” Nicole confirms.

“I don’t know.” You run a hand over your face, “He told me he sort of lost it for a while?”

“Oh honey,” Nicole scoffs, “he was a mess. He came by a few times, always asking if I knew where you’d gone, if there was a way to contact you, and each time he looked worse than when I last saw him. He even got pulled over at some point and they threatened to put a DUI on his record, but Michael’s dad was still Chief and knew the history between you two and what had happened, you know, so in the end they just took him home and warned him not to do it again. I think he went back to Los Angeles shortly after that.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah.”

You throw your blankets off and sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, “Why’d you never tell me this?”

She scoffs, “Would it have changed things?”

“No.” You sigh, “Probably not.”

“Exactly,” she replies, and you can just imagine her nodding on the other end, “So now that you realize you were an asshole to him last night, what’s-”

“Nicole!” You try to keep your voice down and so it comes out in a hushed whisper.

“Oh come on,” she says, her voice telling you that she knows she’s right, “like that’s not what’s happened.”

“Well yeah, but I don’t need you to rub it in.”

“That’s why you called me though, isn’t it?”

You nod, because of course it is, “Yeah.”

“Ok,” she agrees, “so then you also know what you need to do next.”

“Probably,” you tell her, running one hand through your hair, “but I know you can’t wait to enlighten me just in case,”

“You need to let him in, babe,” she says matter-of-factly. “All the way. Be honest with him. Only then can you two try to make this work.”

You sigh, “I just hope I didn’t fuck it up too much last night,”

“Babe,” she says, the accusatory tone in her voice very clear, “that man is so-”

“That man just finished his shower,” you whisper quickly when you hear the bathroom door open, “I need to go.”

“You got this, babe.” “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you say and push the end call button just as you hear Chris walk by. You wait for him to make it downstairs again before you get out of bed, grabbing some clean clothes before you head to the bathroom as well.

You find him in the kitchen not much later, trying to figure out your coffee machine but so far not succeeding. Clearing your throat to let him know you’re there you lean against the doorframe, “Hey.”

“Hi,” he says and then gestures towards the machine, “I was trying to make us some coffee but,”

“Yeah, no, that requires at least a day of training,” you say with a small smile, the tension you left with last night still very much palpable. “I was thinking maybe we could go out for breakfast?” You were thinking no such thing, but it seems like a good idea. “Get out of the house a little? I know this great place not too far from here, it’s usually pretty quiet there, so-”

“Sounds great,” Chris says while he pushes the coffee machine back to its original spot on the counter.

You grab your purse and keys and wait for him to put on his shoes before you walk outside, telling him your car is parked just around the corner. The drive over to Point Breakfast doesn’t take long but it’s filled with the same awkward silence as during yesterday’s dinner. You try to come with things to talk about but it all seems too unimportant and so you quietly hum along to the radio instead. A quick glance over at Chris tells you he’s nervous as well, flipping his phone in his hand over and over again.

Surprisingly enough there’s a free parking spot not too far from the entrance of the diner and once you’ve filled the meter you lead Chris inside. There are two other booths occupied, and even though none of the patrons pay any particular attention to you, you still go for the booth in the far corner just in case.

The waitress, who introduces herself as Agnes, is at your table the minute you sit down and pours each of you a steaming hot coffee after handing you the menu, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, ok?”

Both Chris and you nod in reply and you busy yourself studying the menu even though you already know what you’re going to get. Still, it’s a nice distraction. When you put the menu down after a while you find Chris looking at you with a half-smile.

“Banana pecan pancakes?”

“Yup,” you nod, a little surprised he still knows your breakfast order after all these years. Then, because apparently you feel like you have something to prove, “Eggs Benedict for you?”

“Always,” he says, smiling for real now.

It’s then Agnes comes back to take your order and you let Chris order for the both of you, watching him as he charms his way into Agnes heart for sure. You can’t help but smile when you listen to the easy banter between them.

Once Agnes leaves to give the kitchen your order Chris turns back to you, “She reminds me of Mrs Linton.”

“She does, yeah.”

He keeps looking at you, the way he’d always do whenever he wanted to talk about something important, and so you sort of know what’s coming next but still he surprises you when he asks, “Are we good?”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while and it makes you worried and nervous and you wonder if you’ve fucked it up for good this time, but then he leans forward, “What do you need?”

The last eighteen years back, you think with a heavy heart, but instead you tell him, “I don’t know.” You offer a shrug in apology because you know it’s not a fair answer to give twice in a row.

“It’s ok,” he says, his voice kind, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Breakfast is filled with smalltalk, Chris asking you about your job and your life here in Philly and in return you ask him to tell you more about his life in Los Angeles, which he does, although he admits he misses home terribly when he’s out west and says he hopes to start spending more time in Sudbury in the near future. You don’t miss the way he looks at you when he tells you that, an unspoken question lingering between you that you’re not sure you can answer right now.

You try your best to pay attention to the conversation but his words from earlier keep echoing through your mind and you can’t help but wonder what exactly he meant when he said he wasn’t going anywhere. Nicole’s voice joins the conversation in your head then, berating you for still being way too guarded.

When you finish your plate just a little after he does you check your phone and see it’s just past noon. A bit too early to return to your house, you decide, trying to figure out what you could do instead. It’s then you remember something you would do whenever you had a date in Boston and you smile when you look up at him, “If you want we could go to Morris Arboretum next? The trees there are beautiful this time of year, so maybe we could just walk around for a bit?”

“I’d like that.”

You wave Agnes over and ask for the bill, which Chris lets you pay because well, you tell him to. You’re back in your car not much later, your drive taking you to the other side of the city in just under an hour.

By the time you get to the Arboretum the sun is out if full force and it’s warm enough that you don’t need your jacket and so you leave it in the car. Rummaging through your purse you try to find your sunglasses, putting them on when you finally find them only to see Chris squinting against the bright light. You tell him to hang on for a minute and open the trunk of your car, quickly locating what you’re looking for, “Here you go.”

He eyes the cap suspiciously, and you hold your breath, hoping he might have forgotten about it, but then he turns it over in his hands and looks at the inside where his initials are still visible on the tag, albeit a little more faded now. His eyes widen in surprise, “You kept this all these years?”

“Well, yeah, It’s a nice cap,” you try, hoping it sounds casual enough for him not to comment on it any further, “and I’ll always be a Patriots girl, no matter where I am.” It’s true. When you first started dating you didn’t really care for football but you always tagged along to watch games with either his friends or his family and it wasn’t long before you found yourself immersed in the sport. And even though you don’t keep up as much now, you still find yourself rooting for the Patriots whenever you catch a game.

He doesn’t say anything but you think you see the hint of a smile when he puts it on and you wonder if he remembers the night he gave it to you, on your one-year anniversary, when he got tickets to a game and you spent the weekend in Boston together.

You try to push back the memories, not wanting to find yourself getting lost in the past, and instead tell him, “Let’s go,” and head to the visitor center where you pay the entrance fee. You opt for the long trail, which, if you don’t stop at any of the features, will take about thirty minutes, but you’ve never been here before so you’re sure it’ll probably take you a lot longer. Which is fine, because it’s still early and the weather is perfect for an afternoon outside.

The first stop is a Tree Canopy walk that does exactly what it says and leads you through the treetops. It’s quiet, not too many people around, and at times it almost seems like you’re here alone. You walk side by side, quietly marvelling at the things you encounter being this high up, and there’s a familiarity to it all that both scares and excites you.

The trail takes you through a rose garden next and several other features after, until about an hour later you find yourself at the step fountain and when Chris suggests taking a quick break you join him on the top step, which offers you a nice view of the lawn spreading out in front of the fountain.

There’s some distance between you but still Chris manages to nudge your knee with his when he asks, “Where’s your head at?”

Immediately you hear Nicole’s voice, telling you to be honest and you decide that maybe it’s time to take her advice even though you’re not sure where to start. You take a deep breath and say the one thing it all comes down to, “Us.”

You see him nod out of the corner of your eye and take it as your cue to continue, “I’m just,” you sigh, “I don’t know, Chris, I keep wondering if this would have happened had it not been for Encore.”

“Ace-”

“No,” you hold up your hand to let him know you’re not finished and smile even though you don’t look at him, “my turn.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to gather your thoughts, “I just think that maybe we both got caught up in the moment, you know? Maybe-”

“You’ve kept my baseball cap all these years,” he replies solemnly and there’s no accusation in his voice, it sounds like he’s just stating the facts. Standing up then, he hands you his cap back, and for a moment you worry that maybe this is it, maybe this is where he draws the line and walks away, but instead he takes his hoodie off, which has you even more confused.

“Chris, what-”

He walks down the first few steps then, making sure he’s at eye level with you, and pushes the fabric of his t-shirt aside.

You look at him, your eyebrows knitted together because what the hell is he doing, but then you see the tattoo he’s just revealed and it’s like all the air is being sucked from your lungs. Shaking your head in disbelief, you take in the ace of hearts on his chest and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying when you see the heart in the middle of the card is broken. Without thinking you reach out and let your fingers ghost over his skin, tracing the lines that are tattooed over his heart.

“I got this on what was supposed to be our ten-year anniversary,” he says, the sadness in his voice mirrored by the look in his eyes that you see when you look back up at him. “I’m not caught up in a moment, Ace.”

“I-,”

Something else passes over his features then, but before you can recognize what it is he’s putting his hoodie back on and sits down again, much closer this time, his leg brushing against yours as he does. You much more feel than hear him take a deep breath and then he looks at you, “I meant what I said earlier.” He reaches over then and takes one of your hands in his, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not the same person anymore, Chris.” You look down at where your hand sits comfortably in his, “I’m just scared that you have this idea of me that-” you sigh and shake your head, not sure where to go next. You look back up at him, the tears from earlier starting to spill over slowly, “I’m just- I’m scared.”

“I know,” he says and gives your hand a squeeze, “so am I, but-” he lets go of your hand and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him, “I don’t want to waste another eighteen years wondering what could have been.”

When, after a while, he suggests continuing the tour through the Arboretum you agree, and when you get up he offers you his hand to help you down the steps, but doesn’t let go once you get to the bottom and so you spend the rest of the trail walking hand in hand, the silence between you now much more comfortable than it was before.

It takes you about an hour to make it back to the entrance, the sun a little lower in the sky now even though it’s still nice and warm out. Once you get to the parking lot he offers to drive back and so you hand him your car keys without too much protest, climbing into the passenger’s seat not much later. A quick glance at the dashboard clock tells you it’ll be almost six once you get back and so you suggest stopping at a Thai place not far from your house and get some takeout.

You give him directions where needed but other than that the ride over is silent, the only sound coming from a radio station that plays eighties rock classics that you always have on when driving. You’re simply too lost in thoughts to start a conversation, and you guess maybe he is too. You wonder where his head is at, because even though he keeps telling you that he’s not going anywhere he hasn’t really told you he wants to get back together with you either. Or is that just your mind playing tricks with you? Is him saying that he doesn’t want to waste another eighteen years enough?

More than anything you want to call Nicole, so you can tell her what happened and ask for advice, but you also know that wouldn’t be fair to her, Chris, or you. You’re going to have to trust yourself to make the right decision even though you’re sure that deep down inside you already know what that is. And you want to tell him, really you do, but it’s not necessarily a conversation you want to have now, driving down Broad Street in the middle of the Saturday afternoon rush, and so you decide to wait until you get home.

When he pulls up to Ameri Thai about forty minutes later you tell him to wait in the car, assuring him you’ll get some extra spring rolls just for him.

Mrs Zhang greets you enthusiastically, a little surprised when you give her your order, but then she realizes what’s going on and throws you a wink, “Ah, you got company, honey?”

You laugh and shrug, neither denying or confirming her question, but you’ve been coming here for at least once a week ever since you moved into the neighbourhood so by now Mrs Zhang knows your order by heart and so she also knows she’s right. To distract her you ask her how her grandchildren are doing and even though she answers rather elaborately, she keeps looking at you from behind the counter, almost as if she’s studying you.

After a while she disappears into the kitchen, no doubt to tell her husband the latest gossip, and when she comes back with the takeout bag not much later, she actually rounds the counter to give it to you. You hold out your hand to take it from her, but it’s then she pats you arm and smiles at you, “You look happier, honey, I like it.”

“Thank you,” you say, a weird feeling in your stomach as you accept the bag from her and wave at Mr Zhang, who has appeared behind the counter, before you let yourself out and walk back to your car where you find Chris quietly singing along to Boston’s ‘More Than A Feeling’. He’s taken the cap off and you can tell he’s tried to get his hair back into shape, but it’s a little tousled and a lot cute. Damnit.

“Ready?” He asks as soon as you’ve fastened your seatbelt.

“Yup.” You nod and point, ‘“Just take a left here and then you’re back on my street.”

Dinner tonight is far more relaxed than it was yesterday, although you’re still mostly sticking to smalltalk, discussing your other castmates and the things they’ve been up to over these past years. Chris tells you he’s been to the ten-year reunion of his graduating class, but has really only kept in touch with Michael, even attending his wedding a few years ago.

All too soon you’re both done eating and so once again you mumble something about doing the dishes, hoping it will buy you some time to gather your thoughts and figure out how where to start.

“Need any help with those dishes?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you counter with a grin this time and hand him the tea towel. After you’ve drained the sink you watch him dry off the remaining two plates, and when he puts the plates in a cupboard they definitely don’t belong in, you say nothing, too enamored by this weird moment of domestic bliss.

When he’s done he hangs the tea towel on its designated hook and looks at you, almost as if he’s awaiting further instructions, hands back in the pockets of his jeans, trying to act cool even though the red spots in his neck tell you he’s anything but.

There’s so much you still have to say, so much you still want to tell him, but not now.

Not now.

Now, you take a tentative step forward, slowly closing the space between you, and stand in front of him, biting your lip as you look up at him. His eyes widen and there’s a question in them that you answer with a nod and a mischievous smile. Your hands rest on his chest then, but it isn’t long before they move up so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close.

“You sure about this, Ace?” His voice is low and full of promises and you answer the only way you know how, by pushing yourself up and letting your lips ghost against his.

He leans forward then, catching your mouth with his as he sneaks his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer, kissing you with a determination that makes last week’s kiss pale in comparison. It isn’t long before his tongue darts across your lips and you let him in instantly, the taste of him infatuating you even more. His hands travel down then and when he taps your thigh you know what to do and jump up, throwing your legs around his waist.

You feel him take a few careful steps forward, until you bump against the counter and he sits you down on it, now standing in between your legs, his hands cupping your face as you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him. Your hands settle on his chest, bunching up the fabric of his sweater in between your fingers, wanting more of him, needing him closer. Wrapping your legs around his waist again you press yourself against him, dragging your teeth over his bottom lip at the same time, not missing the groan that escapes him.

He gets his revenge by pulling back, making you whimper at the loss of contact, a little out of breath and a lot turned on. He rests his forehead against yours and chuckles, “That was-”

“Yeah,” you agree, letting go of his sweater so you can run your hands through his hair before you let them settle at the base of his neck, only so you can keep him where you need him most as your mouth finds his again. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, a want behind it that you know he gets when he takes a step back, his lips still on yours, and gently tugs at your hips, making you slide down from the counter. You have to brace yourself against him because your legs are a little wobbly, your hands now on his chest again, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss when he grabs your elbows to hold you steady.

You feel yourself getting lost in him, but at the same time there’s something so familiar about all of this, about him, that almost makes it feel like you’re coming home. In a rare moment of clarity, you wonder if maybe that’s just it. Maybe you’ve been so restless all these years because you had this idea that home was supposed to be the city you grew up in, or any of the places you moved to after, where you tried so hard to forget the past. Maybe this always was where you belonged, simply because Chris always was your home.

The realization makes you hesitate, just a moment, but of course Chris picks up on it and he pulls back, a worried look in his eyes as he cups your face and makes you look up at him, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you say with a smile, even though you’re not surprised to feel tears coming to your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of your words hangs in the air until finally it hits him. There’s a whole range of emotions that pass over his face before he seems to settle on relief, when he leans in and kisses your forehead, “God, I’ve missed you, Ace.”

“Show me,” your voice is thick, laced with emotion, and you can see his pupils dilate in response.

His hands grab your legs again, lifting you up, and you wrap your arms and legs around him, your face buried in his neck as he carries you out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your bedroom. He doesn’t let go and so you’re still wrapped around him when he starts kissing you again, until after a while you feel yourself go weak in his arms and let go, trying to catch your breath. There’s not much respite, because his hands are tugging on the bottom of your sweater then, his fingers against your exposed skin sending shivers down your spine.

Breaking contact just long enough for him to push your sweater up and over your head, you find yourself enjoying the way his eyes roam your body before one of his hands cups your breast, his thumb rubbing your already hard nipple over the fabric of your bra, which adds some extra friction. A soft moan escapes you and you can feel yourself starting to get wet almost instantly.

He licks his lips and then pushes the fabric aside as he leans forward, his tongue now replacing his thumb, sucking and licking in a way that makes you a little weak in the knees. You whimper when he lets go but his lips keep ghosting over your skin, slowly making their way up to your neck, where his tongue circles your pulse point before his lips latch on and he starts sucking in earnest.

Tilting your head to give him better access, your hands find their way to his jeans, the red belt you gave him for his birthday all those years ago holding no secrets for you and so you slide it open without giving it too much thought. You unbutton his jeans, tugging them down just a little, and let your fingers run over his abs, marvelling at how much more muscular he is now than he was then.

His mouth finds yours again, one hand in your hair while the other has returned to your breast, softly kneading it while his tongue swirls around yours. He pulls back rather abruptly, eyes dark and full of want as he takes his hoodie and t-shirt off in one go, throwing them somewhere in a corner before he puts his hands on your hips and guides you towards the bed. When your legs bump against it you sit down slowly, looking up at him with your lip between your teeth as you scoot backwards. He wastes no time and pushes his jeans down, the outline of his cock visible against the fabric of his boxes, a bit of precum staining the material a darker colour.

You keep looking at him while you unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips so you can push them down but his hands are already tugging on the fabric. Your jeans get thrown next to his and you watch him as he climbs on the bed, the mattress sagging a little under his weight, and you moan when he slowly lowers himself onto you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says, his mouth close to your ear and his voice a little rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand sneaks down your side to the hem of your panties and for a moment he teases you, letting his fingers run along the edge of the fabric.

“Chris,” you breathe, hoping it will convey that you need more, pushing your hips up to make sure he understands.

He slips his fingers underneath the fabric, gently pressing them against your mound, his teeth dragging over the skin just below your ear as he does. There’s a trail of kisses then, from your collarbone to the swell of your breast, to the skin on your stomach, goosebumps appearing everywhere he goes. When he finally reaches your panties you help him, hooking your fingers on the elastic band and pushing them down quickly. It earns you a wicked grin from him as he helps you take them off, adding them to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

You reach out, wanting to feel him in your hands, but before you have a chance to cup him through his boxers he gently swats your hands away but doesn’t say anything and instead puts his hands on your thighs and spreads your legs to give him better access. Slowly, slowly, he moves his fingers over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours as he makes his way to where you need him most. His mouth follows soon after, teasing you by leaving butterfly kisses wherever he goes, while his fingers inch closer and closer.

A whine escapes you just as he runs a finger through your folds and so it turns into a moan, because fuck. Your hands look for something to hold onto and you have to settle for the duvet cover, bunching up the fabric between your fingers when he slides one of his into you. He moves slowly, his finger sliding in and out of you in a languid pace, his other hand on your stomach to keep you in place as his tongue finds your clit. He adds another finger then and starts moving a little faster, and you can feel your orgasm starting to build.

Feeling his beard scratch your skin only adds to the sensation and soon, with two fingers inside of you and your clit being sucked, licked, and flicked, you push your hips up in earnest, letting him know you’re almost there. He picks up the pace even more and you let out a quiet, “Fuck,” when the first waves of your orgasm wash over you not much later. He helps you ride it out by keeping his fingers inside of you but not moving them until you let yourself fall back, your eyes closed as he slowly pulls out.

You feel his beard scratch against your cheek and find his mouth effortlessly, a shiver running down your spine when you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, and as he pulls back a satisfied sigh escapes you. When you open your eyes he’s there, looking at you with something that goes beyond lust and want, a tenderness in his eyes that you haven’t seen in a long time. You reach up, gently pushing some of his tousled hair back before you cup his face and pull him close for another kiss.

He groans in response, mouth clashing against yours for a kiss that makes you see stars, before he pushes himself off and stands up at the edge of the bed. When he takes his boxers off, his cocks springs free, and you can’t help but bite your lips, suddenly remembering your first time together, all those years ago. He looks at you then, “Do you have a-”

“In the bathroom,” you reply, before you quickly add, “but I’m tested. And on the pill.”

“Me too.” He grins then, running a hand through his hair, “Tested, I mean. Not the pill.”

You can’t help but smile at the blush that creeps up on his cheeks as he stands there, this adonis of a man that has nothing to be embarrassed about. Pushing yourself up you sit down on your knees and hold out your hands, beckoning him over. He joins you on the bed, cupping your face and kissing you again, slower this time, like he wants to savour every second of it. You feel his cock rub against your stomach and can’t help but wrap your hand around it, sliding it up and down his shaft. When you run your thumb over the tip he shivers and pulls back a little, and so you put your mouth to his ear and whisper, “Make me yours again, Chris.”

He reacts instantly, gently lowering the both of you back down until you're underneath him again. Supporting himself with one hand, he takes himself in the other, running his cock through your wet folds for some extra lubrication. He looks at you when he presses the tip against your against your entrance, silently asking for permission.

You nod and watch as he slowly pushes into you, letting out a moan when he stops halfway through, allowing you to adjust to him. “Chris,” you breathe, and he takes it as his cue to push down further, only stopping when he’s fully inside. Your walls clench around him involuntarily, drawing a strangled groan from him that sets him in motion.

Leaning down he catches your mouth with his as he starts to move his hips, his thrusts slow yet deliberate and you marvel at the way your bodies still fit together so perfectly after all these years. You let your fingers run over the muscles in his back, grabbing onto his shoulders when he picks up the pace after a while, and stop kissing him so you can catch your breath.

“Fuck, Ace,” he groans, mouth close to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin like a forest fire.

You wrap one leg around his waist, needing more of him, and with his next thrust he hits your sweet spot, making your eyes roll back in pure bliss, knowing you’re getting close and so you let out a staggered, “Oh, God-”

“Gonna make you come so hard,” Chris growls before gently biting down on the exposed skin below your ear. Quickening his pace, you know he’s chasing the same high you’re so close to and so you clench your walls again, creating even more friction. He buries his face in your neck, cursing quietly against your skin.

“Chris, I-” you start, but then he hits that spot again and all you can do is let out a quiet, “Oh.” You’re teetering on the edge and of course he knows, his fingers finding your clit and softly rubbing it. “Fuck,” you draw out, panting now.

“Gonna make you mine,” he growls and pulls almost all the way out, holding still for a second. You whimper quietly but then he pushes all the way in, somehow deeper than before, pinching your clit at the same time, “Come for me, Ace.”

Your orgasm is instant, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through your body, your nails digging into his skin when you feel him swell up inside you. “Let go, babe,” you whisper, and he does. You feel him come inside of you, his release coating your walls, and he lets himself collapse on top of you, even though he still makes sure to keep some of his weight off of you. His face is still in the crook of your neck and you move your hands, throwing them around his neck and gently running your fingers through his hair as you both come down from this high.

He pulls out not much later and rolls off of you, pulling you with him, and you let your head rest against his chest after he places a kiss on your temple, your fingers running lazily through his chest hair. You stay like that for a while, a comfortable silence between you until his phone beeps from somewhere out of the pocket of his jeans, letting him know he’s got a new message.

He mutters something about getting that later before he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Come on,”

You push yourself off him and get out of bed, waiting for him to join you before you make your way to the bathroom.

Like everything in your house, the shower is tiny and so you’re pressed against each other, the warm water finding its way between your bodies as he lathers you up with soap. You’ve got your back towards him, his hands gently massaging the muscles in your shoulders while he softly hums a song you don’t recognize, and you secretly wish you could stay like this forever.

When you wake up on Sunday morning you can’t help but smile when you find Chris’ arm draped across your stomach while he still sleeps soundly next to you. You turn towards him, studying him for a while, taking in his face and his neatly trimmed beard. His brow furrows then and without thinking you place the palm of your hand against his cheek to let him know you’re there.

He smiles when he opens his eyes, “Mornin’,” his voice a little hoarse, the way it always was early in the morning.

“Hi,” you scoot forward and give him a kiss.

Wrapping his arm around you tighter, he nuzzles your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while his fingers ghost over your skin. After a while he lets out a deep sigh and whispers, “I have to leave soon.”

Even though your heart drops, you nod, “I figured.”

“My flights at two,” he says as he pulls back a little so he can look at you, “and then I’m off to Los Angeles on Tuesday.”

“How long-” your voice catches and so you clear your throat, “How long will you-”

“At least two weeks.”

You don’t say anything and let your eyes drop, trying to decide if you have a right to feel upset about this. Probably not. This was never supposed to happen and so you doubt there’s any time allotted in his schedule for you.

“Ace,” his voice interrupts your thoughts, and he sounds worried, “talk to me.”

Trying to find the right words you just smile at him.

“We will make this work,” he says then, as if he’s read your mind.

“How?”

“Los Angeles is just two weeks,” his hand now cupping your cheek, “after that I’m back home until I start filming again at the end of October.”

You nod, because that definitely offers some possibilities. The idea of maybe moving back to Sudbury flashes through your mind, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself, and so you push it back.

“We’re shooting in Boston, eight weeks tops, so-” he shrugs, “I’ll be back in Sudbury for Christmas.” There’s the hint of a smile playing on his lips then, but there’s a questioning look in his eyes, “Tell me you’ll be there too.”

It’s exciting, this promise of something more, and you feel your lips curve up into a smile when you answer honestly, "I'd like that.”

#Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans fanfic #Harley Sunday x Chris Evans #Chris Evans #Encore

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tessiete · 4 years

Note

16 (“If you want, we could go together?”) or 46 (“Shut up, I am a delight!”) for Obi-Wan & Padme, but no pressure whatsoever <3 <3 <3

Pressure! Pressure! Pressure! Lots of pressure. You know how my vanity requires that everything I write be capital P Profound.

This was a lot of fun to write - I forgot how much I love Padme. Now I’m contriving how to have her and Satine in the same fic and see how different they are.

In the meantime, here’s 2k of Padme just staring at Obi-Wan. Hope you’re at work @tree-scapes

AND NEVER DO HARM TO THE WORLD

She asks him before she’s certain of the wisdom in it, herself, and he looks at her as if he’s only certain of its absence.

“If you want,” she says, “We could go together?”

The hitch in his step makes her wince as they reach the top of the Temple steps. She’s trapped him now, she knows, and feels guilty, but there’s no way for her to withdraw without causing further injury to both their dignities.

“I only suggest it since I know it’s a burden to - to me,” she explains. “And my usual escort is indisposed.”

He smiles. It’s a stiff and awkward line, as though drawn across his face by the unpracticed hand of a child, but he bows, and acquiesces with grace.

“Of course, Senator,” he says. She’s senator again, though moments before with Masters Windu and Koon she’d been Padme, so she knows it’s not the company.

“If it’s no inconvenience. I wouldn’t want to impose on your schedule, if you’d only meant to go for a short -”

“It’s no inconvenience at all,” he insists. His smile is kinder now, his awkwardness eased by the desire to alleviate her own obvious discomfort. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Good. Then I will know to expect you,” she says. With one more shallow bow, and the press of his fingers to hers, she hurries away, anxious to escape the louring gaze of the Temple guardians, and Obi-Wan’s curious stare.

She expects that he will show up, as promised.

She expects he will be, in all ways, gracious and prepared.

She expects stilted conversation, and wonders how often her tongue will stray to speak of Anakin, hoping the wine and frizz won’t alleviate one problem only to create another.

She expects she will spend the evening regretting her impulsive invitation, and making him regret it, if he doesn’t already.

What she does not expect is to be met at her door by a man she hardly recognises.

She has known Obi-Wan Kenobi since she was a girl, and he, hardly more than a boy, though in her eyes even then he’d been a man well beyond the reach of her childish ambition. Met again, he’d seemed...not ancient - one could hardly call him that - but aged, perhaps. Somber. Solemn to the point of serenity. He had an authority of a kind she’d only seen in grandmothers and wild prey, a sort of amused resignation to the motions of life, and an understanding gained through loss and sorrow. Whatever it was, it was something very distant from her, as if he’d grown out while she’d been busy growing up.

But the man that stands before her now is young, and sparkling. And nervous. It is a side of him she’s not seen before, and it has her counting the distance of years in her head. Is it ten? Less than? Surely not more. Are they truly peers?

He wears a skirt of muted blue, with three deep pleats pressed the full length on his right side. The creams of his traditional tabards are replaced with a stiff white tunic, and a thigh-length jacket with wide sleeves that drapes soft as the sky over his shoulders and down his back. It is a curious mix of imposed structure and natural elegance.

“Jedi formalwear,” he explains beneath her curious inspection. His fingers twist at the inside of a sleeve where the fabric hangs just long enough to hide his hand. He extends his opposite arm to offer her proper support. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she agrees, and instead of the more sophisticated and out-dated practice of simply laying her hand atop his, she tucks her arm beneath, and steps close until their arms are pressed between them, more like comrades than indifferent chaperones.

They stay that way until they reach the Feano Lyceum, Obi-Wan’s arm against hers. She is presented first, and his name follows. She thinks he may pull away here, in public, but his hold remains neither loose enough to encourage release, nor tight enough to prove her suspicions about his disquiet correct.

A few ambassadors and fellow diplomats nod in greeting at their arrival, but they are not questioned about their connection. This, Padme realises with some relief, and then worries that the Jedi may sense some of that and go looking for its source. She isn’t certain, yet, what lies within the power of the Force to provide. Anakin seems as attuned to her moods as she is at times, and then so oblivious at others that she thinks they must be total strangers. It would be unfortunate if Obi-Wan were to tend towards the former. If he knew about whom she thought of so often and so well...

It’s been six months since she’d wed her knight, and she’d heard lots about Obi-Wan second-hand, but only as a father, or an overly strict mentor. He is neither of these things tonight. And he is neither of these things to her. So what is Obi-Wan Kenobi?

A Jedi, certainly. Wise. Accomplished. Just. Driven. Demanding. These were all revealed to her by Anakin, and proved to her by history. But he’d said more she was less convinced of.

Stern? Perhaps, though she might instead say serious.

Aloof? Not that. Not judging by the way he leans into her at the approach of the senator from Alk’Lellish III who courts him with a lascivious flick of her tongue, and lingering prehensile limbs.

Cold? Not by the way he nudges her to draw her attention to the buffet table where two politicians abandon a vehement argument to fall into an enthusiastic embrace, stifling a smirk.

Pretentious? Not in how he coaxes her to try some sort of elegantly twisted hors d’oeuvres only to break out into genuine laughter as he watches the spice hit her tongue.

“You knew,” she accuses, trying in vain to wipe at her mouth with a synthcloth napkin in an elegant fashion.

“I might have,” he acknowledges, before mercifully passing over a cocktail from the bar. “It’s a White Knight. Made with nerf-milk. It’ll soothe the sting.”

She throws the drink back with the steel of a seasoned professional, and Obi-Wan’s brow rises in surprise.

“I’ve been in politics a long time,” she says, a warning in her tone.

“Ah,” he says, signalling for two more. “So have I.”

His own drink disappears as quickly as her first, and he calls for a flute of frizz while she sips at the Knight.

“I was under the impression you’d be above all this,” she says. “You know - as a Master of the Order.”

“I had similar delusions,” he agrees, taking a long draught of his drink. “However, it turns out there’s rather more politicking in times of war than of peace.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it seems that now we are required to be paraded about as the face of the Republic at these things as often as possible. To show we are here. To demonstrate our investment. To prove that the Chancellor is doing something about the Separatist threat.”

He finishes that drink, and reaches for another passing by on a tray. Padme’s smile turns to a frown as she watches that one disappear nearly as rapidly.

“You sound as though you don’t approve,” she says.

Obi-Wan tenses beside her, and turns away to set his empty glass aside. She cannot see his face, so must read what she can in the rigid line of his back as he says, “I lost many friends on Geonosis.”

“I’m sorry.”

When he turns back he is smiling softly once more, and she can’t tell if it is the Knight or some otherworldly radiance of his own that makes him blur at the edges, disguising his hurt, and transforming his disgust into dust, swept away by the fine skirts, and elevated company.

“Don’t be,” he says, deliberately applying her apology to a far less serious wound. “That’s why I came tonight with you. I had hoped you might ease my way, and perform all necessary flattery for me.”

“Oh, I hardly think you need my help in that,” she says, rolling her eyes, content to follow him to safer ground. “Maybe only to keep your admirers at bay.”

A short, sharp exhalation of air, and he falls silent, looking away.

“Why, Master Kenobi,” she cries, entranced and in utter delight, “Are you blushing?”

“That would be rather undignified for someone of my rank,” he denies. “It’s only a flush from the heat of the room.”

“You are blushing!”

“I am not,” he says. “It’s the ventilation that’s lacking.”

She waits. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, until she catches his gaze and holds it. His lips twitch. She can see his facade begin to splinter. It only pushes her to a higher mirth, and she laughs outright as it gives way entirely, leaving them both breathless and gasping.

Their joy catches the interest of several nearby dignitaries, one of whom is the Lellish ambassador with the wandering appendages, and before Obi-Wan can revert back to the blandly pleasant stoic he plays at, she takes him by the hand and leads him to the floor.

“Dance with me,” she says.

His smile remains, though his head tilts in confusion.

“This doesn’t seem a particularly effective way to solicit political support,” he suggests.

“No,” she says. “Not at all. But then I don’t find myself particularly interested in politics tonight, do you, Master Kenobi?”

“Obi-Wan,” he corrects, eyes shining.

“I thought not,” she says, and a smirk winds its way across her lips like the arched spine of a smug felinx.

They dance one set, and then the next, twirling away in a flourish of colour and light the moment anyone steps too near, or looks too close, and for a time they cannot be touched, and when they are spent, they fall laughing, out of line, upon each other.

“Anakin won’t believe this!” she says, her voice still rising with the excitement of the music. She doesn’t realise what she’s said until Obi-Wan’s eyes turn cloudy, and a wedge forms between his brows as he looks on her with a strange regard. “Next time I see him,” she amends. “I’ll tell him your secret.”

The Jedi coughs to clear some stray thought from his throat before it can be said aloud, and looks out over the room.

“Yes, I - I’m sure he’ll be amused,” he agrees. “Though we have attended many functions such as this before. Growing up. On a variety of worlds. It can be of little surprise to him - it seems that such civilized negotiations are common everywhere.”

Padme settles her skirts, and treads cautiously. “I suppose that’s true,” she allows.

“Though I imagine he little suspects that I am capable of such delight.”

“He has never said that,” she says, unwilling to slander Anakin even in her denial of him.

“But evidently, he thinks it,” Obi-Wan says, then sighs, gathering himself again. “Forgive me,” he says. “I find myself more and more uncertain what Anakin thinks, and feels. He doesn’t come to me as - Forgive me. You’re much too young, but I suppose one day, when you have your own younglings eaten up by adulthood you’ll feel it, too.”

“You’re not so old as all that, Obi-Wan,” she chides. “Hardly older than me, and not much older than Anakin. Certainly not old enough to be his father.”

“I was his master,” he corrects. “And now that he is knighted, I’m not certain what I am, anymore. He is changing faster than I am.”

She watches him as he watches the room spin, whirling by him in a wild array of colour and form that he cannot possibly follow - or if he can, then he is even more distant, even more removed from her ability to reckon. He is different. He is set apart, even from Anakin, and she suddenly wonders if that is because of the Force, or because of himself. Is it he who feels removed? He who feels shut out? He who feels divested of his place in the world, defined only by the title others call him and lacking the distinction of earnest comprehension? It isn’t enough, she thinks, to see in him what Anakin sees, or what she might expect. She needs to see him for himself, and appreciate him for that.

“His brother then,” she concludes, and she takes his hand. “And my friend, whatever else besides, no matter what he thinks.”

“If you say so,” he says, and she can feel him yield beneath the pressure of her hand, and the firmness of her conviction.

“I absolutely do. Let’s not think of him. Let’s be whatever we are right now. Let’s be delighted and delightful together, and have just one more dance.”

#Padme #Anidala #Obi-Wan Kenobi #my fic #prompt fill #sw #star wars #fanfic

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