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nemesis729 · 3 years

Note

I would love, love, love to read your full thoughts ❤

Okay, *cracks fingers*, sit tight because this may be a beast to type out and it may take a few more rereads and some block quotes for me to do a full in-depth analysis. Translation: I’m going to try to do a full-on essay with this because there’s a lot to unpack.

Really, it all boils down to one thing. Billy has a lot to learn. That’s basically been my thought since Reader called it quits at the gala.

Since the inception of the arrangement, Billy kept the reader at arms’ length. The Reader was aware enough (due to her childhood, most likely) that Billy would run for the hills if anything resembling emotions and relationships were to enter the equation. So, of course, she decided to settle for what he could give her. Okay, yeah, it’s amazing sex but, after a while, it can leave a person cold if there’s little to no emotion involved. In any case, after the wake-up call, Reader decides that she wants more than the scraps and isn’t willing to settle for what he’s giving her. When she ends it with Billy, he’s completely blind-sided because, all of a sudden, without him noticing, Reader is showing that she isn’t as biddable as he expected her to be. I wouldn’t be surprised if, at the gala, he expected her to fall in line when he had her up against a column.

Anyway, I digress. If anything, because Reader was easy-going in his eyes and he didn’t care enough to observe her during the almost-year of their arrangement, I shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t understand why she ended things. Seriously, you can’t just pay attention to what’s being said. You also have to pay attention to what’s not being said.

That’s kind of what I wanted to rant about for chapters 1 through 3. This essentially sums up Billy’s thoughts on the reader:

Up until last Saturday, you had barely been a blip on his radar. Sure you guys were fuck buddies and he liked your easygoing personality, but the thing he appreciated most about you was that you were low maintenance. You didn’t demand anything from him emotionally and that meant he didn’t have to put in any effort into the relationship.

This, in itself, is very telling. For me, it brings home the idea that the arrangement mostly benefitted Billy. Since we, as the audience, know that Reader felt more for Billy than he did for her, we’re left thinking, “wow, what a douchebag,” about him. Like, seriously, during those months they were together, he didn’t make little observations about the reader? No filing away about what her preferences are? Her tics?

If you were someone he cared about he may have gone over to check on you or made more of an effort to get in touch but, really, he couldn’t be bothered.

That basically summed up the first arc of Reader and Billy’s relationship, such as it was. And, when she decided that enough was enough and she deserved something more substantial, all of a sudden, she’s interesting and now he wants her.

At this point, I want to say that the tables have turned. Except, I can’t. Maybe. Possibly. Before, Reader suffered in silence about her feelings where she stood in Billy’s life because she was self-aware and able to read the room with regards to Billy. She knew him enough that any discussion about the future and commitments were a no-go for him. Now, when Reader doesn’t want anything to do with him, Billy wants her. As I previously pointed out in my last reply, does he want her for her or is it a point of pride because she was the one that ended it first and not him?

It’s, as the kids say, pretty sus.

Anyhoo, the latest installment of “A Woman Scorned.” What a doozy. The chapter had everything from tension, UST, and protective best friends.

Davina is the best friend we all wish we had and what we aspire to be. I love how protective she is over the reader. I also enjoyed how judgmental she was at Billy’s lack of knowledge about reader. Here are my favorite scenes:

“Billy Russo.”

Davina ignored his hand, lifting her eyebrow. “I don’t like you.”

“Clearly.”

“And I don’t like that you’re messing around with my friend.”

Billy stood up straight, concerned. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. She texted me and told me she couldn’t make it. If I didn’t have to host this thing, I’d be at her place right now. I think she’s a bit freaked out.”

He placed his drink back on the bar. “I’ll go over and see her.”

“What do you want with her?”

This time he couldn’t hide his annoyance. “Enough with the third degree. I’m just going to check up on her. Unless you want her to be alone right now?”

Davina’s eyes narrowed. She was gauging him carefully to see whether he could be trusted or not. At first he had no idea which decision she landed on, but the eventual resignation gave her away. “Let her know I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Y/N’s not the type to admit when something’s wrong. With her, it’s like pulling teeth.”

“But she has a tell. When she’s upset, she buys shoes.”

“You’ve been sleeping with her for months and you don’t know what she likes?”

As much as Davina would love to keep Billy from Reader, she knows something happened and she knows a familiar face might help Reader in some way or another. Judging by the resignation, she probably wouldn’t be surprised if reader fell into bed with Billy while she’s vulnerable.

Anyhoo, I said it once and I’ll say it again. Billy has a lot to learn.

It was obvious Davina hated him, which made him wonder if that’s why you’d decided to cut him off so suddenly. He filed the question away in his brain, making a mental note to find out the answer from you at some point.

Read the room, Billy! For someone so smart, he has the emotional awareness of a rock. Maybe he’s thinking with the wrong head? That’s something to consider.

During that time when Billy visited reader, his takeaway should be paying attention to what the reader isn’t saying as well as what she is. At the gala, he pointed out that the reader is closed off. That should’ve given him some sign that there’s something more going on.

He cocked his eyebrow. “Maybe it’s just you I need to learn more about.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

Right now, if we’re heading towards the official end of the relationship (and, in the reader’s eyes, we are), this is the epitome of “too little, too late”.

“It’s never too late.” His eyes were suddenly intense, in a way you were only used to seeing when he was angry or turned on. “Maybe you can show up at my place one night, wearing that robe, your favourite heels and nothing else.”

Billy is pretty optimistic that they will still be together. Enough said.

“No. You don’t know what I like.”

He leaned forward, eyes seductively drifting down to your lips. “I have a pretty good idea of what gets you off.”

“Yeah, but what gets me off and what I like might be two different things.”

Billy, I like you but you really need to pay attention and take notes! Of course he would be observant on what gets reader off but has he ever observed her in a non-sexual but intimate way? Somehow, I doubt it.

“You grew up rich, didn’t you?” he taunted, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because only someone who has money would say it doesn’t matter.”

You laughed, chugging the remainder of your wine. If he only knew. “Sure, Billy.”

The fact that she doesn’t say anything more about her family should speak volumes. See the other receipts:

“You have a lot of pictures up,” he remarked. “But there isn’t a single one of you with your family. There’s no sign of them in your apartment.”

“I’m not close to my family.”

“So you and the fam don’t get along?” he probed.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Billy,” you whined, taking a sip of your drink. “I don’t want to talk about my family.”

The reader’s childhood is next-level levels of messed up. If her father was like that, I can only imagine how her mother is. And since she doesn’t have pictures of any of her family, I can say that her mother wasn’t Mrs. Brady.

One thing I can say about Billy is that at least he didn’t take advantage of reader while she was vulnerable.

Billy’s jaw was clenched with anger but you told yourself it wasn’t because of you. He was simply pissed Anvil’s competitor was still more successful despite their negligence.

Whether he knows it or not, he cares about her. Knowing the reader, she thinks that he’s more upset on behalf of Anvil as a form of self-preservation. If she were more secure about what they are to each other, she would know that he’s angry because she was in danger. Unfortunately, because she realized that she probably won’t be more to Billy than a bedwarmer, it’s dangerous for her to think that way.

Still, I have to admit that I liked how he just hugged her. Whether it was in comfort or to lead to something more...that’s going to be a problem in the next chapter. But, in that moment, he sensed Reader needing comfort and did something about it. That might be a smidgeon of growth right there.

Okay, wow, that was way longer than I thought. So, here are my final thoughts:

Billy’s an asshole but he’s our asshole and we love him. Even when he’s earnestly pursuing Reader, he’s still an ass. Reader is more guarded than ever because of the suppressed feelings she had for Billy combined with seeing him with Madani and her insecurities. It’s a horrible trifecta.

It doesn’t help that Billy’s pursuing her and attempting to woo her when all she wants is distance. He definitely has his work cut out for him because Reader isn’t going to make this easy. Aside from her childhood, she already had a sample of “fuckboy” Billy. She’s familiar with that version of him. And she wants more than a fuckboy. She wants more than that and she knows that Billy can’t give her that more. Naturally, she’s going to keep him at arms and legs length.

This constant push and pull is highly entertaining and I can’t wait to read more. I’m sorry this review was way too long and rambling but I couldn’t stop once I got going. I hope I wasn’t being too hard on Billy. I feel like I am. (I probably am.)

Love!

#nemesis responds #queen-haq #a woman scorned #answered asks

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rougebangtan · 4 years

Text

pairing: jungkook | reader

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

word count: 1.840

prompt: old rock + can fulfill the ghostie bingo prompt

warnings: there’s a little making out in the end, so if you don’t like that, please be warned.

You roll your eyes in annoyance at the man in front of you. It is the third consecutive week that he has come to the store without making any purchases. The young man always wore all-black outfits, and would come by in the afternoons, granting you the honor of his visits. He would browse the store, flicking obnoxiously through the CD’s and records for hours on end.

One thing you had to give credits where the credit was due, however, was his impeccable sense of style. He dressed himself in a very unique and pristine manner; even as he tried to look badass, he most certainly looked soft and innocent. The amount of detail he put on his looks was nothing short of admirable. You caught yourself more than once enthralled by the way his earrings would dangle on his lobes.

The shop you work in is in a rundown spot of the city’s downtown which, in turn, had caused you to see all kind of people. Not many where as pretty as the handsome boy that was showing up so often, but you weren’t going to allow yourself to be biased; his pretty privilege had already cut him a lot of slack. You’ve grown impatient with waiting. It’s already been close to a month and the guy hasn’t bought anything.

Sucking in a breath, you think about your options. You have two: you either ignore him or finally set him straight. The choice is clear to you since your mama didn’t raise you to be a quitter. You feel yourself marching towards him before your mind processes the closeness between the two of you. You have your resting bitch face on and that’s what you attribute his stunned expression to as he gets even more wide-eyed.

With a silent sigh, you observe how he shifts in his spot, his legs alternating which one sustains his weight. Oh, boy, now he’s anxious? If anything, it’s you who should be.

“Hi,” you utter with a blank expression plastered on your face, adopting the most authentic salesperson persona you can. “We usually rather to let your customers pick what they want themselves, but you seem kinda lost. I’ve noticed you come to the shop often… I was wondering if you need help?”

He shifts under your gaze, looking absolutely caught off-guard. “Hmm, yeah,” he agrees while his hand goes to scratch his nape in a deflective move. “I could use some help… sorry about always leaving empty-handed. I’m just a very indecisive person.”

You chuckle lightly at that. The boy is super cute. “What are you looking for, pretty boy?”

“A gift.” He answers, and something evil stirs inside of you. You’re going to hell for the thoughts that swirls in your mind.

“A gift? For who? A significant other? A friend?” You query, subtly gauging his relationship status, and he seems to pick it up quite fast.

“It’s for a friend. We’re in a band together, and this store has many LPs that he’d like to add to his collection.” He explains, but he doesn’t keep eye contact for too long.

His cheeks heat up at how intently you pay attention to him. You figured that if he’d just waltz inside your workplace during three weeks to buy something, you had the prerogative to make him squirm.

“I like this one better,” you say as you pick up the Queen LP. “Their music definitely tells a story… I’m not quite sure about the words to describe it, but it just makes you feel nostalgic. In a good way, though. Makes your heart beat a little faster.”

As he stays quiet, you continue to go off about your favorite music in order to give him some insight in what to buy.

“Whereas this one,” you lay the LP in your hands down to grab another. “is kind of a little chaotic. I won’t say it doesn’t grow on you, but it’s a hard one to wrap your head around. At least for me.” You admit with a shrug.

“It’s hard to really get into it every time I try to listen.” His eyes were wide when you said that, and the pink shade that tainted his cheeks had started to creep up to his ears.

“I will take that one, then. Jimin will probably like it. He’s a chaotic person, so the concept suits him.” The man nodded.

“You sure? Don’t you want to hear a few tracks before you make a decision?” You question him, not wanting to be the one to blame in case the LP turns out to be a bad choice.

When he nods again in reassurance, you comply and walk back to the cash register, so you can ring up his purchase. What you don’t expect, however, is when he mutters: “What’s your name?”

You grin at the sheepish manner that he asks for it, and you wish you could hold his face between the palm of your hands seeing as he looks adorable, even with the pretense badass look. “Y/n. And yours?”

“Jungkook,” he replies earnestly.

“Well, Jungkook, it’s nice to meet you. Here’s your LP,” you announce and hand him the record. “It retails for a total of $15,99.”

He reaches on his pockets after taking the LP from you, and drops a 20-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change,” he whispers once he watches you moving around the register.

You gape at him briefly before you watch as he begins shifting again, and you could drool when he bites his already very pink lips. It’s not difficult to notice he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how to, which is why you wait for him, Jungkook, with an expectant expression gracing your features.

“Thanks,” he settles on saying. Lifting the bag in hand, he clarifies. “For the LP, I mean.”

“You’re welcome,” you respond, a smile never leaving your face. “Thank you for your purchase. Hope you make good use of it.”

He still looks uncertain, but he nods and moves to the door to leave. “Yea, thanks again… Catch you a next time?”

It’s your turn to nod at his words. “Sure. See ya next time, Jungkook.”

When you return his hopeful sentiment, he beams, and as he makes his exit, you swear you could see a skip to his step.

Today was insanely hot, not even your outfit was helping, and you had chosen a smaller tank top paired with some bike shorts because of the weather. It’s been two weeks since you’ve last seen Jungkook, and your days felt like clockwork. You hated that he spent weeks coming to the shop, but as soon as he was confronted about it (very nicely, you add), he stops passing by.

You weren’t sure if it was the sweltering heat, but what you knew for certain is that the day passed in an agonizingly slow pace. You could count in your two hands how many people had entered the stop, and for that reason, you decided to close earlier. It wasn’t super early to close, though; it was only 10 minutes before your actual schedule.

When you get to the door, however, you’re met with a pleasant surprise. A scarcely dressed Jungkook is sweating in front of you, gasping for air, and his eyes twinkle in street’s lighting. He looks delicious, and the neediness you often feel quickly rekindles at the glorious sight you were gifted with.

“Y/n, hi!” He greets you, but you can see he’s still a little breathless.

‘Hi,” you greet back, second-guessing what you should do. You cave to the needy part of you that wishes to eye the boy for a longer while. “I was just about to close up… but you’re sweating buckets. Do you want a glass of water?”

He only signals in consent, and you step out so he could enter. You close the shop regardless, since that way you’d spare yourself of the trouble of leaving it open and Jungkook stays behind, watching as you do so.

After you give him a huge glass of ice-cold water, you observe him suspiciously. Resting against the counter, you wonder what was he doing there? His eyes are mesmerizing, and even as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, they never stray from your figure. You smile smugly to yourself. Your tank top left your bountiful cleavage on display as well as your back tattoos, and you’ve been proved that such combo had an interesting effect in men.

“What are you doing here, Jungkook?” You finally speak up when he stays silent. He seems surprised because his eyes, which were glued to your chest, are suddenly looking back at yours.

“Like what you see?” You tease.

He blushes at your statement and his hand soon find his nape. You noticed his recurrent mannerisms relied a lot on body language, and you could sense how shy the boy actually is around you.

“I forgot…” He mumbles with uncertainty, then shakes his head. “I didn’t know how to… askforyournumber.”

“What?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I didn’t know how to ask for your number.”

“Oh?” You gasp, then slowly stalk over to where he is. “Really? You should’ve told me… instead of coming to the show so many times, then vanishing.”

You watch in entertainment as his eyes widen so much, it looks like they could bulge out of their sockets. “Oh… I’m sorry about that.”

“How about this, Jungkook?” You say and your eyes flutter while staring at the beautiful boy, at the way his tongue moistens his lips. “You give me a kiss, and I give you my number. Would you like that?”

He nods repeatedly, eyeing your chest and tattoos wantonly. “Do you want to touch?”

Without saying anything, Jungkook touches the ink on your shoulders reverentially, his fingertips soon finding the crook of your boobs. You also put your hands on him, sneaking them underneath his shirt, and you swear you had to hold back a moan when you feel his pecs.

Needless of verbal communication, your lips brush against his, and he eagerly accepts the kiss. The pair of you kiss for minutes, his tongue brushes against yours sensually and you lose it when you feel Jungkook’s hard dick poke on your thigh. As you separate from one another, you realize you don’t want his manly hands to get off you.

Resting your hands on his chest while you gaze him through your lashes, you try to ask him out in the most nonchalant way. “Do you want to get out of here?”

His smile is blinding, and his hands grab your hips in reassurance. “I’d love to.”

The smile on your face is also uncontainable, so you rush to pick your stuff up and lock the backdoor. On your way out, you almost can’t believe you’re in fact walking hand-in-hand with the mysterious boy that thought dropping by at your work was a good flirting method.

If it was good, you didn’t know, but it was damn well effective.

a/n: Sammy !!! here it is, i envisioned the reader as you @breadoffoxy ily! Jester, @youarejesting, thank you for borrowing me your prompt. I hope to have done it justice. 🤍

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #bts drabble #bts scenario #bts fanfic #btsghostiewritersnet #btswriterscorner #heartsforbtsnet #btsgoldnet #btswritersguild #thehouseofbangtan #thetruthretoldnet #bangtanscenery

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highgaarden · 4 years

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131 for Catherine and Peter?

peter/catherine + can we just stay in bed? // this accidentally turned into a whole oneshot, whoops?? wrote this entirely in the answer box so excuse mistakes, if there are any.

black out days;

Upon Chekhov’s orders, Catherine is confined to bed. Peter sets about cheering her. (2156 words) (read on ao3)

day one

Catherine is carried into the palace, screaming treason.

Lady Svenska is nowhere to be found.

That is all she remembers before Chekhov puts her under.

day two

It’s a mundane sort of day in Russia where hunting is cancelled because of the pounding rain and nothing exciting happens except for Velementov accidentally tripping face-first over Marial’s dog, right into the ridiculously cream-frothed cake Peter wanted to have for breakfast.

In bed.

Despite the fact that Velementov had been pestering him all week to look over some maritime reforms, and Orlo had been pestering him about - he can’t remember. It’s Orlo. Who the fuck listens to Orlo?

“I, for one, think you should lend a more attentive ear,” Catherine mutters as she turns a page in her book.

“That’s because lending you books is the closest he will ever come to grazing a woman’s hand,” Peter points out, mouth full of cream. “How’s your ankle?”

“I can twitch it to the right with only excruciating pain.”

Peter eyes her bandaged foot. “And the left?”

“It is as if I am paralysed.”

“Interesting.”

“Indeed.”

“Is it just me,” Peter asks as he feeds her some cake, “or do you sound terribly bored?”

Catherine swats the spoon away. “No, Peter, I am just tired. I cannot imagine anything more delightful than having to spend four bed-ridden days--”

“Five,” Chekhov, who they had managed to successfully ignore for the past hour, says from one corner.

“Five bed-ridden days in the embrace of your apartments. With you.” Catherine smiles sweetly. “In it.”

“It is very strange how there was a sudden, awful smell coming from your room.” Peter says, observing a crumb studiously.

“Hmm.”

“Your hmm sounds rather displeased.”

“Merely contemplative.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? I sense as if--”

“You sense nothing. Perhaps it’s the reading material.” Catherine lowers her book. “It’s getting quite confusing.”

“Do you have a headache?” His question sounds a bit garbled because he’s pulling a spoon out of his mouth. “Chekhov!”

Chekhov waltzes over to her, back of his hand ready to gauge her temperature, which Catherine deflects as quickly as she had Peter’s spoon. “I am fine. Please stop hovering.”

“I will not,” Chekhov says, and strolls back to his seat.

Peter stops licking cream off his thumb and focuses his entire attention on her. “What is wrong, Empress? Is it the book? I have told you that Orlo is as dull as wet rocks - I will lend you some of my erotica.”

“No, I…” Catherine bites her lip, deliberating, before rolling her eyes. “It’s this word. Here. It doesn’t make sense syntactically, and I know my Russian comprehension is advanced.”

Peter looks to where she’s pointing and says, “Oh, that’s because you’re probably reading it wrong. The /за/ changes it into the instrumental case.”

Catherine stares at him. “You know grammar.”

“Mother used to bite chunks out of me if I stuttered during my revisions. Do not ask for Aunt Lisbeth’s recount of it; she will only lie and say I am exaggerating but it was the unadulterated truth and I still have proof of it.” He shakes back his sleeve. “Look.”

Catherine ignores the rather vicious-looking scar to ask, a bit suspiciously, “You are not jesting. So this man here is not actually running?”

“No, he is chasing moonshine.”

“What does that even mean?”

“That, my pure little wife, means drinking vodka.” Peter lifts his glass and grins. “Bit like that poetry you like, isn’t it?”

“Not really…” Catherine says, looking at him from the corner of her eye before returning to her book. “But it comes close.”

day three

Catherine wakes to sunshine filtering in through the curtains a maid has already pulled open. She stares longingly at the sprawling green, the effervescent sky, the loll of bodies dotting the estate like wildflowers.

“It’s a perfect day for a picnic!” Peter announces as he’s getting dressed. He looks at her for agreement as a serf does his buttons.

“It is,” Catherine says. Miserably.

“Chin up, Catherine. Want me to eat your pussy?”

“I--” Catherine swallows. “Chekhov says I’m not to be moved.”

“That is true.”

“Fuck off,” Peter snaps at the omnipresent doctor. “That is a pity. What will cheer you then?”

“Growing wings and flying far, far away,” Catherine says wistfully, eyes glazing over. She snaps back to reality. “Only - only because I am starting to feel claustrophobic.”

“Hm.” Peter mulls this over. “Very well. If you cannot go outdoors for a picnic, I shall bring the picnic to you.”

Catherine barely has time to utter a bewildered What? before Peter is already marching out the door with one boot unlaced, serf stumbling after him, hollering orders.

“He’s acting strange,” Marial mutters as she spreads the blanket usually reserved for lounging on grass onto the bed, carefully tucking it under Catherine’s foot. “Strange-er. Did I jostle--sorry. But look at him.”

“He’s certainly… chipper.” Catherine winces when the bed dips as Marial starts artfully placing fruit, bread, and various cheeses and dried meat around her. She takes a deep breath through her nostrils, leveling herself through the pain, before saying, “He’s been like this since he’s been sick.”

“Figures a near death experience would shake him out of his arseholery.” Marial straightens the blanket. “Fucker.”

Catherine shushes her; Peter strides into the room.

“Is it ready? Brilliant.” Peter clambers onto the bed with surprising care, not disturbing Catherine’s ankle one bit. Marial gives a stiff curtsey and makes for a quick exit, but she never quite makes it to the door, because Peter asks her to stay.

“What?” Catherine blinks.

“What?” Marial asks.

“Yes, stay. Catherine’s been cooped up too long with Orlo’s books which is a frightfully more effective sleeping draught than anything Chekhov can come up with. Come trade stories of the court with us.”

He motions at the bed.

“Us?” Catherine mouths.

“I, uh - sir,” Marial fidgets. “What makes you think - I am just--”

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “You had the sharpest ears and most vicious tongue when you were one of us.”

Marial’s cheeks flame red. Catherine disguises a laugh as a cough.

“Cheese tart?” Peter holds up in offer, before getting distracted by a particularly delectable piece of fig.

After a short bout of nonverbal exchange with Catherine, Marial finally, finally, gingerly sits a corner of herself onto the very foot of Peter’s bed. She wordlessly accepts the wine he passes her, and when he’s not looking shoots a confounded look at Catherine.

Catherine can only shrug, helplessly.

“How’s your father?” Peter asks, mouth full of bread and meat.

“Still shoveling shit,” Marial answers politely, holding her cheese tart.

“Brilliant. Glad he’s getting the hang of things. You are comfortable where we’ve placed you?”

Marial smiles thinly, still holding her cheese tart. “I can think of a few less comfortable places.”

“Nothing a new bed can’t change,” Peter dismisses. “Get Alexei to look into it for you. You know him? Warty fellow.”

“Are you going to eat your cheese tart?” Catherine asks, after getting over her own heart attack.

Marial puts it into her mouth but doesn’t chew it.

“Oh,” Peter says, before he forgets. “Chekhov, come have some of this cheese, you dusty cunt.”

Marial sneaks back into Peter’s bedroom when he’s taking his evening bath and hisses, “However it is you’re fucking him, keep doing it.”

“Well what the fuck is going on?”

Catherine drops her pamphlet in shock. “Marial, I am immobilised. A conveniently clumsy Lady Svenska smashed a ball right into my ankle. Do you really think I would be spreading my legs so easily?”

Catherine waves her hands inarticulately. “You tell me.”

“DOOR!”

Marial shoots Catherine one last look before scurrying out of there.

day four

The days go by in a flurry of activities.

One night Peter throws a party in his quarters, something of a pre-celebration to Catherine’s ankle healing soon. Catherine doesn’t see the point of it, but then again she doesn’t see the point of many things Peter does, and resolves to just smile through it.

It is surprisingly entertaining - Aunt Lisbeth brings aboard some acrobats at such short notice, and she is swathed in jewellery; draped in glittering, lush shawls, recent gifts from the Ottomans; perfumed and powdered; comfortable against gargantuan jewel-coloured cushions. She feels as if she sits upon a throne. Marial is there, predictably left out of the festivities, but Catherine notices Peter turning a blind eye when she accepts some pepper vodka from Archie.

Peter plays her a tune on his violin and with enough vodka (carefully monitored by Chekhov, who has been put in a ridiculous hat) she finds herself one of the most exuberant in applauding.

Leo regales the room with tales of rapture and romance and renegade Knights, his eyes careful not to linger on hers for too long. She feels every look like a blade.

She doesn’t even mind when Peter sits by her as she is being bathed by two maids in a portable copper tub, jibbering excitedly about the highlights of the night.

“You enjoyed it?” he asks, a bit too earnestly.

“Yes,” she answers, surprising herself. “It was fun.”

Peter looks down at his shoes, grinning. “Huzzah.”

He watches carefully as she is lowered into bed, and only then instructs for the candles to be put out.

“I do not know why you are complaining,” Peter says as he climbs in next to her. “I wouldn’t mind being in bed all day. It sounds fucking relaxing.”

“Some days aren’t so bad,” Catherine concedes, fluffing her pillow. “Good night, husband.”

“Good night, wife.”

day five

It is almost time.

Her imprisonment is almost at its end.

She slaps her just-finished book down onto the sizable stack next to her with a finality that seemed to echo through the room.

Five days in Peter’s bed was not five days of discomfort; of course his bed would be more plush, more decadent than hers, but she missed the simple luxuries that reminded herself of who she was amidst this chaos of Russian court life. Her mother’s pearl-handled comb. Her favourite paintings. The detailed espionage hidden behind the large tapestry that she, Orlo and Marial had spent the better part of three days organising.

She missed lounging around in the sunshine, watching birds flap across the sky. The feeling of wind in her hair.

Which is why she was up particularly early that morning, having read through the sunrise. Chekhov wasn’t even there yet. She was surprised - she almost thought he’d slept there, by the way his droll face greeted her everytime she awakened.

Peter is a wool-covered lump beside her. He’d gravitated closer towards her in the night, and she finds she doesn’t mind the warmth.

He stirs, blinking in the first rays of the morning light. “Catherine?”

“It looks to be a beautiful day,” she trills, turning her ankle in slow circles. A bit of residual pain, but she could limp at the very least. Bask in the garden, read poetry in the sunshine, and figure out a way to get Lady Svenska back during smash bottles. Maybe she’d lose her footing? No, that was a bit too obvio--

“S’it morning already?” Peter asks thickly. “That went by very fast.”

“Not fast enough for me,” Catherine says, turning wide eyes to the windows that she’d asked not to be shuttered that night. It had been colder than usual, and she was glad for Peter’s furnace-like feet, but she’d wanted to see evidence of her impending freedom with her own eyes.

Plus, some time away from Peter would be nice. He must be bored enough already--she certainly is quite ready to be done with the picnics and the teas and the parties and the reading sessions--

Wait.

Reading sessions.

Peter had scheduled reading sessions with Orlo, and had even ordered a new set of books she wanted when Orlo said he couldn’t find it in his library. They’d arrived that very afternoon, and she’d spent hours analysing footnotes with Orlo whilst Peter very badly hid how much he was snoozing.

Her eyes narrow.

“Shame,” Peter says, and breaks out into a massive yawn. “But at least there’s your party to celebrate your healing. I’ve called for a bear.”

“Bears are still a sore spot for me,” she reminds him.

“Right.” Peter rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Two bears then?”

Catherine snorts quietly. Her husband was an idiot, but at least he was a somewhat… nice idiot. Sort of.

She shifts in bed, delighting at how much easier it is now. She will never again be complacent around Lady Svenska.

“Today’s the day. I know it. I dreamt of it last night,” she tells him. “I am finally ready for some strenuous activity!” She almost seems to vibrate in the bed sheets.

“Marvelous,” Peter cheers sleepily. “Shall I eat your pussy?”

“I--” Catherine stares at him for a beat, before saying: “Alright.”

fin

leave me prompts from here + i’ll write something for you!

#peter x catherine #the great #peter x catherine fanfiction #the great fanfiction #hannah writes things #otp: my brilliant wife #otp: just a few weeks ago i was planning on killing you #Anonymous

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yangyeet · 4 years

Text

Is This Heaven (Final)

Pairing: Jaemin x Reader (ft. friends!Jisung & Donghyuck)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Status: Finished! Preview Here; Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here!

Prompt: In a world where people have their soulmate's name on their body somewhere, you find yourself caught in a dilemma that would result in a whirlwind of events. Are you ready to face this challenge in a world known to be cruel? Will you find your heaven in a place where people refuse to follow their hearts? Or will you fall as a victim to the legend?

Warnings: character death im sorry in advance

Word Count: 6.6K

Jaemin. Na Jaemin. That was the name of the person who had entered your life like a hurricane and left you on the edge of your seat, eager for more. He certainly was a whirlwind of a person. In under 24 hours of learning about his existence, he had managed to charm you through snapchat, meet you with a mysterious bullet wound, and was now about to tell you another grappling secret that you were sure would impact you significantly.

“Do you…do you perhaps know what The Dragon is?”

His eyes were uncertain, flickering from side to side. You could see that in the way that he started fiddling with his hands and bouncing his leg nervously.

“No,” you whispered, afraid that you’d break the boy if you spoke any louder. Jaemin peered into your eyes and then took one of your hands, lifting it to the scar on his shoulder that you had noticed earlier.

“As you know, a dragon traditionally can be very symbolic.”

You nodded your head. You recalled that Jisung would often talk about dragons, alluding them to his interest in mythology and their relevance in the modern world.

“Well, dragons can symbolize chaos. That’s the meaning we’re going for.”

“So let me guess, you’re a part of a gang that’s called The Dragon and that tattoo is a symbol for your gang, and it was supposed to be on your shoulder which is like one of those gang tattoo things. But there’s more to it.” You tried putting together every stereotypical piece of information that you could remember from the various dramas that you’d watched.

It seemed that you hit the bullseye when Jaemin patted you on the shoulder.

“Oh ho ho. You’re a lot smarter than I took you for.” He didn’t say that condescendingly. Rather, he was looking at you quite proudly as if he were saying that’s my girl.

“Thanks,” you responded, shying away from his gaze. “But what else is there?”

“Actually...everyone in the gang...we don’t have soulmates. We’re outcasts.” He was looking into your eyes, gauging your reaction to see if you’d be disgusted from his reveal.

You weren’t.

In fact, you were more concerned about one specific fact.

“Um...who’s in your gang again?”

“You know Haechan and Jisung are. And my friends Renjun, Jeno, and Chenle. One of our members, Mark, just went on hiatus for a bit to go to a university abroad.”

“So...you all don’t have a soulmate?”

He shook his head. “That’s why we had all tattooed a dragon on ourselves to show we’re the hidden chaos amidst the fake peace. Mine just got removed for a mission a while back.”

“What about Park Jisung?”

“No..he doesn’t have a soulmate. Why?” Jaemin was starting to look a bit perplexed. He looked honest and you completely believed him. Of course, that didn’t have anything to do with the nagging crush in the back of your mind. But you were convinced that he was correct.

“He told me he had a soulmate. I met her too...”

“She’s probably a fake.” Ah. You finally understood a bit of what was going on. If the girl was a fake you could completely understand where he was coming from. A lot of the wealthier families chose to fake a soulmate for their child if they didn’t show signs of a soulmate mark. As long as the person didn’t fall in love, they were free to act however they wanted to; usually, families just bought a fake for inheritance purposes. Nothing more and nothing less.

However, even if that was the case, Jisung would have known that he did not have a real soulmate. He looked so in love whenever he talked about her though. If so…

No, you didn’t want to think about it. That would be playing with fate. And that wasn’t okay...right? It’s not like you were doing the same thing at the moment.

Jaemin was ignorant of your inner conflict and chose to push the topic of the younger aside. “So...I just wanted to say that things haven’t gone as properly as I would’ve liked. Would you like to go on a date with me when I recover? A proper one?” He looked into your eyes earnestly and who were you to deny the handsome boy?

“Of course! Gotta give you time to heal. Also...I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?” He quirked his head to the side like a curious puppy and you would have laughed if you didn’t feel like you were about to reveal the most intimate secret about yourself.

You chose to whisper the secret, afraid of the ears on the walls. “I don’t have a soulmate either.”

He didn’t look shocked. In fact, he looked kind of relieved. “Two people without soulmates meet each other. What a story, huh.”

You nodded your head. “Well, I’m glad we got that much off our shoulders. Introduce me to the rest of the gang later?”

“They’re not the best people, but we’ll see. The sun’s rising right now, but let’s sleep in. You don’t have any obligations in the morning, right?”

“Nah. Let’s sleep.”

______________________

The week passed by just like that and you went on the date as promised. He took you to a bowling alley and then a high-end restaurant, showing off his earnings with a reserved table for the two of you. In a way, it was very much like him to shower you in his affection and love by giving you the best possible experiences he could provide. He even gifted you a metal ring that he claimed would protect you from harm’s way, even though you had no idea what he meant by that. Later, you learned that it could be part-blade and part-GPS with a small chip. You were overwhelmed at his gestures, but happy that he had considered you lovely enough to shower you with his love.

Even after the date, Jaemin stayed at your apartment to avoid going out and getting caught by the mysterious enemy. He didn’t explain what his mission was, but he did tell you enough for you to conclude that it was dangerous.

To be honest, living with Jaemin wasn’t too bad. Sure, he was overly affectionate and clingy and slightly dependent on you due to his injury, but it wasn’t overbearing. He had his own quirky way of drawing you in.

You noticed that he really wasn’t a man of too many words. The explaining he had done in the first two nights seemed to be the most he had ever said to you. He chose to show you his feelings through his actions. Some mornings, you would wake up to the wonderful aroma of breakfast wafting to the bedroom. Before you could take a step beyond the blankets, Jaemin would burst into the room with a smile on his face and a bounce in his steps. In his hands would be a tray of warm food, along with some juice, water, and any utensils you’d require for the meal.

Since his shirt was ruined, you had let him borrow the clothes that Jisung had left on the occasional sleepovers and they were adorably a bit too large on him. Jaemin would always joke about how the baby was the one who’d grown the most over the past few years. You’d laugh and agree, remembering how the younger was the chubbiest, most adorable child you’d ever seen.

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to exchange childhood stories and banters from crazy experiences in the past either.

He’d talk about his best friends who would always be bound by his side: Jeno, Renjun, and Haechannie. Jeno was the strong figure in his life who had gone through the most terrible storms, but would fight through each and every one of them. The two would have their on and off fights, but they’d try to get along for the peace of the group. Renjun’s art could even make the Mona Lisa smile, according to Jaemin. And Haechannie was the happy virus with a knack for bringing the mood up. Jisung had joined the group after his hacking abilities had caused Jeno a headache. They took the younger in due to his talent and they became a happy family. And of course, he never forgot to bring up Mark, the Canadian kid who nearly threatened to quit the gang due to “Donghyuck’s persistent skinship.”

You laughed at his tales and would respond back with some stories of your own. You’d talk about the time that Jisung had scraped his knees and instead of telling anyone about it, he came up to you and told you that he was an immortal superhero with the strangest powers. Or the time you chased the younger around with a worm in your hand.

Jaemin’s eyes sparkled as you told him various stories of the past. He responded by saying that you looked like you had hearts popping out of yours whenever he’d speak. You’d like to disagree with that, but you knew it was true.

And when it came time to change the bandages, Jaemin would come up to you with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster and pout until you got up. You wouldn’t ever keep him waiting and always had the first-aid supplies ready for whenever he needed them.

Whenever it was time for you to cook dinner, he’d sit on the dining table and just gaze at your figure, absentmindedly admiring you. Most of the time, you’d catch him in his hazy state and point out how the hand leaning against his head caused his cheeks to mush up and turn red. He’d deny that and start arguing how you were just distracting and he really didn’t care about what happened as long as he could keep looking at you forever.

And sometimes, it’d just be you and Jaemin cuddling on your sofa with some Lo-Fi music playing in the background. It was safe to say that you had grown used to having another individual in the house. You were living a much livelier life with him around.

It wouldn’t always be the two of you in the apartment alone. Haechan would sometimes pop by to make sure that everything was alright. The first time he came around, he brought the tattered shirt and threw it at Jaemin’s face, telling him that it was beyond his ability to repair. The second time he came, he caught the two of you snuggling and nearly launched himself at Jaemin for taking advantage of his friend. You put yourself in the middle and gave him a cheeky smirk that he easily turned away from.

In the chaos that was now your life, you surprisingly noticed that Jisung hadn’t bothered to contact you this whole time. He knew you were in a rough spot, so why didn’t he contact you? Maybe he found out you met Jaemin and was mad at you? That still didn’t excuse his absence.

So as you sat across from Jaemin, you dialed his number in hopes of finding out the reason. One ring passed...then another. He strangely still didn’t pick up. Jisung would always pick up your call, even if he was in the middle of class. You tried again, hoping that it was a mishap and you made a mistake, but you still ended with the same result.

“Um, Jaem?” The boy hummed.

“Jisung isn’t picking up.”

“Wait what? He always picks up, though.” Jaemin pulled out his own phone and dialed the number, waiting until the call went to voicemail before looking at you.

You got up from your spot. “I’m going to go to his house.”

He shook his head. “That’s dangerous. I’ll go.”

“You’re still injured,” you reminded him as you grabbed your bag and the pepper spray that was laying on the table beside it. “His house is here, and there’s still light outside. Don’t worry too much.”

Jaemin didn’t look too sold on the idea of you going outside when you were practically harboring an outcast in your home, but he respected your decision and finally resigned. “Okay, but stay on Facetime with me the entire time. I want to see you safe, baby.”

You almost cooed at the pet name and walked up to him, giving him a chaste kiss on his forehead. He wrapped his arms around your waist and gave you his infamous puppy eyes. “Call. Now.” Rolling your eyes, you video called him and watched him pick it up,

After he was satisfied, you walked out and closed the door securely, making sure that no intruder could break in from the outside. It wasn’t a typical occurrence in your neighborhood, but you were never too sure about that.

The walk to Jisung’s house didn’t take too long and Jaemin stayed on the call as promised, telling you the most obscure facts so you wouldn’t get bored. When you arrived at his place, you could hear voices from inside the house. You gave a signal for Jaemin to quiet down and placed your ear against the door. You knew eavesdropping was rude, but hey, if you got any information from it…

You could hear three male voices, one of which belonged to your friend. The other voice that was currently talking was deep, not as much as Jisung’s but still comparable. He seemed to be talking in a soft manner, not raising his voice.

“...it’s...don’t worry....bomb….detonated and...got her and I’m....Jaemin…” The ending fizzled out and you could only make out a few words.

Another hushed voice spoke up, sounding like pure honey. “...he’s right. Also, I think we’ve got a visitor.” The voice sounded much closer and you didn’t have time to back up before the door swung open. You were met with a tall male with bleached hair, his dark roots showing prominently. He looked at you with piercing eyes, looking as if he were ready to eliminate you without hesitation.

Another male walked up behind him, taller and much more intimidating than the first despite his calming aura. His dark hair was a sharp contrast to his milky skin, and his fingers were adorned with rings. However, the next thing you noticed was a dragon tattoo on his biceps, peeking out under the loose t-shirt he was wearing.

“Are you looking for someone?” He asked briskly, clearly wanting to get this conversation over with quickly

The other boy looked offended that he had the audacity to ask you the question. “Jeno, what if she’s a spy?”

“Well, Renjun, let’s give her a chance. She already knows our names thanks to you.”

Renjun just huffed and looked at you. “So, spill.”

“Wow, rude,” you commented, rolling your eyes for a dramatic effect. “Also, I’m looking for Park Jisung. This is his house, after all.”

You heard a sniffle from the background. “Let her in. It’s just (Y/n).” Giving a smirk directed to the boy at the door, you let yourself in and took your shoes off before running to the boy.

“Jisungie, I’m here for you.” You heard a muffled audio vibrate in your pocket and realized that you had left Jaemin hanging. “Jaemin is here too. What happened?”

Jisung looked absolutely heartbroken. He was struggling to contain his tears and you pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s okay. Let it out.” You stayed there in that position, hugging as the two boys behind you awkwardly shuffled around and grabbed some water.

The taller, Jeno, tapped you on the shoulder and held up two bottles of water. “It’s a sorry...for how I acted before. Also Jisung might get dehydrated from all this crying.” You accepted the beverage gratefully and rubbed the sobbing boy’s shoulders before prying him off of you.

“Drink,” you commanded.

Renjun moved to squat beside you and handed the younger a tissue box. He turned to you. “Sorry I was harsh to you too. How do you know Jisung?”

Ah, he was straight to the point. Well, as long as he acknowledged you weren’t dangerous, it’d suffice.

“They’ve known each other since they were kids,” Jaemin shouted through your phone speaker.

“I keep forgetting you’re here,” you snorted.

“How rude.” You could practically hear him pout as he said that.

Renjun, on the other hand, was pretty interested. “Jaemin, Jeno told me you got shot?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied. “It was a fake.” You heard Jisung cough in the background.

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay. Stay on the down low for a bit,” Jeno spoke firmly. You could hear a leader like vibe radiating from him. It was scary.

“Yes, sir,” Jaemin quipped. “Ight, (Y/n), imma head out.” With that meme worthy exit, he hung up on you.

Jisung seemed to finally calm down and was breathing normally, almost a look of determination in his eyes. “(Y/n)-”

“Uh... does she know?” Renjun interrupted.

“The Dragon?” You responded, wanting to show him that you did have some knowledge. “Yeah, I do.”

Jeno quirked his eyebrows and plopped down beside you. “So you know I’m the temporary leader while Mark is out?” Well, no you didn’t. But that made sense.

“I assumed that.” He seemed to like your reply and then gave you a little smile.

“Our maknae...baby Jisung, he received terrible news from an incident that occurred not too long ago.” You leaned in to hear him closer, as if the distance would clear up your curiosity. “His soulmate received a bugged package that exploded. It was on impact…”

You heard a whimper and saw Renjun patting the younger on the shoulder.

“When did it happen?” You asked. “Specifically?”

“Last week. Um, about six days ago? At night, around eight?” You gasped. That timing seemed familiar to you. A bit too familiar.

“Who did it?”

“We don’t know. Our intelligence can’t determine how it got to her hands.” This time, it was Renjun who responded.

“Jisung, can’t you use a tracker or hack a camera to figure that out?”

He shook his head, puffy eyes meeting yours for the first time that day. “I sent that package. I didn’t know she’d get it. I-I fell in love with her too.” He quickly gasped before covering his mouth.

“I know,” you said. “I know you don’t have a soulmate.”

“You’re a smart girl,” Jeno commented. “We can use you.” You didn’t know whether to respond to that as a compliment or to fight him, so you did the next best thing: ignore him.

“Well, I guess I signed up for this in a way,” he responded, downcast.

You sighed. This wasn’t good. You were finding yourself in a similar predicament as him and you were afraid to find out what would happen if you treaded the same path.

The rest of the day dwindled just like that: Jisung mourning with the three of you trying to console and comfort him. You learned more about Jeno and Renjun and obtained all their socials as well.

When you arrived back home, Jaemin welcomed you with open arms and a wet smooch to your cheeks. Haechan, who probably arrived a bit after you left the call, was sitting adjacent to you guys in the living room looking grim. You were surprised to see him so serious, not even breaking out of character to strangle Jaemin for his affection.

“How’s Jisung doing?”

“Fine. It’ll take a while to get over it.”

Jaemin nodded understandingly and brought you down to sit next to the other boy, handing you some pizza bites and mozzarella sticks. You thanked him and ate properly for the first time that day.

Haechan observed you grabbing the cheesy snack before swooping in and taking a big bite from the piece in your hand. You glared at him.

“(Y/n), I found out some information that you wouldn’t like to hear.”

“What?” You asked.

“Jisung’s girlfriend received the package. But that was one of my packages. And I can guarantee you that it did not have any explosives when I sent it out.”

You must’ve looked really perplexed because both boys broke out in light hearted laughter.

“Don’t make that face,” Jaemin finally spoke. “You’re so cute, I might eat you up instead.” You nearly threw up at his cheesiness and threw a stick at him. Lucky for him, he caught it in his mouth and scrunched his nose at you. “Nice try, baby.”

Haechan gagged. “You two are disgusting.”

The two of you chuckled in response before you decided to talk about the elephant in the room. “So you’re saying that the package was bugged?”

“By who?” Jaemin inquired. The other boy shook his head. You all decided to leave the matter hanging in the air and ate to your heart’s content before retiring for the night. Haechan waved you two goodbye and left as you got ready for bed.

By now, you were more than comfortable to sleep with Jaemin and his injury was healing quite well. He was the little spoon today, seemingly more sensitive than before. You combed your hand through his hair. “What’s wrong?”

“That...what if that package was the one I sent?”

Oof. You had speculated that he’d arrive at this conclusion. So had you.

“It could be.”

“But who spiked it?”

“Dunno.”

Those were the only words exchanged before sleep lulled you both into the realm of sleep. This time, the dream you had was even more frightening. You were in a room that was dark and cold. You couldn’t see a single thing beyond the stone walls and that terrified you. It seemed so realistic. The musty basement smell that permeated the air was giving you nausea in your dream.

A brown dragon swirled around, moving in before attempting to wrap around you. You tried so hard to free yourself, but it was becoming harder to breathe with each passing minute. Feeling a spark of hope, you yelled into the void and woke yourself up to the morning light. Except, it wasn’t morning light. It was the bright light from a bulb above that flickered tic, tok, tic, tok, until it too went out.

That was how you found yourself stuck in your current predicament. You had a vague recollection of getting thrown out of a car and walking into a warehouse, the general directions fuzzy to you. There wasn’t much more that you could recall, detail-wise.

After a few minutes, you heard shuffling and a resounding thud against the door. The person let out curses as they struggled opening the knob and resorted to kicking the door down. It went silent for a couple of seconds and you were afraid that the guards had woken up and decided to fight back. You moved your feet in an attempt to move a bit farther from the door, in case there was an enemy who would barge in.

Feeling all hope of your rescuer disappearing, you let out a sob. “Please, please hurry.”

Although your hands were free, your feet were still bound to the chains and you couldn’t go far without making a ruckus. It was futile but you tried to bang the shackles against the floor of the mini prison. There wasn’t much point in doing that, but you wanted to somehow reassure the person on the other side (if they were alive) that you were still kicking and alert of their presence.

You heard a click and a creak of the door, signaling the person had gotten through. Blinding light filled your vision and you squeezed your eyes shut. You heard a figure run towards you and fall to their knees, hugging you tightly.

“You’re safe now. I won’t let them hurt you. Not ever. I got you.”

“J-Jaemin?” You’d recognize that voice anywhere. He spilled apologies, putting his head on top of yours and rubbing his hand on your back to comfort you. Jaemin held onto you as if you were the last thing he’d ever hold and that was bringing tears to your eyes.

“I’m so happy to see you,” you admitted, sniffling and slowly opening your eyes to adjust to the scenery around you. The two of you were in the damp cell, with the only source of light coming from the open door in front of you. Miraculously, the guards who had initially brought here (assumingly) were lying unconscious on the ground, mouths hanging open as if they had been taken by surprise.

“I thought I lost you,” he confessed. “I can’t believe I hurt you. It’s my fault, but I have to make this right.” He pulled out a tool from his pant pocket and swiftly waved it, revealing a lock-picking point. You understood his intention and turned around, putting your bound feet onto his lap. He made quick work on the bindings, easily twisting and shifting through the locks until they fell apart.

You sighed in relief at the feeling of blood rushing through your legs and massaged them. He raised his eyebrows at you and let out a laugh in the ironic moment.

“You freed your hands by yourself? That’s my girl,” he complimented, pressing a kiss to your cheek before standing up and giving you a hand. “We don’t have time. Jisung’s waiting with the car.” Time was of the essence. This wasn’t a time to become sentimental, so you wiped your tears as you stood up, accepting his hand.

The two of you cautiously took a step outside the room and looked both ways as you headed down the hall. Your getaway route was easy. Just a left, then a sharp turn to the right, and the door would be straight to the right. A couple of stairs would lead to the entrance of the warehouse and you could escape from the abandoned building. You had memorized the route when you were brought into the warehouse and Jaemin followed your instructions, trusting your memory. When you asked him how he entered, he replied that he simply popped down from the roof and that the helicopter had flown away already.

Learning enough about him to know that it wouldn’t do you any good to bother asking question about his methods, you squeezed his hand and moved forward. He reciprocated the action and pulled you closer to him as you neared the edge. Jaemin peered past the opening and signaled that it was clear. Honestly, you were surprised. You hadn’t expected it to seem this easy.

It seemed that your anxiety agreed. Adrenaline was pumping through your body and you could hear sharp noises of what seemed like a rat scurrying through the pipes. Your nerves were practically on fire at each movement you took through the hallways, but it seemed that you had nothing to worry about as you arrived at the door.

“Not bad, huh?” Jaemin whispered with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Have you never watched dramas? No protagonist says that.”

“Shh, nerd,” he replied. But as he pushed the door that says pull, you let out a snort.

“Yeah, I’m the nerd here. At least I know how to open doors,” you retorted, pushing his aside to open the door.

The rickety metal stairs were slightly rusty, but they looked in good enough shape to walk in. You placed all your bets on a line as you inched forward onto the platform, hoping that there’d be no noise. Jaemin walked behind you, one hand hovering over your waist as he looked below in search for any enemy.

Going down the stairs was tricky. The shadow of the warehouse masked the two of you well enough that you wouldn’t be in direct sunlight. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of noise from the steps and you finally made your way down to the last step.

Jaemin suddenly paused in his step, sniffing the air. You turned to look at him.

“What?”

“Shit, we’ve been bamboozled. Can’t you smell it?”

You looked up and smelled the air, sensing the musty smell of an old moldy basement. However, you could faintly smell something else like rotten eggs. Was that something that should strike you as odd? “Smell what?”

“We’re gonna have to try to run for it, but it’s dangerous.” You looked at him, stunned, but nodded your head nonetheless.

“Now?” He mumbled a yeah and the two of you took off to the opening of the warehouse. As soon as you were halfway to the exit, there was a thud and the giant cover slammed down. You were completely engulfed in darkness.

Jaemin was still holding your hand, but you could feel him shaking.

As bright lights turned on, you found yourself surrounded by a group of thugs. A familiar face walked out of the crowd and stood in the center, holding a gun cockily and giving you two a smirk.

“Well, well, well. Look who we caught.” His voice sounded as if he had calculated the end result of a simple game of chess - only that game of chess was in his favor and he was about to declare a checkmate anytime soon.

You almost felt your jaw drop. “Is that...no way?”

Jaemin, on the other hand, didn’t look too surprised. Rather, he looked angry. This was not the outcome he wanted and he felt betrayed. There was no way either of you could have stopped this in the end. “Jisungie-”

“Don’t call me that,” the younger snapped. The heels of his boots echoed through the warehouse as he approached you and lifted your chin with the butt of his gun.

“Who do you think sent you the wrong information the other night?”

You heard an audible gasp beside you and saw Jaemin’s eyes widening in realization. “That’s why the deal busted. Even though I made sure it was safe.” He lowered his hands down to his abdomen as if he were still feeling the aftermath of the phantom pain resonating in his body.

Jisung chuckled and waved his hands around. “No, no, no, you have it all wrong, You didn’t make sure it was safe. I made sure it wasn’t safe.” He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out two pairs of earplugs. One had the signature engraving that Renjun usually drew on his raw material. The other was a counterfeit, quite similar to the other, but missing the symbol.

“You gave me a fake? That cost your girlfriend her life!” Jaemin was raising his voice and you could sense him visibly losing his cool. The other men who were standing guard immediately pointed their weapons at him to warn him from acting foolishly. You were at a disadvantage and if you didn’t get out soon, this would go downhill very quickly.

There was a sliver of hope in your mind that the ring on your finger was still working well enough in the abandoned region to gain satellite positioning and alert your other friends where you guys were. However, you knew that Jisung also had access to the technology and he probably would’ve found a way to shut it down.

At this point, Jaemin looked like he was about to lunge at Jisung, weapon or no weapon, and he probably would have done it if you didn’t put an arm on his shoulder. “Not now,” you said rationally. With his head practically being a red target for the enemy, you knew that any rash actions would lead to your demise.

His gaze pierced into yours before he relaxed, stepping back and taking a deep breath. The tension in the room was high and Jisung seemed to enjoy this turn of events.

“(Y/n), I’m so glad to see you making the right decision,” he praised you.

You were gritting your teeth at his comment. “That doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook. Why are you doing all of this?”

He rolled his eyes before mocking you in a high pitched voice. “Have you ever been in my shoes?”

Jaemin huffed. “Here we go with the dramatic villain monologue…”

Jisung ignored him and continued his rant, posing with one hand on his hips and the other waving his gun in the air. You’d have to admit that he looked a little cute when he was mad, only if you ignored the situation that you were in and pretended that you were all shooting a film instead. His pout only made him look like a child who was throwing a tantrum to his parents.

“I’ve always been the underdog. What do I do? Sit around with a bunch of monitors and track people or things while breaking into firewalls all day. Do you know how boring and tedious that is?”

“Uh yeah, that’s what a hacker does,” Jaemin mumbled.

“And you know what the saddest part is? I wasn’t there for the love of my life when she died. Because I have more ‘important’ things to do. And you know who killed her?” He was starting to pace back and forth.

You were getting nervous at his actions. Forget about his big motive reveal, you had never heard the usually docile boy talk this much and felt sad that you weren’t there to comfort him at his most vulnerable time. “Who?” You asked, even though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

“Our gang. Jaemin...you were assigned to kill her.”

This time, it was Jaemin’s turn to be shocked. “W-what? I didn’t kill her. I didn’t know,” he denied the accusation.

“Jaems...” You looked at him.

He shook his head. “Honest to god, I did not. Why would I do that to my baby? If only I’d known-”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t have the right to call me that anymore.” Jisung was practically shaking from anger and a sadness that was bubbling slowly to the surface. “They told you to deliver a package-“

“Oh my-no way. Jisung, is it possible that the hidden explosive was made from someone in the group?”

The boy nodded. “Yes. It was. She didn’t see it coming and neither did I when I sent you the location and told you to leave. I didn’t...I didn’t know she’d be the receiver and people would stop you from checking the contents before delivering it.”

You knew that this conversation wasn’t about you, but you did know you’d have to do something quick. Not quite thinking straight, you stepped in the middle.

“Ji-she’d never want you to do this. How were either of you supposed to know?”

“He should’ve known!” Jisung yelled back. You flinched at his outburst. “Whenever we send packages, it’s always-“ His sentence faded with a choked sob. He was broken. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

Beside you, Jaemin looked helpless and absolutely gutted. He had caused his best friend pain without even realizing what he was doing and now he was stepping on a minefield with every passing second. He looked so conflicted as if he wanted to help him, but he couldn’t. Jisung was so broken.

You took a deep breath and walked up to the younger boy. All signs of hostility had left his body and he was hunched over in pain. Even though you had suffered a bit at his hands, he was still the one who’d hold you close and console you whenever you were down. You figured that unlike Jaemin, you had a chance to get closer and disarm the boy in his moment of weakness.

Your assumption was correct as Jisung immediately crumpled into your hold and let out all of the pain he’d been holding back.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled over and over as you tried to hush him. A soft thump resounded against the concrete ground as he let go of his weapon.

“Why’re you sorry?” Jaemin cautiously approached you two and hovered his arms around you both, checking to make sure he wouldn’t get attacked by anyone before he engulfed you two in a tighter hug.

Jisung only sobbed louder and mumbled something under his breath that you strained to hear. “Huh?” You asked.

“Issa trap. I’m so sorry” Although his voice was muffled against your shirt, you could understand his speech. Jaemin also seemed to understand what he was saying this time and he looked at you, his eyes widened.

Before you could adjust to this new information, you heard the sound of a magazine being inserted and a couple of bullets ringing out, eliminating all the guards.

The Dragon, or should you say the leader of the gang. Lee Jeno, stared coldly at your little circle. His gun was pointing at Jaemin, the red pointer clearly indicating a small mark at your boyfriend's left shoulder.

“Good job, Jisung. You’re the perfect little agent.” Jisung whimpered in your hold and held you tighter, if possible. He was afraid. It was safe to say that you were too.

Jeno had this crazed look in his eyes as he glanced at Jaemin. “You’ve ran for long enough. It’s time for you to go. Any last words?”

The boy stared defiantly back in response. “I’m not dying. My girl, best friend, and I will make it out of here.” He didn’t seem too sure of those words as his voice wavered.

Jeno huffed at the retort. “You sound unsure of yourself.” He was taking small steps and walking over with his gun never leaving the mark.

“Don’t kill him,” you spoke up. “You need to let go of this delusioned idea you have of people. Not everyone is like you.”

“So? I couldn’t get my love. Why should he? You know what happens to those who defy fate. I was meant to be your obstacle,” he reasoned, almost trying to convince himself why he was doing this.

You found a weak spot in his hesitance and decided to strike. “If this is about soulmates, you can learn to love again. Love comes in all shapes and forms. If you weren’t destined for a lover, then love your friends. Love the people around you. If you can’t do that much, how could you live knowing that you hurt so many of your own gang member’s chances at love?”

“It’s all jealousy,” he shouted back. Jeno was less than a meter away from you by now. Pure adrenaline was pumping through your blood and you were ready to fight-or-flight. The fear from earlier was dissipating into a feeling far more rushing.

Jaemin stood up from his spot beside you as he and Jeno were now finally face to face. “We were like brothers. I’m sad to see you’ve chosen this path.” He sounded disappointed as if he were scolding a child rather than facing death in the eyes.

Jeno just chuckled and thumbed at the activator. “Do you know why they say you shouldn’t defy fate?” You squeezed your eyes shut just before you could see Haechan, Renjun, and Chenle burst through the opening and reach out to stop the boy.

But it was far too late.

He shot.

You finally realized why they always told you to never break the soulmate rule. The one who you loved would always die.

You had averted your eyes to avoid watching Jaemin fall to the ground, clutching his shoulder - or should you say, his Achilles heel. It wasn’t quick. It wasn’t painless either.

The boys had reached you guys way too late. It was kind of ironic. They said heroes would always be there in time to save you, but they never did. You couldn’t be the one to divert fate.

It was almost as if a crescendo background music had ceased. The blood rushing through your body from pure adrenaline was almost deafening at this point but there was no way you could miss his body dropping to the floor.

But there was no way you missed how Jaemin crawled to hold your hand and tell you he loved you and he would continue to love you in every life. He said he’d go meet you every time, even if he didn’t have a soulmate mark, because he knew you’d be the only one for him.

Haechan had later seized Jeno’s weapon and wrestled him to the ground. Nothing, however, could change the fact of the events that transpired. The gang decided to eliminate their current leader and reinstate Mark, who’d been angry at the news. It wasn’t a very happy ending, but you were satisfied that the boys stayed by your side.

Later, much much later, Jisung held you in his arms as Jaemin’s passing finally hit you. Oh, how the roles were reversed. It just wasn’t fair. Not at all. Such a beautiful life had been taken from Jaemin before he could truly experience life all because he dared to fall in love.

Now you were determined to hold on to the sliver of life just to keep living for him out of spite. Even if you weren’t meant to fall in love, you had met an angel who dared to show you what heaven was like. Sure it wasn’t ideal and it burned fast, but you had enjoyed the ride. You wouldn’t cry anymore. No, you were over it. It was time to pick yourself up and be strong, for yourself and for Jaemin.

Tag list (i’ll try to do this for my next series): @markleeswifeee

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shipmistress9 · 5 years

Text

FTLOAP: Chapter 35: I Will Be Right Here Waiting For You

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3:

Chapter 34

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

I again want to invite everyone who is interested to athingofviking's Discord server. It's growing constantly and slowly turning into a general HTTYD fan server. You can find the invite like above.

This week's title comes from the song 'Right Here Waiting' by Richard Marx. For this chapter, I was actually looking for an extremely cheesy title (because... reasons) and listened through a playlist of rock ballads. Let's just say... I cried a lot! xD In the end, I choose this title then. It's probably not quite as dramatic as the song, but I thought the line fit nicely anyway. ^^

. o O o .

Absentmindedly, Hiccup brushed over the spot on his arm where he could still feel Astrid’s touch. Last night, she’d gripped him so tightly that her fingers had left bruises. Smiling to himself as he groomed Chomp, he mused about how it must have hurt at the time, at least a little, but he couldn’t remember the pain by any stretch of the imagination. As always, being with her had been perfect, and those bruises were nothing but sweet reminders of their time together.

Although, if he wanted to avoid other bruises of a less pleasant nature, he’d better focus on the big horse in front of him. Of all his charges, Chomp was the most aggressive, and it was probably only thanks to the months they’d spent in close proximity that the stallion hadn’t used Hiccup’s distracted state for his own advantage.

With a hint of nervousness, Hiccup thought about why he had to groom Chomp to perfection today. Any minute now, Eret and Dagur would arrive, and bringing with them Snotlout of House Jorgenson, Chomp’s new owner. Hiccup couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person he was. He’d heard lots of stories about him by now, back during his time on Berk from the occasional merchant and during his years searching for information from the talkative men in the taverns, and then more funny and personal ones from Eret, Dagur, and Astrid over the last few months. All those stories had painted a certain picture of the man, whom Hiccup had never met despite their connection.

He didn’t need to wait long before the men arrived, Dagur’s booming laughter giving Hiccup warning of their approach.

"Morning, Hiccup," Eret greeted him with a tired smile as they came into view.

"Good morning, my lords," he replied, bowing. He was holding formal behaviour with a bit more enthusiasm than usual, and more earnestly. Carefully, he glanced at the new man following Dagur into the stables. He was short, certainly the shortest of them all, but far more bulky than Hiccup at least. He clearly was a trained warrior, muscles shaped by fights and practice. His black hair was relatively short, even though Hiccup still noticed that it had a familiar unruly streak to it. His face was neutral, polite but not really interested, as the man's eyes glided over him, noticing and dismissing him at the same moment. To Snotlout, Hiccup was nothing more than a lowly servant.

Hiccup glanced at Eret. So they hadn't told Snotlout anything yet. That was good, Hiccup supposed, but it certainly couldn't stay that way. Sooner or later, he would notice something anyway, so they had better tell him directly before he drew his own conclusions. He gave Eret a small nod, which he returned after a moment's hesitation.

With a bit of a smirk, Eret gestured from one of them to the other. "May I introduce? Sir Snotlout, ducal heir of House Jorgenson. And this is my squire, Hiccup..."

Hiccup could practically feel the tension hanging between them, how not only he but Dagur and Eret as well had their eyes on Snotlout, gauging his reaction.

At first, the expression on Snotlout's face barely changed. "Nice to meet you. Hiccup, eh? With that name, I guess you're from the North?"

"I am, Sir," Hiccup replied, directly meeting the other man's gaze. He could see the moment Snotlout noticed that something was off. Hiccup didn't know whether it was because Eret and Dagur were still staring at them or because Hiccup met his eyes without the usual deference of a servant, but it was as if something in Snotlout's eyes changed, something shifted, clicked into place.

"Hiccup you said?"

Hiccup nodded, still not taking his eyes off of Snotlout's. The other man frowned. "Are you..." he trailed off, glancing at Eret. "Is he... who I think he is?"

Eret took a deep breath and nodded. "I guess so?"

Anxiously, Hiccup waited for the reaction. What would it be? Surprise, certainly. Disbelief. Maybe anger? A certain hostility? There was a reason why they'd never met before, after all... But when the reaction came, it was nothing like Hiccup had expected.

“I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed, a wide grin on his face. “Ayye! Cousin!” He held out his hand toward Hiccup which he took more out of reflex than anything else, and was pulled into a friendly but bone-crushing hug. Snotlout pounded him fondly on the back and said, “I never thought us meeting at last would happen in a stable, of all places!”

Out of all the possible reactions Hiccup had contemplated, this was pretty far off the track. And apparently, Dagur and Eret were just as surprised as Hiccup was. They stood to the side and stared at Snotlout with clear bewilderment on their faces, and it didn’t take long before Snotlout noticed.

“What?” he asked with a huge grin. “Didn’t you know that we’re related?” He gestured between himself and Hiccup. “His father was my mother’s brother, may she have a good spot at Freya’s tables.”

Eret and Dagur shared a look, and Hiccup couldn’t help but feel the same confusion. “As a matter of fact,” Eret eventually answered. “We did know that. But…” he paused, licking his lips. He threw a quick glance at Hiccup, clearly asking a question, and Hiccup nodded. It wouldn’t be feasible to keep this secret from Snotlout anyway. “Is… is that all you’re surprised about? To see Hiccup here?”

Snotlout frowned, quickly glanced at Hiccup as if hoping for an explanation from his cousin, but then shrugged. “Yes? Despite our relation, we’ve never met before. I know you always were close to that part of your family, Eret, but for me it’s been different. We were always busy enough with our problems in Westhill, so visiting family never was a high priority. And it’s not as if his family ever made much effort to stay in contact either…” he added, his tone slightly grumbling.

Hiccup grimaced, but didn’t know what to say. It was true that they hadn’t stayed in contact with House Jorgenson, especially after Snotlout’s mother, his father’s sister, had died and Grand Duke Spitelout had remarried. But they had always been somewhat reclusive, from the mainland branches of the family as well as pretty much from everyone outside of the Tribes; it hadn’t been personal. But Snotlout seemed to take it that way, and Hiccup couldn’t really blame him for that. However, this wasn’t what was odd about Snotlout’s reaction anyway.

“He doesn't know,” Dagur stated flatly, something like hysterical laughter bursting from his chest. Not even he was able to fully make fun of a situation like this.

“‘Doesn’t know’ what?” Snot inquired, clearly getting a little irked now. “Are you making fun of me?”

Again, Dagur and Eret shared a glance, clearly uncomfortable now, but Hiccup felt weirdly detached. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said in a monotone voice. “Because I’m supposed to be dead. My whole family is dead, and I should have died with them.” The truth of these words burned with a sudden flare in his chest, and only the glow of his connection with Astrid was able to soothe the guilt. Yes, he should be dead too… But what would that have done to her?

Snotlout’s eyes widened in shock. “Dead?” he whispered, then turned to look at Eret and Dagur as if seeking confirmation. “They’re dead? All of them? When? How?”

“Nobody really knows how,” Eret sighed. “But it’s already been two years... And you really never heard about it? I know the tribes aren’t exactly forthcoming with any information, but…”

Snotlout shook his head, troubled. “No… I mean, we really have enough problems of our own, but I would have thought…” He glanced at Hiccup again. “I’m sorry to hear that, for your loss and… and for not knowing. I still can’t believe…”

Hiccup took the words with a silent nod. He’d know that meeting Snotlout would probably bring this topic up, had been prepared. But it was still jarring.

“Nobody knows that Hiccup is still alive though,” Eret eventually said. “Hence the squire charade. That way, nobody will look too closely at him. So I hope you understand that you can’t tell anyone.”

Snotlout frowned, but then nodded. “Of course,” he agreed. “I trust that you have your reasons, so I won’t say anything.”

An uncomfortable silence overcame them. Hiccup couldn't tell whether his secret would be safe with Snotlout; he didn’t know his cousin at all, after all. But Eret and Dagur had assured him that he was trustworthy, and it wasn’t as if he had a choice anyway. He just hoped that Snotlout wouldn’t tell the wrong person after all, ending in Hiccup waking up one day to… well, to not wake up at all.

“All right,” Eret eventually broke the silence, clapping his hands. “We came here for a reason, didn’t we? Snot? This here is your new stallion: Firewind Hookfang–”

“Or Chomp, as everyone calls him,” Dagur threw in.

“He’s got a bit of a temper, but since you’re used to our horses already, I don’t think you’ll have... many problems with him.”

Snotlout took the hint to change the topic, and joined Eret at Chomp’s stall. “I might be used to having them around, but I’m not really used to riding one,” he corrected airily. “But I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to it. Thor, he looks impressive! Just what I’d hoped for.”

A short while later, all traces of awe or smugness had left Snotlout. Instead, he was cursing all of Eret’s and Dagur’s ancestors as he once more got up from the paddock’s floor, rubbing his backside, while Eret was trying to recapture Chomp and Dagur was laughing cordially.

“Yeah, that’s how I imagined this,” the redhead burst out, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Beautiful. Ah, that makes up for all the boring training with the recruits and formal dinners. Seeing the fine Lord Snotlout covered in dust and dirt, and for once it’s not even my fault.”

“Nor mine,” came another voice from behind them. “Loki, that almost makes up for having to walk the whole way out here again.”

All four men looked up, and Hiccup felt as if the sun was rising once more when his eyes fell on Timothy – with Astrid two steps behind him.

“Swanja!” Eret greeted her enthusiastically as he led an intractable Chomp at his side. “Now, that’s a surprise. I didn’t expect you to show up here today.”

“And neither did I,” Astrid agreed. “But I certainly didn’t say no when Father suggested I ought to… to enjoy this last day with you.” There was a slight trembling in her voice that certainly nobody missed, but also nobody reacted to – even though Hiccup felt the strong urge to go to her and take her in his arms.

“Plus, there’s not much she can do in the castle anyway,” Timothy added. He leaned down to fish an apple out of the basket he’d been carrying. “The castle is a nightmare, everyone buzzing about preparing for tomorrow. Honestly, I can’t remember things ever being this crazy.”

“It’s been pretty busy,” Eret agreed, frowning. “But I assume that’s because of the accolades? I mean, three high noble accolades in two seasons... well, that’s special, so more people than usual decided to make the journey here and get all three of them done. And they take the royal birthday as a bonus.”

“Aye, that’s probably it.” Timothy took a hearty bite from his apple. “Either way, I’ve got to go back and help too.” He grimaced. “Astrid’s governess was in a bit of a panic just now, something about a missing tax collector, and Ruff threatened to read Chicken scary bedtime stories for a month straight if I don’t return as soon as possible and help her deal with the madwoman. So, as much as I’d like to laze around for a while, I’ve got to go. Eret, she’s your responsibility now.”

“As always,” Eret replied, and shook his head at how quickly Astrid’s warder retreated. Chuckling, he turned his attention toward Astrid. “But since when does your governess care for any belated tax collectors?”

Astrid snorted. “I have no idea,” she emphasised. “I mean, she’s been acting weird for a couple of weeks now, being even stiffer and stricter when it comes to my manners than usual but also being surprisingly supportive whenever I was to spend the day with you guys.” She shrugged. “I gave up on trying to make sense of her.”

Everyone agreed, chuckling, then they all turned their attention back on Snotlout and his new stallion. Hiccup and Astrid shared a quick, longing glance, but with so many people around, they didn’t dare to hold eye contact or, Freya forbid, even move closer. Hiccup had to admit though, just being near her was enough to soothe his anxiety from before. It was enough to hear her laughter when Snotlout landed in the dust again with a vile curse, enough to see her from the corner of his eyes.

All in all, it was a relaxed day. In-between Snotlout’s rather painful-looking attempts to befriend Chomp, they made an extended break, ate the bread and fruits from the basket Timothy had brought, talked and laughed, and generally enjoyed the day.

When the sun was a good bit past its zenith, Astrid yawned, drawing everyone's attention.

"I think I'd like to go for a walk," she declared, and stretched. “As much fun as all this is, just sitting around here makes me tired.”

"Really?" Dagur asked in a playfully exaggerated tone. "How can you get tired of watching Snot land in the dirt?"

"Haha, very funny," Snotlout grumbled.

Astrid chuckled, such a wonderful and light sound that made Hiccup smile despite himself.

"Where would you want to go?" Eret asked, frowning. "Just up and down here along the paddock?"

Astrid shook her head. "No... I don't know. Just walking around a bit; maybe over to the pond and watch the swans." She shrugged.

"I'm not..." Eret muttered, grimacing. "Dagur? Would you want to accompany her?"

"And miss the show here?" he asked, gesturing to where Snot was about to mount Chomp once more. "I don't think so."

Astrid, however, rolled her eyes. "You do know that I can walk that bit on my own, right?" she said sourly.

"I do," Eret assured her. "But I officially took over the responsibility for you. And if anyone was to spot you wandering around unsupervised, your governess will want my head. And I can't leave Snot alone here."

Astrid grimaced, but didn't say anything, and Hiccup had the feeling that she wasn’t really annoyed or even surprised by this anyway. Nobody, surely not Eret, doubted her capability. As always, it was all just about appearances.

Or maybe, it was all part of a plan. She threw him a quick glance when nobody was looking, and Hiccup spoke without thinking much about it. "How about I go with her?"

Two or three months ago, such a suggestion would have been dangerous. But after the past weeks, the only one looking surprised or worried by those words was Snotlout.

"That would be an option. Is that all right for you, Swanja?" Eret asked.

Astrid snorted, playing her role well. "If it makes you feel better," she said, a mixture of amusement and light annoyance in her voice.

With that matter settled, Hiccup and Astrid headed off in the general direction of the little swan lake. It was broad daylight, and being outside where they could get seen by any random by-passer made them cautious enough not to even walk too closely to each other. But Hiccup had to admit that just this, walking side by side through the sunlight, felt good. Another memory he would treasure.

"This is nice," Astrid eventually commented, apparently thinking the same as him. She threw him a warm smile, and her hand twitched as if she wanted to take his but caught herself in the last moment.

"It is," he agreed, returning her smile. And it was. It was good to do something so ordinary as taking a walk together. In a couple of days, he'd dearly miss this.

When they reached the pond, however, Astrid's mood visibly fell.

"They aren't here," she muttered. "Again."

Hiccup let his eyes wander over the water and the high grass around it, but couldn't spot the swans either. "Maybe they're looking elsewhere for food? Or are breeding?"

"Maybe," Astrid nodded, sighing. “But coming here was more of a pretence anyway,” she added, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She glanced around, then looked at him again and gave a nod toward the forest. “Let’s go that way.”

Once they were relatively well hidden between the trees and bushed, Astrid weaved her finger through his as they walked on through the forest. Hiccup mused how different this was from how scared she’d been of getting caught in the beginning, and it made him smile. She’d come so far. Oh, he knew that part of this new-found confidence was due to the desperation of getting separated. But he was also sure that another not quite irrelevant part was due to her being less afraid in general, and he just loved to see this side of her. Confident. Happy. Free.

Hiccup didn’t keep track of where they were going, only followed Astrid’s lead. They only talked occasionally, quietly, and otherwise enjoyed the comfortable silence and the touch of their hands, listening to the singing birds and to the wind rustling through the leaves and branches. It was a wonderful day for a walk like this, warm enough so that even here between the trees where it was a little cooler, it was still warm enough, the sun painting small specks of light onto the ground and their skin.

Hiccup could have walked on endlessly like this, so he was quite surprised when, after only half an hour, the stables came back into view. He threw Astrid a puzzled look, but she just winked and pulled him on. Apparently, their walk had led them around the stables in a wide loop, because they were nearing the building from the backside, invisible to the others who could still be heard at the paddock. Hiccup’s heartbeat quickened when he realised what Astrid’s goal was: a small niche between two parts of the building that wouldn't be visible to anyone unless they came close enough to peer around a nearby shrub.

Astrid didn’t waste time. Her lips tasted of apple and honey from their earlier meal when he returned her kiss, backing her up against the wooden wall as he knew she liked. With her hands in his hair, tugging and pulling, it quickly became difficult to think about anything. In his head, there was only her, only this wonderful and amazing person that owned his heart and soul, and who was so easily able to drive him crazy with her teeth nipping at his lips.

Hiccup lost all sense of time as they kissed, and they only paused when the noises coming from those on the other side of the building changed. There was a shift in voices and tones, then very audibly the opening of the front door and the sound of hooves on stone as Chomp was led inside.

“It’s time to go back,” Astrid murmured. She pushed him back a little until their eyes met. “You’re having a date today, after all. And an important question to ask,” she added cheekily.

“Right,” Hiccup muttered, grimacing. He still wasn’t so sure about her suggestion to try anal sex. Not that he didn’t want to; the idea was lurking in the back of his mind ever since she’d come up with it last night and refused to leave. But still, it felt like cheating, like skirting the rules in a not-quite-acceptable manner.

“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry,” he assured her. “But remember, I can’t promise anything. Besides, I don’t know how tonight will turn out anyway. With Snotlout being there too, I don’t know if I’ll even get the chance to ask Cami in private or will be able to sneak away at all. It… It’s…”

“It’s okay,” Astrid interrupted him gently. She reached for his hand and started playing with his fingers, averting her eyes. But when she continued speaking, she sounded sincere. “If you can’t get away, I mean. There’s no need for you to feel… bad or anything. And the same is true for when you’re back in Eastervale, or in Westhill come summer. I don’t mind if you sleep with an Ástir, you hear me? You don’t need to hold back because of me.”

Warmth spread through Hiccup’s chest, and he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. How was it possible that she kept saying or doing things that made him fall in love with her over and over again?

“I know,” he breathed, placing a hand beneath her chin to lift her head and look at her again. “But you don’t understand. I don’t want to. I only want you; every other woman lost her appeal to me. You have bewitched me in the most wonderful way, and I love you, so much, more than words can say.”

Astrid’s eyes grew softer, and nuzzling into his hand she placed a soft kiss to his palm. “It’s the same for me too,” she murmured. “But still…”

But still…

Hiccup grimaced. But still there was the problem that he didn’t even know what to expect from tonight. Sighing, he nodded, then leaned in to bury his face in her hair. The all-too-familiar scent of mayweed immediately made him dizzy and at the same time comforted him, and he idly contemplated whether to buy a bottle of scented oil to take with him to Eastervale. The noises from the other side grew louder, more active, and Hiccup pressed himself closer against her. “I don’t want to go,” he groaned. He was aware of how often he’d said those words lately and the different circumstances were amusing to a degree, so he couldn’t really begrudge Astrid chuckling shakily.

“Yeah, I’d rather stay here with you all night too,” she whispered. She tilted her head to nuzzle against his neck, and a light shudder ran down his spine. “But we both know that won’t happen. Besides, I really want to know what Cami is going to say, so…”

Hiccup couldn’t help but chuckle as she trailed off suggestively. Her eagerness was amazing. “I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to be here with you tonight!”

Astrid's face turned into a soft smile. “I know. And I’ll be right here, waiting for you,” she breathed.

“Swanja? Swanja, we’re heading back. Where are you? Hiccup?”

They both winced as Eret’s voice echoed toward them, and reluctantly, they parted. “Time to go,” Astrid stated, but Hiccup didn’t feel like doing so just yet.

Once again, he leaned down to kiss her, one hand softly cupping her cheek. He was careful not to lose control again though, and pulled back when he felt that the urge to just continue regardless of any consequences grew.

When they finally parted, Astrid’s cheek had turned a lovely shade of pink, her eyes hazy, and the smile she gave him was dazzling. Gods, how was he supposed to live even one day without her?

. o O o .

“You haven’t told him?” Hiccup looked incredulously from Eret to Dagur and back again.

Eret just shrugged. “It didn’t really come up so far,” he muttered.

Dagur, however, wore an obscenely huge grin. “And I’m dying to see his face!”

Hiccup shook his head in disbelief, but didn’t say any more when Snotlout returned from the outhouse to where they’d been waiting for him in the entrance hall of Freya’s temple. Despite their closer relation, Hiccup didn’t feel like it was his responsibility to inform Snotlout about possibly important details, even though he still thought it would have been better if they’d told him about Cami before.

But as it was, they hadn’t, and if Hiccup was honest to himself then that wasn’t what really bothered him anyway. Far more pressing to him was the question of what would happen after he’d seen her. Would Hiccup be able to sneak away and back to Astrid like he usually did? How would Snotlout react if they told him he would spend the night with his secret girlfriend instead? Was that something he dared to reveal to his cousin? And what was the alternative? Snotlout knew about Eret and Dagur, so they wouldn’t need to keep that facade at least. But the idea of having sex with Cami tonight, of possibly even sharing her with Snotlout, just to keep his secret hidden didn’t sit well with him. He hoped there would be another way out.

But when Cami finally joined them, everything went differently than he’d thought it would.

“What in all Gods’ names is this?” Snotlout exclaimed as Cami appeared between him and Eret.

She was dressed in a pretty gown in varying shades of blue and her golden mane artfully arranged in intricate braids all around her head, as usual for her role. As expected, Dagur burst out laughing and Cami joined in with a low chuckle, but to Hiccup it was clear that neither Snotlout nor Eret found the situation even remotely funny.

“This is Cami, an old friend of mine. She’s our date for tonight,” Eret tried to explain. “And Cami, this is Snot. We told you about him, right? Sir Snotlout of House Jorgenson.”

Cami threw Snotlout a cheeky grin and curtseyed elegantly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir Snotlout. I’ve already heard a lot about you.”

Snotlout didn’t seem to be in the mood for pleasantries though. “Is this supposed to be a joke?” he asked, turning his attention back to Eret. He looked angry, but Eret shook his head.

“No, believe me, we were just as surprised as you are the first time we saw Cami like this,” he replied quietly, his body language reserved, as if trying to keep the other people in the atrium from looking in their direction more than they already were.

“And still you…” Snot began, but broke off directly. He threw measuring glances from Eret to Dagur, then one at Hiccup, and eventually nodded. “I see,” he murmured, grimacing, and Hiccup got the impression that Snot’s thoughts probably weren’t so far off the truth.

“Is there a problem here?” Cami asked cheerfully, and linked her arm with Snotlout. “Shall we go upstairs and talk there?”

Snotlout nodded mutely, but pulled his arm back from her, and with a stony expression followed the others to Cami’s room. Once the door closed behind them, however, he didn’t hold back any longer.

“Are you insane?” he hissed, gesturing at Cami without looking at her. “She looks just like Swanja!”

Dagur snorted from where he’d let himself fall into one of Cami’s cushioned chairs. “Believe us, we noticed,” he said dryly, and reached for a cookie on a tray – another visitor must have brought them before.

Snotlout threw him an irritated look. “And still you meet with her? Repeatedly, if I understand correctly? All of you? I mean, I get that this is ‘not what it looks like’ –” he gestured elaborately at Eret and Dagur, “–but still. What are you thinking? What are the people supposed to think?”

Eret closed his eyes and gave a heavy sigh. “The people,” he emphasised, “already think that Swanja and I are a couple. And that she’s supposed to marry one of us one day anyway. So whatever rumours there might be, they won’t say anything new.”

“And what about Swanja?” Snotlout threw back harshly. “What if she hears about this? That we, who should know better, meet with an Ástir who looks like her and indulge in the fantasy of banging her all at once?”

“She already knows,” Hiccup interjected despite himself, but Eret spoke over him.

“Swanja knows better than to believe that,” he replied, equally harshly now. “She knows about Cami, they’ve met–”

“–and became friends,” Cami threw in, but Eret didn’t stop.

“–and she knows why we meet with her. Not because she looks like her, but because we knew her before. Because she’s our friend and covers for us. And even Hiccup knows her from Eastervale and doesn’t see Cami as Swanja.”

Snotlout threw him another calculating look, grimaced, and shook his head. “I still don’t like this. If this works for you and Swanja doesn’t mind, then... whatever. But I can’t do this, not with her!” Again, he gestured toward Cami who at least didn’t seem to be offended.

“And that’s all right,” she said, calmly and in a much more natural tone than before. She even moved differently, much more like Hiccup remembered her from Eastervale. More like herself and not her role. “I understand and respect your reasons, Sir Snotlout. If you prefer, I can see which of my sisters would be available for you?”

Snotlout hesitated, once more throwing glances at those around him. He looked uncomfortable, torn between leaving and staying with his friends.

“Hey, it’s okay. We understand,” Eret said with a slight smile. “We’ll catch up again tomorrow.”

Snotlout nodded, then turned toward Cami and finally looked at her directly again. “Thank you for your offer. And I take it gladly. Please know that I didn’t mean to be offensive, but–”

“Don’t worry, I understand,” Cami interrupted him, smiling genuinely. “In fact, I see it as a compliment that my role is good enough so that it even convinces those who know the Princess in person. Now, if you’d follow me?” She left, and after one last glance around, Snotlout followed her, leaving the other three men in silence.

“Yep,” Hiccup eventually commented dryly, “that went just as brilliantly as I’d thought. Maybe you should have told him earlier after all.”

Eret gave a non-committal grunt, and even Dagur looked a little remorseful. But deep down, Hiccup was actually glad how things had turned out.

Even as the prospect of asking Astrid’s question was a little daunting.

. o O o .

“So, what are we going to do today?” Cami asked once the door to her bedroom had closed behind Eret and Dagur. She sauntered over to her table, sank down into a chair, and reached for a cookie. “Do you want to play cards or just chat a little?” She smirked as his face scrunched up. “Oh, is there something you want to talk about? How do you feel about leaving?”

Hiccup grimaced even more. He tried not to think about leaving, or else he might go crazy. But then, with Cami he at least could talk about it. He followed her to the table and took one of the cookies as well, mainly to distract himself. “What do you think how I feel?” he eventually muttered, and slumped down into another chair, the cookie forgotten in his hand.

Cami cocked her head, her blue eyes never leaving him. But she didn't say a word, and after another minute Hiccup sighed.

“I feel horrible, okay? I've gotten so used to her presence, to talking to her, to feeling her warmth at my side when I wake up. It feels so right, so wonderful, and the idea of going without that for w-… for months is driving me insane.” He averted his eyes, hoping that Cami hadn't noticed his slip up. It would probably only be weeks until Astrid came to Eastervale if everything with the wedding worked out as they hoped. But he couldn't tell Cami that – it might give away too much about his lady love's identity. Although, his worries seemed to have been for nothing.

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” she sighed, shaking her head. “How often have you been meeting lately?”

Hiccup swallowed, and nibbled at his cookie after all. “Every night?” he admitted a little sheepishly. “And we've at least seen each other nearly every day, too. She's become such a big part of my life that I can barely imagine spending just one day without her.”

“Have you exchanged some tokens, something to remind you of the other? I've heard that helps, at least a little.”

Cami sounded truly concerned, and that actually made Hiccup smile. Not because the situation was funny in any way, but because he was grateful to Cami for her genuine interest. That she cared enough about him.

“We have,” he replied with a light nod, his hand wandering to his chest where he carried Astrid’s little key. “Remember the horse statue? Apparently, she placed it next to her bed.”

That made Cami chuckle. “Oh, so that's the perfect place for her to remember you?” she asked, mirth glinting in her eyes. “I really wish you'd tell me who she is so that I can show her how to pleasure herself once you're gone. I'm beginning to think that it actually was rather unfair to introduce her to sex, only to withhold it from her after all. And for so long. I think I'd go insane.”

At that, Hiccup grimaced again, for more than just one reason. “You know I can't tell you who she is,” he muttered, but he knew that wasn't really an issue for Cami and he’d only brought it up to buy time. Because the other thing he needed to talk about with Cami was back at the front of his mind from what she’d said, and he honestly wasn't sure how to begin. He ate the cookie, then a second one and drank a glass of the light wine before he felt ready to start. “But… but on that matter… there's something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?” Cami’s head perked up in amused – and predatory – curiosity. “What about?”

Hiccup swallowed at the look; she had far too much fun in getting as many details about his and Astrid’s relationship out of him as she could, for Hiccup’s taste at least.

“Yeah,” he went on, hesitantly. “It’s… I need your advice on a certain practice. You know, how to go about it, what to heed. I mean, I do have some experience, but she doesn’t, and I don’t know what to do to make it easier. I want it to be as pleasant as possible for her. And I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt her because I did something wrong.”

Cami nodded, a tiny smirk playing around her lips. “I didn’t expect any less of you. But if you want me to give you any advice then you actually have to tell me what ‘practice’ you’re talking about.”

He gulped. “I... uh... you see... there was this book, and we were reading it, and...”

She snickered. “Last I checked, reading a book to your beloved worked better with less stammering.” He gave her a light glare, which made her break out into giggles. “So, what was this book?”

“The Exotics of the Southlands,” he said, looking down. Cami made a noise of surprise, and he continued, “And, well...” he swallowed and blurted in a rush, “I need advice on anal sex.”

There was a very long pause, so he hesitantly looked up at Cami, and then flinched. She was giving him a cool – no, make that frigid – look, and then fluidly rose out of the chair where she’d been casually sprawled only moments before.

“That book. Oh, yes. I know it. And did you pick it out of the royal library ‘accidentally’, Hiccup?” Her tone was acidic and accusatory. “I know you’re quite the scholar. Did you see it and figure you could convince your lady love to–”

“She’s the one that brought it to me! And she asked me when we found those pages! I had no idea!” he protested in a rush.

Cami blinked and then gave a small harsh chuckle. “Well.” She continued pacing around him.

Hiccup tracked her motions around the chair. “Well... what?”

“If it were anyone else, I’d call bullshit,” Cami said bluntly. “I know men. Hel, my entire profession is about giving men a warm place to shove their cocks, when you get down to it. And while I enjoy what you’re asking for, the thought of having that be the first thing you give your girl as a way to loophole through the rules... well, you’re not the first to come up with that idea, and normally I’d be reporting you to the Fyrir for censure and fining. Possibly some public shaming.”

Hiccup swallowed.

“But... this isn’t normal. And you’ve been honest with me from the beginning – except about who in Freya’s name your girl is – so I’ll buy it for the moment, that she’s as keen as you are, if not more.”

Hiccup relaxed slightly. “Thank you, Cami. And it’s more, I swear.”

She leaned down in front of him and gave him a flat look. “Don’t thank me yet. Before I say anything, do you swear to me before Frigga that this truly was her idea?”

Swallowing again, he nodded and said, “I swear on Frigga, Freya, and Odin that what I told you was true.”

She looked him in the face, sighed, straightened and rubbed her temples. “Great. So, two things before I tell you anything.”

“Yeah?”

“First, I really wish you could tell me who it is,” she said. “She’s in the palace, I’ve figured that much...” she said leadingly.

Hiccup shook his head. “I can’t. I promised.”

“Even if that means I won’t tell you anything?” Cami pressed.

He nodded. “I’d rather go without sex with her than betray my word to her. Like I said, it was her idea, she was very insistent, and I promised I’d ask you. If you say no, then that’s that.”

She smirked. “That was the right answer. Fine.” She eyed him. “But I will find out one day, just so you know.”

“Cami, once everything is settled, you might even be one of the bridesmaids,” he said earnestly.

She laughed. “I’ll hold you to that, then!”

They fell silent for a moment, and then Hiccup asked, “And the second thing?”

“The second thing I’d like to know is… why do you want to try that.” Hiccup wanted to reply what he’d said before, but she waved him off with a quick gesture. “So let’s say I believe you and your oath that it’s not about you just getting it in,” she commented. “And I actually don’t expect you to give me a detailed answer. But I’m going to ask you two to talk about it. If she’s as eager as you said, then what’s her reason? Because if it’s just about getting it over with for her, just about doing it, then that’s not a good enough reason either. Don’t allow that she pressures herself into anything because of this upcoming separation, okay?”

Hiccup nodded mutely, but it wouldn’t have needed her warning; he would never want Astrid to feel pressured into something either.

“Good. And now that that’s settled,” Cami went on, turning away from the chair and walking over to one of her decorated shelves, “let's talk about the technicalities. If I remember correctly you already know about the necessary rules of hygiene, right?”

“I do,” Hiccup murmured.

“Right. No need to go into the details there then.” She reached for a small object on one of the upper shelves. “So we can focus on the preparation. Because that's the key, especially for someone who's never done this before. First point: you need good lubrication.”

She came back to him and handed him the small object. On closer examination, it turned out to be a ceramic pot in the form of a swan, delicately sculpted and painted in white with blue-ish shadows. “What is this?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s a scented oil. You can keep it and use it as lubrication; don’t worry, I have enough. And be sure to use enough. Go slowly. And by that, I mean really slowly. Take the usual time for foreplay and preparation and at least double it. Actually…” She paused for a moment, then nodded. “You have two nights left, is that right? Good. Then my advice would be to only prep her tonight. Let her get used to the feeling, see if she likes it at all, and let her body get accustomed to it. Play around a bit, but leave the main event for tomorrow night.”

Hiccup nodded to show that he’d understood. “That is a good idea. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And Hiccup?”

“Yes?”

“When I’m your beloved’s bridesmaid...”

“Yes?” he repeated as she trailed off significantly.

“I’m going to ask her about what we just talked about. And if you did just lie to me about whose idea this was, and took the gods’ names in vain for that oath...” she smiled at him with all her teeth. “I won’t deprive the poor girl of her wedding night. But once you’re done, I’ll serve you your dick, fried and with onions. Got it?”

He winced. “You don’t need to worry.”

“All right.” She nodded, still smiling eerily, before glancing at a candle clock hanging near the wall to her bedroom. “Your usual half hour isn't quite up yet. So, is there anything else you'd like to talk about?”

Chuckling, Hiccup shook his head. “No, not really.” After this talk just now, he was pretty much done with talking for tonight. To her at least.

They spent a couple of minutes in companionable silence, and Hiccup's attention turned back to the small pot she'd given him. Carefully, he opened it, and an all-too-familiar scent rose from the oil, making his heart flutter and his head spin. “Mayweed?” he asked, glancing up at Cami still standing over him.

She grinned. “Yeah. Originally I used rose oil, but after your suggestion, I pretty much changed everything to mayweed. You don’t like it?”

Chuckling, Hiccup shook his head as he put the lid back onto the swan-shaped pot, caressing it gently. “It’s perfect.”

. o O o .

And finally... all domino pieces are in place...

Next chapter

#Aaahhh #I'm so excited!!#FTLOAP #for the love of a princess #Hiccstrid #fanfiction #Hiccup and Astrid #httyd #medieval au #royalty au #fluff

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rorykillmore · 6 years

Text

shatter your illusions of love

catch me writing hannibal fic in 2018, i guess! so a sort of au idea that has always fascinated me is ‘what if margot and alana had met in season 2 instead of season 3′ because although they don’t interact in the former, there are so many interesting ways their arcs are weirdly intertwined and paralleled.

so this is just a little ‘what if’ scenario. honestly i considered setting it closer to the end of the season because that has it’s own potential, but in the end this turned into “vague flirting while shit still hasn’t hit the fan yet.”

rest assured though that there’s still plenty to be sad about

and margot is still kind of immediately smitten, god bless her

It’s snowing the night she meets Alana Bloom, although beyond that Margot can’t say there’s anything particularly remarkable about the evening. It’s not all that charming to meet someone while standing outside your psychiatrist’s house -- she’s certain Doctor Lecter wouldn’t appreciate her lingering, but Margot has learned that there’s opportunity in her moments away from his prying eyes. She certainly found opportunity in Will Graham. Now she wonders what some of his other patients might be hiding.

It’s a breach of privacy, almost definitely, but maybe she’s become too desensitized to that sort of thing to care. Either way, it’s easy to justify the same way she does everything else: stay afloat, keep the upper hand, survive.

As universal an instinct as survival may be, of course, Margot’s learned it to be a pretty flimsy justification in most circumstances where it tends to apply. Somehow, Doctor Lecter legitimizing the concept hasn’t made her feel much better about it.

But she’s not in therapy to feel better about herself.

The woman who comes up the walkway a few moments later, though -- she doesn’t look like a patient, somehow. It’s not that she’s pretty and put together, though she is (Margot knows from experience that the most fractured people can have very clean surfaces), but rather something in the way she approaches her destination. She’s lacking the kind of steeled apprehension that Margot has come to associate with patients of Hannibal’s. She’s a little too open.

And thus, a little harder to open with than Will was. Margot smiles languidly at her anyway.

“You’re not the most unconventional person I’ve ever seen walking in or out of this building. But I have to say, I’m intrigued.”

The woman stops, caught off guard, and stares at her for a heartbeat. “...And you are... ?”

Margot considers briefly. If she gives this woman her name, there’s a chance it’ll get back to Hannibal. If she doesn’t, she makes herself inherently notable, and it almost definitely will. “Margot Verger. I’m a patient of Doctor Lecter’s.”

“Oh.” She can tell by the way the woman raises her eyebrows in mild surprise that Hannibal hasn’t told her anything about their sessions. Which, she supposes, is a point in the ethical practice column for once. “...Verger. As in...”

“Meat packaging, animal cruelty, and family dysfunction,” Margot finishes for her dryly. “That’s us.”

The woman’s lips twitch. Margot thinks she might have been mildly taken aback, but it’s hard to tell. “Quite a legacy to have following you around.” Then she holds out her hand politely. “Alana Bloom.”

“Not a patient, then?” Margot takes her hand after brief consideration - a downplayed version of her usual hesitance with physical contact - and lets the touch linger a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She’s really only flirting with flirtation, at this point, but she supposes the recent success with her plan might have her feeling bold.

“A colleague,” Alana corrects with an easy, if slightly reserved smile. “Of Doctor Lecter’s.”

A colleague. Margot looks Alana over more carefully, wondering how much she should read into that. “You don’t really seem like his type.”

Alana raises her eyebrows a little, and Margot pauses a bit stiffly. “...I didn’t mean that as an insult. A compliment, if anything.”

“Uh huh. So I take it your sessions aren’t going well.”

Margot actually has to smirk in earnest at that. “I don’t really have a gauge for that sort of thing, but I suppose it could be worse.”

It’s skirting around the truth, which Margot doesn’t imagine Alana would take very well. Whether or not Alana would actually take her at her word that Doctor Lecter’s been encouraging her to kill her own brother, it would almost definitely set things off balance. She needs to be careful. There’s already something a little questioning, a little worrying in Alana’s eyes.

She wonders how much Alana actually knows about her colleague, and tries not to linger on the thought. She doesn’t need more things to feel guilty over.

“You’re, uh,” Alana tilts her head a little, at last. “Coming a long way, aren’t you? So something about it must be worthwhile.”

Margot shrugs. “My brother’s paying, so I thought I might as well take advantage. I guess he must have been feeling guilty.”

Mason, of course, has never experienced anything remotely like guilt, but it’s an easy enough point to test the waters with. But Alana either sees through it immediately, or doesn’t ask because of whatever boundary she thinks she’d be crossing. “Sounds like something a guilty brother would do,” she remarks instead, though Margot notices she’s watching her a little more carefully. “You should take advantage while you can. Any college loans you still need to pay off?”

Margot can’t help but find her charming, reserved as she’s almost certain Alana is being. Which is fair, since she hasn’t exactly been forthcoming herself. “I didn’t know psychiatrists had senses of humor.”

“I’m funnier than Doctor Lecter. Easily.” Alana’s teasing smile fades a little, but she continues earnestly, “And I’m joking with you because it’d probably be inappropriate for us to have a personal conversation.”

She blinks. It’s honest, at least.

Smoothly none the less, Margot responds, “Then it’d probably also be inappropriate to ask if you drink wine.”

She’s definitely flirting now, and maybe it’s reckless, maybe the prospect of finally being free of Mason has already made her a little too impulsive -- but then, Alana seems a little too principled to even take her up on a one night stand.

If she’s the kind of ‘colleague’ who visits Hannibal Lecter after his office hours, anyway.

At the very least, Alana takes it in good spirits, with a short, surprised laugh that’s sort of contagious. “Beer, actually. Preferably.”

“Huh.” Margot arches an eyebrow, not openly amused, but sort of playful. She looks Alana over more pointedly this time.

“Are you going to tell me I don’t seem like the type again?”

“I was actually planning to move on to seeing how you felt about whiskey.”

Alana tries to stifle another laugh. Margot finds herself mildly intrigued, if for no other reason than she’s getting a little more than a ‘straight woman who’s politely flattered’ vibe. And admittedly, Alana’s -- well. Intriguing. By virtue of who she is.

“I’d -- honestly, going drinking with a beautiful stranger sounds like the exact kind of thing I could use to improve my...” Alana pauses contemplatively. Suddenly Margot notices how tired she looks. “...Year, really. So thank you. But -- we really shouldn’t.”

“For all kinds of reasons,” Margot finishes for her, because despite having initiated this, she knows that all too well. Maybe there’d been something that felt safe in the unattainable. Still, she has to make an effort not to get stupidly hung up on Alana calling her beautiful.

“Yeah.” Alana smiles at her ruefully. She seems to linger on the edge of... something. Margot isn’t sure whether she should be wary of whatever Alana’s debating asking her, until Alana decides against it. “Besides, I should head inside before I’m late. And you should get back to your car, it’s freezing out here.”

It sounds enough like genuine concern that Margot has to quickly smooth over being taken aback. At any rate, the temperature out here is practically tropical compared to the chill she’s sure she’ll receive when she goes back home, but Alana doesn’t need to know that. If she’s somehow managed to look past Margot’s family reputation and form some kind of vaguely positive impression, Margot would prefer it stayed that way. Even if this is only a chance encounter.

“Mm. So much for clearing my head.” She lets Alana interpret that as she will, moving past her to start off down the walkway. The smoothness of her exit, admittedly, is ruined by her compulsion to look back over her shoulder -- which she does, of course. Alana is still watching her, and she tilts her head questioningly when their eyes meet.

But all of this is too precarious. Margot can’t bring herself to say anything, even if a better person probably would have.

Alana seems like a smart woman, she tells herself. If there was any reason for her to be worried about Hannibal, she would’ve picked up on it.

It’s a sentiment riddled with holes, and it doesn’t make her feel much better.

#the main tags seem like theyre still kinda active so ill just #hannibal #marlana #fic #anyway. was there anything else i was gonna say about this?#idk possibly ill write some more of this verse but only if i have time/inspiration coming up #but i have missed these two

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skeletonscribbles · 6 years

Note

Can you do #2 on the prompts for reddie? Eddie should say it to Richie out of nowhere and then Richie is shook and bam together boyfriends gay love.

Hello love! I think what my mind ended up putting together for you covers basically what you asked for - it’s a little less out of left field than what you implied, but OH BOY IS RICHIE SHOOK.

so! here is Things Keep Getting Better, for the prompt: “you’re so cute” 💕

(and here is where you can read it on Ao3!)

——

Beverly Marsh had always thought that her boys were the six most beautiful people on Earth.

Maybe she was biased, or maybe she just saw what she wanted to see because they’d taken her in when no one else would…but no matter the reason, she was adamant about it: every single member of the Losers Club was a sight to behold.

The rest of the Losers….disagreed, to say the least. Years of bullying and discomfort in their own skin had been generally shitty for their collective self-esteem - and Bev included herself in that collective, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that it had become a mission of hers to not only let them know that she thought they were beautiful, but to get them to believe it themselves.

Some of the boys were proving more difficult to convince than others.

Bill was probably the easiest, which had surprised Bev, because when she’d met him, he’d been pretty stuck under the weight of his own voice - of his own stutter. Time and his friends had changed that, though, and by the time high school rolled around, all Bill needed was the Losers around him and an assuring glance from Bev, and he could light up a room.

Mike had also blossomed readily since they’d met him that fateful summer, and while Bev liked to credit that to the heart-to-hearts they’d shared during their semi-frequent walks to and from Mike’s farm, she knew that a lot of it had to do with the removal of Henry Bowers. Bowers had been so bent on making Mike’s life a living hell that his absence had all but provided Mike with an opportunity to reinvent himself, and Mike had absolutely soared with his new freedom. Bev was wholly grateful…and so was Derry High’s football team.

Ben had taken some coaxing, but eventually she’d worn him down. In his case, she KNEW it was her encouragement that had done the trick, and she couldn’t help but loiter outside of his physics class sometimes, smiling to herself as he confidently explained some feat of engineering to his classmates. Sometimes he’d see her watching and a little color would rise to his cheeks, and that….well, that was a whole new kind of beautiful, right there. Even he couldn’t put that kind of genuine feeling into words - and he could put a lot into words, as evidenced by Bev’s growing collection of the pieces he’d submitted to the school’s literary magazine.

Stan was difficult. Where the others genuinely wanted, deep down, to be able to love themselves and move forward confidently, Stan seemed to enjoy wallowing in his darker thoughts. No matter how many times she whispered compliments and confidences to him in the halls, at movie nights, or as they were walking through the tall grass of the Barrens towards some adventure or another, he always regarded her with blank eyes and a sad smile. He kept all of them at arm’s length, in fact, and she hadn’t yet figured out why - something in her gut was telling her that something had maybe gone wrong right away with Stan, right when the seven of them had come together, but she couldn’t remember what, so she and Stan remained at an impasse for now.

Things had really turned around for Eddie when she’d brought him clothes shopping. Before Bev, all of Eddie’s clothes were either Sonia bought or Sonia approved, and as such, Eddie had never really gotten to see himself accurately. Bev had always had an eye for fashion (and more importantly, how fashion made people feel), and so saw right away how much of an impact Eddie’s pre-ordained wardrobe had on his self-esteem. At the beginning of their freshman year of high school, she’d caught him looking despairingly at his own legs, stomach, and arms in the mirror, seemingly wondering where he’d gone wrong, and that very night she had snuck him out of Sonia’s house, brought him to Freese’s, and bought him a shirt and a pair of pants that actually fit with money she’d wheedled out of her Aunt “for school supplies”. She did that every time she was able to scrounge up some money, and in three months’ time, Eddie’s confidence had done a complete 180. It was almost hard to recognize him at the end of their freshman year - he’d turned himself from someone who got shoved into lockers into someone that people smiled at in the hallways.

No one was more attuned to Eddie’s transformation than Richie. In fact, Bev was finding it difficult to get Richie’s own attractiveness through to him, because he was zero percent focused on himself and about eighty percent focused on Eddie. (The remaining twenty percent of his attention was divided pretty evenly between the rest of the Losers, Doritos, his Atari, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, respectively.) Unlike Stan, Richie wasn’t keeping himself totally closed-off…but he wasn’t allowing himself to be helped, either.

“I think maybe if you got a haircut?” Bev was combing her fingers through Richie’s hair one day during one of their frequent smoke-breaks, and brainstorming while she untangled his wild curls. “You have such pretty eyes, Richie, you should let more people see them.”

Richie had his eyes closed, and was tapping ash from the end of his cigarette erratically. “You can’t fix ugly. I’ve told you eight trillion times. And don’t tell me I’m not ugly - I don’t need that shit again, Marsh, not from you. I can handle the truth.”

“Are you accusing me of lying to you, Tozier?” she demanded, yanking on his hair sharply and taking quiet pleasure in his wince.

“Well, you’re not truthing,” he scowled, eyes drifting to something in the distance. Bev turned to follow his gaze…and of course his eyes had landed on Eddie, who was walking towards them with Bill and laughing about something. Eddie’s hands were gesturing wildly - he was obviously excited about whatever they were talking about - and Bev watched interestedly as Richie’s expression shifted from alert to wistful to just plain sad.

She tapped quietly at his shoulder, and he twitched, eyes flicking down in a show of guilt, or confusion, or maybe both. “You like Eddie’s clothes now, hm? You think they’re helping?”

“He, um.” Richie swallowed hard, choosing his words uncharacteristically carefully. “He seems happier.”

“I think so too,” she replied nonchalantly, lifting her eyes to try and gauge how much longer she’d have Richie’s attention before Bill and Eddie made it into earshot. She gave herself about another minute, and moved into fast-talking mode. “I helped him pick them out, you know.”

She could practically feel Richie’s ears perk up - like he was a dog that had just been offered a treat. “Did you, now.”

“Could help you out, too,” she offered cooly, “if you wanted to maybe…grab someone’s attention. If you’re interested, meet me by the bike rack at 2:30.”

Richie turned to look at her, a curious smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “What are you scheming?”

“Just show up, okay?” she sighed, and right on cue, Eddie and Bill cut into the conversation, yammering about the test they’d had in U.S. History and sucking Richie right into their (Eddie’s) vortex.

She figured the odds were about fifty-fifty on Richie actually showing up, so for good measure, she enlisted Ben and Mike to drag him out to the bike rack once the final bell rang.

“I could totally break out of this hold, you know,” was the first thing Bev heard Richie tell Mike as he was brought semi-forcibly out towards her.

“Yes, Richie, you’re very strong,” Mike lied agreeably. “Bev, here’s your Trashmouth.”

They let go of his arms very suddenly, and Richie fell to the ground in surprise.

“Thank you both.” Bev beamed at both of them, and they smiled back - Ben even got a little red in the face, which was the cutest fucking thing Bev had maybe ever seen. A phrase lit at the back of her mind - my heart burns there? My heart burns there, too?

“I hope you two have a nice time together,” Ben said earnestly, and Bev felt her smile grow even wider.

“Oh, we will.” She grabbed Richie’s elbow and yanked him to his feet. “Let’s go, Loser.”

—-

The next day at school, Richie got attention in the hallways, as usual - but this time, it wasn’t just because he was drawing dicks on lockers. Bev was practically glowing with pride - the between-class whispers were favorable, to say the least.

“Is that Richie Tozier?”

“Whoa, he pulled his hair back.”

“That sweater looks–”

“He looks–”

“Wow.”

“If I didn’t know he was going to make a weird sex joke about our French teacher today, I would totally consider asking him to Homecoming…”

“You see?” Bev asked Richie, who had frozen up a little bit…which was to be expected, given that had no context for handling positive attention. “A nice maroon sweater, a pair of black jeans that fit, and voila. Absolutely nothing’s changed, and yet.”

“I guess.” Richie rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “This sweater’s really fucking soft, at least. Also, I liked what that girl was saying about the French class sex jokes…glad to see my humor isn’t going unappreciated–”

“Whoa, hey, Rich!” The other Losers had caught up to them, and Mike was leading the parade. “Looking good, buddy!”

“Wh-who are you and wha-what have you done with Richie T-Tozier?” Bill demanded, smiling. He walked up to Richie and brushed some imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “Bev, you’ve p-performed a miracle.”

“I know,” Bev said, allowing herself a small, cocky smirk. “Stan? Thoughts?”

Stan, ever a harsh critic, pursed his lips. It was obvious that he was trying to find something to critique and coming up short. Finally, he said, “It’s passable,” and shrugged his shoulders.

Bev patted herself on the back for that particular compliment. From Stan, that was a lot…but Richie wasn’t paying any attention to Stan at all, no, his eyes were nervously locked on Eddie, who had brought up the rear of the group and was just now seeing Richie in his new outfit.

Bev heard Eddie’s breath catch in his throat, and she had to restrain herself from pumping her fist.

Nailed it.

“Whaddya think, Eds?” Richie laughed nervously, spinning around crazily like a fashion model on speed. “Hot or not? What’s Sonia K. gonna think?”

Eddie tutted quietly at the mention of his mother, but his eyes betrayed how he was really feeling - they were glued to the way Richie’s jeans fit nicely around his scrawny thighs, and the way the sweater cinched in at Richie’s waist.

“You’re so…” he began, color seeping into his face as he tripped over his words, “uh. You’resocute,” he finally finished, words all slurring into one another as he embarrassedly rushed through his sentence.

Hope lit up Richie’s features like he was a Christmas tree that had just been plugged in. “What was that, Eds? Say it slower, for the old folks in the back.” He gestured to Stan, and Stan unenthusiastically flipped him off.

Eddie’s whole face and neck were red, now, and it was clashing pretty grossly with his green button-down. Still, to his credit, he repeated his sentence. “You’re so cute,” he said quietly, slow enough this time that his words could be understood.

This time, it was Richie’s turn to go red. “Oh!” He smoothed out his sweater eagerly, fidgeting with his hands because he wasn’t really sure what to do with them. “Do you…do you really think that?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiled up at him, sweet and genuine. “I like this look. I like it…um…I like it a lot.”

“Good,” Richie replied, touching his pulled-back hair gently in disbelief. “I mean, uh. Fuck. Thanks.”

Eddie giggled, and Bev could practically see Richie’s world start to shift.

Richie didn’t make any big changes at first, but he did start wearing that sweater at least once a week, which reduced Eddie to a blushing mess every time.

Then, Richie started to pull his hair back out of his eyes more often. This led to a lot of Eddie zoning out during conversations, to the point where Bill wrote him a list of methods he could use to pay better attention and presented it to him in front of everybody. It was a mortifying moment for Eddie, but it had sent Richie’s ego into the stratosphere.

After that, Richie started carrying himself differently. He walked more deliberately, he smiled more genuinely - he even seemed to be reining in his vulgarity a little bit.

“Is he sick?” Stan asked Bev after the first week of Changed Richie, concern in his voice.

“I think he’s just happy,” Bev replied, smiling back at him. Stan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Doesn’t sound like Richie.”

“And yet,” Bev said, gesturing to where Richie was laughing with Eddie a little further down the hallway. Richie’s arm was slung over Eddie’s shoulders, Eddie was grinning sappily up at him, and love was practically radiating off of the two of them in waves.

Stan watched them quietly for a moment. “How did you do it?” he finally asked.

“I didn’t do anything,” she told him honestly. “I just showed him a little bit of what I see - or more, of what Eddie sees, which I think ended up being the kicker.”

“Oh.” Stan considered that. “I know what you think, Bev - about me, that is - and I appreciate it, of course, it’s very kind, but….I’m having a hard time…”

Bev’s eyes widened in realization. “Stan. You need an Eddie.”

Stan shot her an exasperated look. “I don’t need an Eddie, Bev. I just…I don’t…”

“Everything all right over here?” Mike had spotted them, and was weaving through the between-class crowds to join them. Bev made to assure Mike that they were perfectly fine, just chatting, but before she got the opportunity, her eyes were drawn to Stanley’s ears.

They were bright red.

Stan noticed her looking, and sent her an uncharacteristically pleading look. She pantomimed zipping up her lips with her fingers…but mentally, she was already putting together a plan.

“We’re fine, Mike,” Stan said, folding his hands in front of him and looking down at his feet. “Thank you for asking.”

“If you’re sure,” Mike said carefully, and oh goodness, his cheeks and neck were red too.

Bev felt a rush of gratitude sweep through her - for her boys, her beautiful boys, and the opportunity that had just landed in her lap.

She’d have them all believing in themselves yet.

#reddie #Richie tozier #Eddie kaspbrak #surprise Stanlon #canon divergence #pretend Bev stayed around and they still fought the clown and are still friends but some forgetting has taken place ok #Benverly

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blueplanettrash · 7 years

Note

hi!!! i️ absolutely LOVE your langst fics!!! forgive me if you’ve already written something like this, but could you maybe write something where when lance was talking about everybody’s “thing” and how he feels like a seventh wheel, his comms were on and everyone heard?? (this is based on a post i️ saw by user hoodiekeith)

Thank you so much! I always forget that I could write a fic for this scene. Also, I apologize for the next twoish weeks, its exam season at my university so I don’t know how much writing I will be getting done. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get some stories out. Oh, well, anyway I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

“Maybe I don’t have a thing,”

It echoed across everyone’s coms like a shock of cold water. Nobody suspected that Lance felt that way. He was always so confident in himself. Or at least it seemed like it. Shiro stopped in his tracks in the middle of Beta Traz, for the first time ignoring Slav to try and process what he had heard from Lance. He couldn’t afford to think about it right now though, they were in the middle of a mission and still didn’t know which one of them had the right Slav. When they got back though, he was definitely going to have a talk with the paladin.

As they floated back to Green after Lance perfectly shot the Warden’s hand to release Slav, Shiro glanced over to Pidge. She was looking over at Lance with a worried crinkle in her brows, it confirmed that she had heard Lance as well. If they both had heard him over the coms, it was completely possible that everyone on the ship had heard him as well. They brought Slav in to introduce him to Allura and Coran, as they walked in Shiro noticed that everyone’s eyes were on Lance albeit inconspicuously.

Everyone had heard him.

Even Allura and Coran watched him with worry veiled in their eyes. Coran distracted Lance by complementing his sharpshooting during the mission. While Allura quickly made her way over to Shiro, who was joined by Hunk, Pidge, and Keith.

“I’m not going to pretend to know about the psychological welfare of humans, but I believe that the four of you need to talk with Lance,” she started looking at all of them.

“Believe me, we are,” Shiro said earnestly, chancing a look over at the teen. He furrowed his brows when he saw him laughing and smiling with Coran, no sign of the self-doubt that they knew was brewing beneath the surface.

“Yeah, we need to sort this out, Lance is not a seventh wheel!” Hunk exclaimed quietly. The others nodded in agreement and looked back at Allura.

“Coran and I think that it would be better if we were not present, the bond that Lance has with the four of you far exceed our ties with him,” she explained. Although, she looked over at him as well, sadness clear in her eyes.

“As soon as we are done here, we will talk to him,” Keith promised. She nodded and returned to her spot by the monitors.

“Coran,” she called. He turned on the spot to face her. “I believe we should take our leave and try to find a spot for Slav to stay in for the time being,”

“Of course Princess,” he agreed. Before he left he turned and pulled Lance into a hug, his hand cupping the back of his head protectively. Lance looked surprised, to say the least, but almost immediately, his hands snaked around Coran’s back to return the embrace. When he pulled back, he ruffled his hair and walked toward the door with Allura and Slav trailing behind him.

“What was that?” He asked with a laugh as he turned to the paladins with a grin. It dropped off of his face when he saw that they weren’t returning it.

“Guys? Whats wrong?” He tried, taking a few steps forwards.

“Lance, we have to talk,” Shiro announced. Lance’s heart simultaneously stopped and sped up. He went over every bit of the mission in his head attempting to find the point where he messed up.

“Maybe we should go to the lounge?” Hunk suggested. Lance’s gaze snapped to him.What? They were going to be there too? When Shiro was going to go over his mistakes? Maybe it was to make sure that he would listen this time.

“Yeah, that would probably be the most comfortable,” Keith added. Comfortable. They wanted to be comfortable while Shiro ripped into him.

He deflated on the spot, missing the way that their eyes widened at the sight.

“Oh, well let’s go then,” he stated blandly, turning and walking out of the room toward the lounge. Behind him, they glanced around at each other. They weren’t sure what thoughts were bouncing around in Lance’s head right now, but it didn’t look like they were good ones. Following behind them, they were able to see how defeated he looked, if his slouched shoulders were any indication. He flopped down on one of the couches and stared over at them, specifically Shiro.

“Alright, let’s have it,” he mumbled. Despite the uncaring attitude he had right now. It was killing him inside at the thought that he had disappointed or angered Shiro. Shiro sighed and sat down next to Lance before he said anything.

“Are you okay Lance?” Shiro asked. Lance flinched back, obviously caught off guard but the question. He raised a brow and looked at the other paladins and saw the same downcast looks on their faces.

“Uh yeah, why? Whats wrong?” He asked instead, looking back at Shiro confused. He sighed again and reached over to put his hand on Lance’s shoulder.

“You know that if you’re ever feeling down or anything you can come to me, come to any of us really,” he started looking into Lance’s eyes. The confusion Lance felt doubled at that moment.

“Um okay, why are you telling me this?” He asked. He looked over at Hunk hoping for some sort of explanation.

“We heard you today,” Shiro said. Lance drew his attention back to the leader and was surprised to see that his eyes were becoming glassy.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, I said a lot of things today,” Lance chuckled. Shiro was slightly taken aback. How could Lance not realize what he was talking about? Maybe he talked this way about himself all the time, and he doesn’t even realize that he is doing it anymore. The thought of that made Shiro heart sink and his throat sting as he bit his lip.

“You’re not a seventh wheel Lance,” he choked out. Lance’s eyes widened in realization and his head whipped around gauging the reactions of everyone in the room. They looked down at the ground, hand clenched into fists and teeth biting into their lips.

“Oh,” he breathed out, not attempting to move away from Shiro’s hand. He hated seeing his team this way; quiet, unsure of what they could say to him. He made them act this way, it was his fault. Again.

“You guys don’t need to worry about that!” He said cheerfully, going to stand up. Shiro’s hand kept him in place though and he looked over to see the devastated look on his face.

“Of course we need to worry!” Keith cried stalking forward to stand in front of Lance. “You’re doubting your place on the team, and you’re doubting yourself,”

“Yeah, and if you’re doubting them that much it must be our fault in some way,” Pidge added coming up beside Keith.

“We want to fix it,” Hunk finished for them. Lance’s eyes widened and he ripped himself away from Shiro’s hand to stand up.

“No, it’s not your fault, you guys are perfect, it’s all me,” he argued.

“Well, it can’t be, just tell us what is happening so we can fix it,” Keith tried. Lance sighed and deflated on the spot.

“Why does it even matter how I’m feeling? We’re forming Voltron just fine,”

“What!? Of course, t matters, you’re our friend!” Pidge said poking Lance in the chest.

“We care about you Lance,” Hunk said earnestly taking Lance’s hand.

“You’re so important to the team Lance, we could never replace you,” Shiro added.

“Yeah, you’re our sharpshooter,” Keith said with a small smile. As they continued talking, Lance couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of self-loathing that began growing in his chest. His team didn’t need to say all of these things. They thought that how he felt was all their fault. It wasn’t their fault, it was his. It was always his fault. He wasn’t good enough for them. They deserved someone better than him.

“You deserve someone better,” he whispered. Immediately their chatter stopped and they looked to Lance.

“Sorry?”

“You deserve someone better!” He yelled shocking the paladins into taking several steps away from him.

“You deserve someone who is actually smart enough to know the difference between a person and a pet,” he said. Memories of leading Laika through the prison halls, insisting that she was their missing prisoner. The embarrassment had cut deep when the real Slav informed him of the mix up.

“You deserve someone who is strong enough to not be chained to a tree,” he insisted. He wasn’t even sure why Nyma had seemed interested in him. When she trapped him, he realized that it was because he was the weakest one there. It was understandable really.

“You deserve someone who is reliable enough to not crash every quiznacking simulators,” his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. Every word that Iverson had ever said to him came rushing into his mind. Every night he cried himself to sleep because he couldn’t keep the simulator going long enough for his team. Every day he wished that he could just leave that place.

“You deserve someone who is kind enough to not make people so uncomfortable,” he finally cried. Allura’s creeped out face flashed in front of his eyes. Every single disgusted face that he was given. Every heart break that he had suffered because of something he had said.

He fell back on the couch, ignoring the hand that came to rest on his knee and instead pushed his head into his hands. He let out a muffled sob, trying to get a hold of his emotions. He didn’t want to look even more weak in front of his team.

“If you weren’t smart you would not have gotten in to the Garrison,” Pidge said breaking the silence. Lance looked up at her, his eyes were already puffy from crying but it didn’t look like he was close to stopping yet.

“If you weren’t smart you wouldn’t have been the top pilot of your class,” she insisted coming forward to stand in front of him. “Don’t you ever think that you are stupid or something, because it isn’t true. I’ve seen the things that you are capable of, and the stuff that you know that you don’t think people want to see,”

“If you weren’t strong, you would not be here right now as a part of Voltron and you know it,” Keith added. “The lions only choose the best pilots out of everyone in the universe, and you were chosen first out of all of us,” he gestured to each of them. They all nodded their heads with big smiles on their faces.

“If you weren’t reliable, I don’t think that Coran would even be here right now,” Shiro stated moving his hand to rub up and down Lance’s back. “You promised to defend and help others and you kept good on your promise, you saved him when no one else could,” he choked out another sob. That wasn’t something that was special to him, anyone would have saved Coran.

“If you weren’t kind, so many lives would not have been changed. You make everyone’s lived who come across you happier. Remember when you first met me and I could barely even speak because I was so nervous but you just kept complimenting me and making me feel so good about myself that I became confident in myself,” Lance chuckled at that. Remembering the big kid in his grade school that no one talked to. He could tell that he and Hunk were going to be the best of friends from the first day he met him. Of course he was correct in that prediction.

“Any of you could have done those things, it doesn’t matter that I did,” Lance insisted after a moment. He still couldn’t let them believe that they were at fault. Keith groaned slightly and crouched in front of Lance to look him in the eye.

“Why can’t you just believe us!?”

“Because I’m garbage Keith!” Lance cried staring into Keith’s eyes. “I’m like, blue planet trash or something,” he muttered bitterly. He tucked himself into a ball on the couch and flopped onto his side.

“Very poetic,” Pidge laughed.

“I try,” he deadpanned staring at the opposite wall.

“Lance you have to understand why we’re shocked right?” Shiro asked. Lance shook his head slightly.

“You are one of the most talented, kindest, bravest, most loyal people I have ever met and there is so much more to you but we would be here for weeks if I had to list everything off,” he continued. Lance curled up further, this time in embarrassment.

“I know that this won’t be cleared up in an instant, but are we allowed to start trying to get you to see differently about yourself?” Shiro asked leaning over to thread his fingers through Lance’s hair. After a moment of thought, he nodded slowly. With a cheer everyone piled on top of him in celebration.

Even though it was the warmest and sweatiest hug he had ever had. It was also the most comforting that he had in a good long while.

Everyone knew that it would take Lance a long time and possibly for the rest of his life to start valuing himself more, but they would never give up on him.

Stories Masterlist

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shooter-nobunagun · 6 years

Text

Alabaster 1/2 (R-18)

//Been a long while since I wrote any drabble/stand-alone stories, let alone a fluffy one that didn’t involve smut or angst (lol). Kinda sensual, but nothing explicit. HAHA JUST KIDDING 🙃

Edit 1: This was supposed to be a fluffy drabble but it turned into more fleshing out/nuances of ‘how e-genes work’ in the canon sense; especially since Hisa-sensei recently answered a bunch of questions on Twitter regarding more mechanics of e-genes and the like, I wanted to explore those ideas (and now I realized that a lot of my stories might not match up canonically. Whoops).

Edit 2: There wasn’t supposed to be smut but then...smut... *sighs* I guess that’s what happens when I don’t give my muses smut for a long time...

Edit 3: Adding smut made it get a lot longer than just a drabble....why me

Warnings: suggestive sexual content

Smooth, unfettered, and perfectly pale-white; like looking at one of those marble statues carved by the great masters, to her it seemed almost as if she were gazing at an art piece, so perfect was his figure.

Well, truth be told if she ever told her husband she thought him equal to a Roman god, he’d just sigh and roll his eyes. Sio clicked her tongue wryly and decided against waking him up just to tell him such a particular comment, instead filing away said tidbit in the back of her mind. Maybe later, such as when she needed to appease his ego and get him to ravish her senseless. Not that last night had been unsatisfying by any means, oh no; rubbing her thighs together slightly, Sio letting the tingle of faint pleasure run through her spine. They said on average it took about half a year for pregnancy to go from planning to actually happening, and seeing as how they were coming up on their fifth month of trying...

Though personally, if remaining non-pregnant for a few more months equated to some more intense lovemaking sessions, Sio had no qualms about that.

A soft sigh on the bed beside her, Adam turning over just slightly on the pillow but otherwise remained unmoving. His hair, which was just as pale as his complexion, fanned out around his neck and the top of his back--which, Sio discovered, was not actually completely white but upon closer inspection, was dotted with a tiny band of very pale freckles, just across the top. She’d discovered this adorable feature after lounging over him one day, lazily enjoying the feel of his skin against hers while tracing imaginary patterns between them.

‘Ooh, you’ve got freckles back here!’ Sio exclaimed with a squeal as her fingers smoothed across his muscular back.

‘Oh, guess I do...not that I’ve paid much attention. Probably too much sun...’ Adam replied blithely, trying not to let on he was actually ticklish near his hairline.

Sio only smiled before placing a light kiss right between his shoulder blades. ‘Well, I think they’re cute. It looks nice against your skin...kind of like, stars. You know, like how the Milky Way has all those tiny little stars?’

At this comment Adam rolled over, forcing Sio to get off. ‘Stars? You always have quite the imagination, love...’

She giggled a bit at that memory, not in the least because it led to some of the most intense sex they’d had in a long time. Silently she traced the hard ridges of muscle along his back, marveling at how perfectly etched each line seemed to be. Back when she’d first walked in on him changing--an accident, truly--even with that irksome attitude of his, she couldn’t help but be captivated upon the sight of his muscular backside, not super-macho but a solidly-built figure with strong arms that felt wonderful to be held in...

A surge of heat pooled between her legs and Sio had to resist the urge to slip a finger down there. In hindsight, perhaps graduating from an all-girls high school had some downsides...

Beneath her the sleeping wolf was finally stirring, no doubt awakened by her feather-light touches as they dipped below his waist. “Hmmm...well I suppose that’s one way fer a wake-up call in the mornin’...”

“Ah, ohayou, Adam...”

He blinked those sleepy emeralds at her, clearly amused by her wandering hands as he rolled over and stretched, Sio shamelessly taking advantage of the view to burn his fabulous six-pack into her mind. “Don’t tell me yer thinkin’ of spicin’ up the morning already...it’s not even,” he glanced briefly at the clock, “9 o’clock yet...”

“Wee-e-l-ll, I mean it’s up to you,” she suggested coyly, “’cause let’s be real, when would I ever pass up the opportunity?”

He smirked at her response, running a hand through his bangs before he sat up and pulled her into his lap. “Actually, I can think of a few. But let’s not talk about that right now...I was thinking of some tea first, maybe? Perhaps a bite to eat?”

Just as he finished the sentence her stomach rumbled, Sio turning a dark shade of pink while Adam quirked a single white eyebrow. “Er, okay--I guess breakfast sounds pretty good right about now...ah ha ha, ha...”

“Right-o. Well, let’s rustle something up first, shall we?” He gave her a light kiss on the forehead and, despite being married and now attempting to start their own family, Sio still couldn’t help but blush to her very roots. “Oh Sio, you’re as cute as ever...”

“A-Adamu...” she muttered, his name taking on a more Japanese-accent than usual whenever she got flustered. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it...that, this is real, and it all happened...even though it wasn’t really that long ago, it feels like a lifetime, almost...”

He stared at her for a few seconds, before pulling her into a warm embrace she eagerly returned. “Same here, love...sometimes I almost forget I still have someone else’s DNA floating around my veins...but, I wouldn’t trade any of those struggles for this. For you,” he emphasized, touching their foreheads together. “Sometimes I find myself thinking about how much I changed, from before I met you to...now.”

“Yeah, you were kind of a jerk back then,” she shot back dryly, “but you were also...honest. And you still are, which is good. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I find myself missing your sarcasm sometimes...”

He let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head slowly. “Well, if you really miss it that much we can certainly arrange something...” his voiced trailed off slowly as her fingertips traced his skin once more. “...Something else, love?”

“Eh? No, it’s just...I guess I never realized how many scars you ended up getting, too...” Her eyes dimmed a little, mouth forming a thin line as she traced that particularly nasty gash along his left side, which never disappeared after that first battle in Taiwan. “Maybe I’ve just gotten used to them, but when you actually look...”

“Don’t worry about it, squirt,” he gently took her hand and laid it to her side. “Like I said, these are nothing; if anything, I could say the same to you...”

That horrid memory of when she lost control, and the only means to save her was a literal knife through the heart in the heat of the moment...despite the sensual mood she woke up with, Sio found herself quickly losing interest on that front, replaced with a need to simply feel him here, to reassure herself that what happened in the past was long ago, and nothing would happen to them now.

“Ah--Sio? You all right?” Adam was a bit alarmed at her sudden embrace, but didn’t hesitate to hold her tightly. “Hey...sorry, didn’t mean to bring up bad memories...”

“No...I brought it up first, so it’s not your fault,” her muffled voice came from his chest. “Mmm...I love you Adam...I love feeling you like this, touching and being with you and stuff...it feels so nice...and you smell nice, too.”

“Uuhh...hmmm....” Adam could only give a wordless, half-mumbled reply, not sure how to respond. Sio was sweet and honest, but surprisingly conservative with her words; rarely did she so earnestly declare her feelings for him, instead preferring to show it through physical acts or other small quirks. Adam on the other hand, despite his aloof appearance and often dry wit, never failed to shower her with affectionate quips whenever she was feeling down.

How different things were now, compared to when they first met; after joining DOGOO he’d quickly earned a reputation to be snarky and acerbic, the loner who preferred to do things his own way simply because it was easier than attempting to get along with everyone. Even his first words exchanged with the sniper were decidedly less-than-kind: jabs about her lack of skill, her inexperience, chastising her to stay out of his way and ‘leave it to the professionals’ and to not show any signs of weakness...Adam couldn’t help but smirk wryly to himself. Oh, how shocked his peers would be if they knew how drastically he’d changed. It wasn’t that they no longer teased or sparred with words--but rather, the circumstances changed. It pained him slightly to remember how often he’d put her down in the beginning, but looking back, perhaps it was a sign of his inexperience in forming relationships with others, be it friendship or something more. Being a loner for much of his life made it difficult to gauge others, to know who to trust and how to show that trust; the only way to protect yourself was to hurt others before they hurt you, or else drive them off, because the pain of betrayal was even worse.

He looked down at the woman in his arms, who was now nuzzling and resting her head comfortably against his chest. Who would’ve ever thought his type would be petite brunettes with flat chests? Adam sweatdropped a little as the last thought floated through his head; while it was true he judged people more on personality than appearances, his imaginations used to be about the typical ‘full-figured’ women much like their friend Jess Beckham, although he should’ve guessed that wasn’t the case the day he first met the blonde formally, and then proceeded get assaulted with an overzealous tongue--he shuddered slightly even now. No, love was more complicated than that, and now he found himself very much enjoying her lithe figure, the way she fit so nicely against him and how perfectly each breast could fit into his palm...he shifted his legs slightly, hoping Sio wouldn’t notice a rather suspicious hardness near her bum...

“Oh, sorry...am I sitting on your legs? Sorry...” Before Adam could say anything she scooted back onto the bed, to his disappointment. “Anyway, no matter how you change, you’ll always be the same Adam Muirhead to me. E-gene holder of Florence Nightingale, and one of the world’s saviors.”

“Hah! Shouldn’t I be saying that, Miss Sio Ogura? E-gene holder of Oda Nobunaga and Kaoru Asao, master tactician and the one who actually saved us all by ending it at last?” He teased, tapping her on the nose.

“That’s Mrs. Sio Muirhead to you, Mr. Muirhead,” she tapped his nose back. “Even though I still miss Asao-san...at least, I guess she’ll always be with me...in a manner of speaking...” Her eyes took on a distant look as she hugged herself. “I’m kind of jealous...I wish I could talk with my e-genes the way you do with Nightingale...the most I ever get are just one-way images and thoughts, not an actual conversation or anything like that...heck, I can’t even see them most of the time, and when I do, it always feels more like a dream...”

“Eh, to be honest, it’s not really something I’d wish on anyone...” For reasons none of them fully understood, not all holders could communicate with their perspective e-genes on the same level. There had been a report one time with Saint-Germain and Vidocq theorizing about the supposed levels of synchronization between holders and e-genes, and the different factors that affected it (personality, mental state, genetics among others) but Adam only remembered hearing the beginning before zoning out into a quick doze, the presentation not even half over.

Still, out of all the holders he was probably one of the most perceptive, the only one who could actually see and hear them as he would a regular person; often seemingly lost in thought as he listened to the voice inside his head, even interacting with them as he would a real flesh-and-blood human. Though research in this area wasn’t definitive, he gathered most other holders didn’t even see or talk to them, or if they did, it tended to come in dream-like fragments and memories, much like how Sio re-lived Oda Nobunaga’s memories to tap into his strategic prowess. “Seriously, it can get pretty annoying at times...not to mention creepy, now that I think about it...” Adam’s faced darkened as he remembered the number of times Nightingale seemed to just choose his path for him--whether it was something as innocuous as which shirt to wear after a shower or menu item to order, or (his face blushed darkly at this memory) Nightingale’s shocked expression when he was staring at two smutty DVD covers, unconsciously asking her which one to indulge in. But those were just trivial things he usually didn’t care about (except maybe the porn, which was one incident that never repeated itself again); in the heat of the battle, like that time when she forced his hand and turned his eye towards the target on her heart... A shiver ran through him and he held her a little tighter, smoothing out stray strands of her chestnut hair. “Trust me, it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, if you think about it, it’s kind of like having an audience in your head all the time, whether or not you want it...”

The words seemed to have an effect on Sio, as she slowly digested their exact meaning. “Wait, so does that mean Nightingale can see what you see too?” Adam nodded. “Whoa...whoa, hey wait a minute, does that mean she can see when we, we’re...you know...” Her face flushed a brilliant red, her expression a cross between embarrassment and indignation. “Oh my god...! And what about my e-genes...just because I can’t really see them doesn’t mean they aren’t...spying on us?! Even Asao-san...! Oh god...our e-genes are peeping on us! Aaarrggh!” Sio punched her pillow in frustration. “Oda Nobunaga, if you’re listening--and I bet you are, you sneaky bastard--I swear, one day I’ll get you for being a perverted old man--!”

“Hey hey, calm down Sio, I doubt--well all right I can’t guarantee anything--but at least I know, Nightingale isn’t aware of everything I do,” Adam hastily moved the remaining pillows out of her reach before she could chuck them. “It’s more...complicated than that. I mean, it’s...” he sighed, wondering how to best explain this intangible yet crucial bond between an e-gene and holder. “Think of it this way: yes, Nightingale may always be in the passenger seat, but ultimately I’m the one who grants her access to what it is I’m experiencing. And I can assure you, she’s never once barged in during any...intimate, moments.” Or at least he hoped so; Nightingale was a fairly straight-laced woman, but sometimes Adam sensed a bit of mischief from her as well.

‘You’d better not be peeping around, you old hag...’

The words did little to calm Sio down however, her face still a brilliant shade of red as she hugged the pillow tightly. “Mo--ou! I can’t believe this...how come they can see us but I can’t see them...this sucks...” she pouted, although in reality there was not much they could do. E-genes were a pretty permanent part of them; the only reason Oda Nobunaga’s influence had diminished so much was precisely because Adam cut out the abnormal growth from her heart--taking much of the e-gene with it and only leaving just enough for her to manifest a hand cannon. “Well, I guess it is what it is...the price you pay for becoming a hero...”

“Don’t fret too much, Sio. I doubt they’d really do anything against your wishes,” Adam tried to reassure her. “At the end of the day, they are, first and foremost, looking out for our best interests. If you really don’t want them interfering in our lives, they won’t.”

“Hnn...Asao-san and Nightingale I can believe, but Oda Nobunaga...I dunno...” she muttered, glancing at him with wary eyes. “Don’t get me wrong--it’s not that I resent or hate him, even after what he did...after all, Hunter did tell me about the theory of e-gene corruption after so many generations, so I can’t exactly blame him, especially when he has helped me out so many times...but I mean, he is known as the Demon Warlord for a reason...”

That, and it was just slightly disconcerting to realize all the potential moments she could’ve let her personal thoughts and emotions slip through... ‘Then again, aren’t I supposed to be his reincarnation or something? So theoretically, I am Oda Nobunaga, as well...’

“Oy, cheer up love.” A gentle pat on her head brought her out of her thoughts. “I doubt it’s the disaster you’re imagining it to be, demon lord or not,” he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure Asao-san won’t let that git do anything. And worst case, if I do ever catch him peeking out...well, rest assured he’ll hear it from me. If anything, I’ve probably got more t’ worry about...”

“Huh?”

“Well, you know what they say--out of sight, out of mind, right? Kind of hard for me to do since I can’t exactly turn off this ability...” Vaguely he wondered if his keen perception of e-genes wasn’t also tied to the ‘Voice of God’, that allowed him to view things others couldn’t. To his immense relief, nothing dubious had happened yet, but lately Adam couldn’t help but feel as if there were some invisible pressure that was...judging him, particularly when it came to making sure Sio was fully satisfied...

‘You say Oda Nobunaga’s the one to worry about, but why do I have a feeling it’s your friend Asao who’s the real concern...’ Suddenly a cold chill went down his spine, and he wisely decided to stop the train of thought right there and then.

“A-Anyway, don’t worry about it, squirt. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Adam swiftly changed topics before Asao-san really decided to come out and give him a piece of her mind. The last thing he wanted or needed was to get lectured on his performance in bed and the ‘proper’ way to please Sio from her best-friend-turned-e-gene, in full view of his own e-gene and that crazy warlord. ‘Besides, I’m her husband for Christ’s sake, I’d like to think I’ve got this down pretty well, thank you very much...’

“I hope so...but I guess you’re right, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. If having to put up with this means I’ll always have Asao-san with me...then I’m willing to accept it.” Sio unwound her arms from the now-crushed pillow, sinking backwards in exhaustion. “Oh man, that was a mental exercise...I’m tired again...”

Adam couldn’t help but smile, Sio’s whimsy really was too adorable at times. Some might mistake that for air-headedness, but he knew better than that. “Or, perhaps we can finally have some of that tea I mentioned earlier...?”

“Mm, can you bring it here? I’m too tired to move...” She grinned at him playfully, knowing full well Adam could never deny her requests. “Besides, if it were me, I’d probably spill half the teapot and drop the cups before I even made it back...”

That brought a roar of laughter from the man, who only shook his head but proceeded to get up, tying a yukata loosely around his waist for some modesty. “Of course, of course...sit tight, be back in a few...”

Sio only smiled wordlessly, taking another shameless peak at his chiseled ass before it was covered in the white cotton. When the heck did she go from a blushing, nose-bleeding, innocent high schooler to a shameless pervert who wasted no opportunity to catch her husband naked...sighing, she simply chalked it up to another one of those changes that occurred as you grew and went through life--or perhaps she’d never been that innocent to begin with.

Now that she thought about it, it would probably take Adam a decent amount of time waiting for the water to boil, then picking just the right blend of tea for this morning (he was quite peculiar about having a certain type depending on the mood), then letting it brew for the correct amount of time, not to mention fetching a matching set of cups and saucers...all told, it would probably be at least 20 minutes before he came back up. Which, her mind hungrily suggested, should probably be just enough time for some quick self-pleasuring...

Before Sio could weigh the pros and cons and even with the slight warning that her e-genes might possibly be aware of her actions, a hand slipped between her thighs, a finger gently caressing her pink pearl as tingles of pleasure instantly started running through her body and she felt her muscles start tightening with anticipation, her folds becoming moist with arousal. One aspect that surprised both of them was how high her libido was; even though she basically never masturbated or even thought about such matters before meeting Adam, in hindsight perhaps all that lust had been channeling into her military obsession, and only after meeting him did it find another outlet to express itself...

“Oh...god, it feels so good...” Moaning quietly to herself, Sio spread her legs a little wider, her fingers now soaked as she pumped them in and out, enjoying the sensations of something sliding against her g-spot. Her nipples were stiff and sensitive, her free hand wandering up to pinch them slightly and her walls convulsed around her fingers from the pleasure. At first she was concerned if she could finish before Adam came back but at the rate her body was heating up, she’d be lucky to last another 5 minutes at most; her libido, combined with a wild imagination as Adam’s smooth, pale warmth came back into her mind, caused Sio to feel horny beyond belief. Her body was sweating as she arched against the sheets, torn between drawing out the pleasure or just letting it all go into one furious orgasm. ‘I-I can’t believe...how good this still feels...e-even, after all this time...!’

Panting, she propped herself slightly on the pillows, gazing at her own naked body as her hand worked itself furiously between her thighs, Sio getting incredibly turned on as she watched her own fingers pleasure herself. Her juices were streaming down her fingers onto the sheets, and the musky scent of arousal caused her to moan with ecstasy as she recalled all the times Adam ate her out, tongue licking and teasing her swollen pussy. Maybe it was the thrill of trying to discreetly masturbate while her husband was downstairs, or maybe she really was just a shameless pervert, but whatever the reason, this time all her senses seemed to be turned up to 11--every touch and sensation threatened to send her crashing over the edge, her insides throbbing in time with her pulse as her fingers rubbed tight, little circles around her clit.

A slight whimper escaped her lips but she bit it down, careful to not let her voice get too loud. Another aspect they discovered (and Sio was embarrassed by) was her tendency to be quite vocal during sex. Whether it was dirty talk or begging to be fucked raw, or the random stutters and and moans she uttered, it was a good thing they didn’t have neighbors to contend with...

“Oh...ooh, god...I’m close...” Her bud was tingling with pleasure and the heat swelled until she was sure it would burst, Sio writhing hard against the bed as her thighs started trembling in anticipation. ‘It’s good...it’s so good...feels good like this...’ Her hand moved faster against her insides, back arching as Sio dug in her heels for the inevitable climax. “Nnnngg...! Mada...!”

Her breathing all but stopped, all senses now focused solely on the fingers pulsing against her g-spot and the single digit caressing her swollen clit, Sio clenching her teeth and biting her lips as the pressure built to its highest peak...and a second later she crashed over helplessly, gasping hard for air while her body shook unevenly, hips thrusting against her own hand as she moaned in pleasure. The sheets were damp underneath her crotch, fingers now sticky and wet as her juices dripped out as she sighed in limp satisfaction. Lazily she glanced at the clock, which indicated a mere 12 minutes had passed. That, combined with the fact she didn’t hear Adam at the door yet meant she’d successfully masturbated while her husband was unaware, so she proceeded to shut her eyes for a quick rest while she waited his return.

Or at least, so she thought...

#documentation #!nsfw #my sweetest one #//why #//do drabbles never stay short #//and fluff #//turns into smut #//I JUST WANTED SOMETHING SWEET AND SIMPLE BUT LOL NOPE

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flutterclouds · 6 years

Text

Poses and Picnics

Original request by @level99eevee.

Harsh sunlight filtered through the window, flooding the small room with light. Runa untucked her head from her wing, lazily opening one eye to see what had disrupted her sleep. Gauging the sun’s position high in the clear sky, she assessed that it was about noon. Unbothered by this fact, she tucked her head back underneath her wing in order to return to her previous slumber.

Only moments later, Runa practically leaped out of her straw bed, her mind going a mile a minute. Crap, I slept in! She ran out of her room towards Pastel’s main living space. The owner of said space was nowhere to be seen, however. She chided to herself, of course, he’s probably at the store by now.

A feeling of dread crept into her groggy consciousness, nagging at her. I swear there was something I had to do today, but what? The memory of her plans for the day had eluded her, leaving her perplexed.

Pacing the floor, Runa was struck with an idea. I know! If I take a stroll around town, perhaps it could help me remember my plans. Hurriedly hopping towards the front door, she decided that she would stop by Pastel’s shop first.

Shutting the bright purple door behind her, Runa was greeted by the sight of the gentle green slopes of Breezy Town. The sun shone bright in the clear midday sky, not a cloud to be seen. It’s another beautiful day in Breezy Town, I suppose. Heading uphill slightly to reach the square, Runa contemplated her predicament. I can’t believe I’ve been here for about a month and a half already. I thought I’d come across some kind of clue in that time period, but I suppose I expected too much. Still, everyone’s been so welcoming, so it isn’t all that bad. I’ll just have to keep my spirits up.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Pastel’s shop. As always, he was greeting a customer with a smile, showing off his wares. In this case, Flynn was the lucky customer. However, the Camerupt seemed to have been subjected to Pastel’s infamous ramblings for so long, he must have fallen asleep right there.

Catching sight of Runa, the balloon Pokémon waved one string, as if to beckon her over to the stall. She approached the counter, standing beside a still asleep Flynn.

Nudging her head in Flynn’s direction, she whispered, “How long has he been out?”

“I’m not sure. I was trying to sell him a TM, and the next thing I know, he’s asleep,” Pastel replied in a hushed tone.

“Why don’t we wake him up?” Runa asked.

Pastel edged closer to her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. First of all, I think he might get mad. Second of all, once he falls asleep, it’s hard to wake him up. Third, he asked me to help him fall asleep.”

“Asked you?” Runa asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, he’s been having trouble sleeping the past few nights, so he asked me to just keep on talking in order to help him fall asleep. According to him, I ramble on too much,” Pastel huffed in exasperation.

Ignoring Pastel’s grumblings, Runa asked, “But still, is it okay for him to sleep standing up in the middle of the square?”

Pastel nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll wake him up in about twenty minutes. Besides, I’m worried about him. He needs his sleep.”

Nodding, Runa replied, “Alright, I think I get the gist of your reasoning. I hope you two find a solution for his sleep problems.”

Smiling knowingly, Pastel asked, “Speaking of sleeping, you sure woke up late this morning. Were you up again reading all those records from the Archive again?”

Nodding sheepishly, Runa confessed, “Yeah, sorry about that. To be honest, I think I had something planned today, but I can’t remember what. So, in order to remedy that, I decided to walk around town to see if anything jogs my memory. Pastel, do you have any idea what I could have had planned for today?”

Turning around several times, Pastel frowned, his strings crossing like arms. He sighed, concentrating. “Well, the only thing I can remember that might have had anything to do with plans was last night when Blair invited us over for dinner. If I recall correctly, he invited you to meet him on Moonlight Hill this afternoon. You agreed, but I was so distracted by all the delicious food that I kinda ignored the rest of the conversation.”

Unconsciously tapping her foot, Runa contemplated Pastel’s story. Yeah, that definitely sounds familiar. But, what is there to do on Moonlight Hill? I’ve only seen it from a distance, but I haven’t made time to check it out. First things first, I have to find Blair.

“Pastel,” she began, “where is Blair?”

Pointing one heart-tipped string at the hill in question, he responded, “Up there. He went up there with a basket a few hours ago. What he’s doing up there so early, I have no idea.”

Runa’s mind began to race. Wait, he’s been up there a few hours already. Does that mean I’m late? Oh, this is not good, not good at all. I have to hurry! And then, I have to apologize for forgetting about the plans we made.

Rushing away from the stand, Runa called from over her shoulder, “Thank you, Pastel! I’ll see you tonight!”

Waving, he replied, “No problem, be sure to say hi to Blair for me!”

Scrambling through the square, Runa splashed through Lunar Stream, ran past the old berry farm, and made her way up to Moonlight Hill.

Hiking up the slope, she noted the colorful flowers of all hues that dotted the landscape. Parallel to her, Lunar Stream trickled down the hillock, through the center of town, and to the ledge of a small cliff, where it tumbled down into the sea. It really is beautiful around here. No wonder Blair chose this spot. Speaking of Blair, there he is!

Picking up her pace, Runa finally made it to the top of Moonlight Hill, where she spotted Blair doing stretches of some kind.

“Blair!”

The Pokémon in question turned around, a wide smile on his face. “Runa, I’m glad to see you made it! I was beginning to get worried that you were sick or something.”

Shaking her head, Runa walked over to where Blair was standing, only to notice that he had set up a red and white checkered mat on the grass next to Lunar Lake. A basket rested on top of it.

“Blair,” she began, “I’m so sorry about making you wait, especially when you’ve been up here for hours. I stayed up really late last night reading. Because of that, I overslept and forgot about our plans. Once again, I’m truly sorry for making you wait,” she said earnestly.

Putting both his paws up as if to clear the air of Runa’s concerns, he said, “Runa, it’s okay. Sure, I was little worried that you didn’t want to hang out, but you’re here now. I appreciate that you’re so concerned about my feelings, but trust me, there’s no way I would get mad at a friend for being a bit late. That’s not who I am.”

Runa paused. Wait, he considers me a friend? Up till now, I just thought of us as cordial acquaintances, but looking back on it, he is one of the Pokémon I’ve grown closest to in this world since arriving. Yeah, at this point, I would consider us friends.

Runa nodded. “Thank you, Blair. Actually, I’ve begun to think of you as a friend as well.” A sudden buttery aroma filled her nostrils. “Wait, what is that delicious smell?”

Blair’s smile widened. “That would be lunch.” Approaching the basket, he opened it, taking out two plates. He patted the spot next to him on the blanket, a signal asking that Runa join him in the meal.

Shuffling to the checkered mat, Runa sat, waiting to see what was the source of the scrumptious smell. Blair carefully transferred a stack of three pancakes to Runa’s plate, and another three to his.

Offering Runa her plate, Blair said, “Here. I know these are your favorite.”

With her mouth watering, she eagerly took the plate with both wings, setting it back on the blanket.

“Thank you!”

Almost immediately, she dug in, using the tip of her beak to rip off small pieces of the fluffy pancake. In the manner that many flying type Pokémon eat their food, Runa swallowed the bite of pancake whole.

A sudden thought piqued her interest. “How did you keep the pancakes warm all the way up here?”

Letting out a small chuckle, Blair replied, “Well, Bloom gave me several stones that are used to keep food warm on the go. It’s a trade secret in the catering business.”

Satisfied with his answer, Runa returned to her task of devouring the pancake stack. Blair, on the other hand, nibbled away at his stack, happy to see his friend enjoy the meal he had prepared.

After both stacks were polished off, they both sat back, staring up contentedly at the azure sky.

“Hey,” Runa began, “what were you doing before I arrived?”

“Well,” Blair paused for a moment, “I was stretching after practicing my posing.”

“Posing?” Runa asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“Yeah, I have a dream, you see. I want to join an Investigation Team. Flynn once told me that many teams have their own poses, so I want to have a pose of my own.”

He’s mentioned Investigation Teams before, Runa thought, although I’m still not sure what being on a team involves.

Feeling emboldened, she asked, “Could you show me your pose?”

Blair looked pleasantly surprised. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

Runa shook her head, smiling slightly. “Of course I don’t mind. I’m interested in seeing your method.”

Standing up, Blair nodded. “Alright, I’ll do it!”

Facing Runa, he bent his knee slightly, so one foot arched a bit as it dug into the dirt behind him. Then, he stuck out one paw, pointing a single digit towards the sky. His tail lashed once, twice. He winked, his mouth curling into its usual smile.

Runa clapped, “That looks like a lot of fun, Blair.”

He gestured his previously pointed paw towards her. “Would you like to join me in posing practice?”

“Sure.”

Standing up, she stood back to back with Blair. She straightened her spine, extending her wings as if she was about to take off into the blue yonder. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Blair staring back. They burst into laughter, collapsing on the grass in a fit of giggles.

Extending one paw as if he could grasp the sky, he began, “Hey, Runa?”

“Yeah?” she asked, feeling drowsy lying on the soft grass.

“I think your pose is amazing. You want to join me in practice sometime?”

“Sure. It’s a promise.”

@eev99art @lovepmd

#pokemon mystery dungeon #glitch au #completed request #team eventide #fan fiction

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dyde21 · 7 years

Text

Cafe Half-Caff 1: The Orientation

Hey there! This is the first chapter of my new PJO Percabeth series. It’s going to be a pretty long one based off the plan forming in my head. Absurd amounts of fluff, and hopefully antics ahead. I will be cross posting this to my FF.net account under the same name. This first chapter is a little shorter to gauge interest, and I will be continuing it, but please let me know if you enjoy it so far. It’d help motivate me. =P Anyway, enjoy!

XxXxXxXxX

Percy shoved his hands just a little farther into his sweatshirt pockets as a shiver racked his spine. He was really starting to regret not bringing the jacket his mom had recommended. Nestling up in the corner of the doorway, between the glass pane and the slight lip of the brick wall, Percy tried to hide from the wind chill. 7:30 was far too early for orientation. In fact, if he wasn't so desperate for this job he would have seriously considered just looking for another job. Clearly anyone who could schedule an appointment like this had to be heartless.

Pulling out his phone, he stared at the screen through the slight fog of his breath.

7:02

Great. Only 28 minutes left to go.

He had spent the past night at his mom's, partially because she wanted to give him some advice to actually keep this job, and partially just because he missed her. Moving out had made him miss her more than he thought he would.

Unfortunately, his mom had gotten a call early that morning that owner of the candy shop she worked at wanted to meet with her, mentioning a promotion. Which meant that she wouldn't be able to drive Percy to work like she had promised, so he could either walk there on his own, or be dropped off early. He had opted for the later, hence finding himself waiting around in the crack of dawn for orientation from some cruel person who would subject him to this.

Mentally, he made a note to never get picked up by his mom again, he refused to lose access to his car. There was no way he would suffer this ungodly fate again. He also made a note never to visit Canada. Any place this cold couldn't be that great.

Sliding down the wall, he got settled in the corner as he pulled his knees up to his chest and shivered in the breeze. It was slowly getting warmer, but his breath was still visible in the fall morning. A yawn escaped his lips as he pulled his hood more over his head. Shifting his weight to get a little more comfortable in his cranny, he let his eyes slide shut.

He wasn't exactly used to waking up this early. He figured he wouldn't pass out, but resting up just a bit before orientation would probably be a good thing. He needed all the energy he could get, especially considering he wasn't the best at learning new things quickly and he desperately wanted to make a good impression.

He would just close his eyes for a moment, that was it.

What Percy hadn't expected to happen, was to feel something nudging his foot. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see a pair of shockingly gorgeous gray eyes and curly blonde hair staring back at him with an amused smirk.

“You drool when you sleep.” Was all she said before she stood up again.

Quickly wiping away the drool on his face, mentally dying on the inside Percy quickly scrambled to his feet. “Uh- sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'm just waiting for...”

“Orientation, right? I take it you're Percy Jackson, the new guy?” The voice asked, the amused tone still in her voice. “I'm surprised you could sleep in this weather.” She offered, stepping back.

Percy ducked his head, hoping the rosy color in his cheeks looked like wind chill versus the blush that was currently dominating him.

Of course the person training him had to not only wake him up, but also be almost criminally attractive.

“It's early.” He muttered. “I haven't gotten up this early... ever.”

The blonde just laughed, her laugh sounding like wind chimes to Percy. Utterly unfair. She held out one of the two cups she held in her hand. “Here's a peace offering for calling you out so early. I don't know what kind of coffee you like so I got you hot chocolate. I hope that's okay.” She said, her voice trailing off slightly at the end in a hint of worry.

Taking the cup gratefully, Percy took a sip.

“Wait! It's a li-” She winced as she saw Percy flinch. “A little hot...” She finished.

Ignoring the scorching pain and increasing numbness in his mouth Percy smiled. “Thank you... uh...”

The girl's eyes widened as she realized she hadn't introduced herself. Offering her hand, she smiled a bit sheepishly. “Annabeth Chase. I'm one of the two managers here.”

Percy shook her hand, impressed with her firm grip. He quirked an eyebrow. “Manager?” He muttered a bit subconsciously.

A challenging smirk crossed Annabeth's face. “Is that a problem?”

Quickly shaking his head Percy raised his hands in a show of peace. “I'm just impressed. I think we're the same age, and you're already a manager.”

“I've been here for years.” She replied with a slight shrug, though Percy saw the proud grin she was trying to suppress. Looking him over for a minute, she tilted her head slightly. “22?”

“23.” Percy replied.

“Same here.” She offered, before a shiver wracked her spine. “Let's get inside. I'm not like you, I don't enjoy sleeping in the cold. I prefer the nice heater we have.”

She fished out a set of keys as she unlocked the door, holding it open for him.

Quickly ducking into the cafe, Percy looked around curiously. He had only been in there twice before. Both times swarming with customers. Once to drop off his resume, once for an interview with a girl named “Reyna.”

The cafe was pretty simple, but elegant. Most of the outside walls were glass planes, and various booths littered the walls. A spread of tables dotted the floor, all with the chairs upside down on them. The far back wall had the three registers, and the wall of various prepackaged coffee beans. One side of the counter was a massive display case that usually contained various pastries and other food. Behind the display Percy could see what looked like a kitchen window, and the echoes of some sort of kitchen beyond it.

The color scheme was a earthy green and black, very sleek and pleasant. Not too fancy, but also nice enough.

Subconsciously taking another sip as he looked around, Percy winced as he burned the roof of his mouth again. Right. Lava was in his cup.

“It looks completely different in the morning without all the people here. Much cleaner and organized, I wouldn't get too used to it though.” Annabeth offered as she unwrapped her scarf and moved behind the counter. “You coming? Or are you deciding what to order.” She teased.

Percy had jumped at her voice, momentarily forgotten she was there. Luckily he hadn't squeezed too hard because he really didn't want to spill burning coffee all over himself on his first day. He had made enough of an impression already.

He followed her a bit nervously towards the back, starting to feel some nerves set in.

Annabeth lead him to a small room off to the side of the back. Inside was a table, some lockers, a sink, and a fridge. It was small, but organized well. It felt bigger than it was, much like the front of the shop.

“This is the break room. Your locker is the top right one. You can bring a lock if you like, but we all trust each other here. Nothing's gone missing yet. Well, aside from some food from the fridge. I'd put your name on that.” She offered, a light-hearted smile on her face.

Annabeth quickly deposited her bag into her locker.

Quickly pulling off his hoodie, Percy bunched it up and put in the back of his locker. When he freed his head, he could have sworn he saw Annabeth's eyes staring at him for a moment, but a heart beat later and she was looking down at a phone so he figured he was imagining it.

He dumped his keys in the locker as well before he closed it, turning around to find Annabeth leaning against the table.

“I heard good things about you from Reyna. I'm sure you know this, but she's the other manager. Also the only person aside from the owner who has been here longer than me. A bit of advice, I'd try to stay on her good side. She's a nice person, but she takes her job seriously and will do what it takes to keep this place as successful as it has been. You do good work, and you'll be treated well.” Annabeth offered with a friendly smile.

Nodding, Percy made a mental note of that.

“But... I read that this is your 5th job this year?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow with a relatively neutral expression.

Percy's head drooped again. Great. Lifting it, he looked back at her with a sheepish grin as she scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I have... bad luck. Trouble has a way of finding me, or so I hear. I promise you I will work hard.” He said a bit too earnestly. He needed this job. He couldn't go home to his mom with bad news again.

Annabeth studied him for a moment carefully. “I believe you.” She said after a moment. She nodded to herself, as if satisfied with the answer to another unspoken question. “We'll just have to keep you out of trouble then.” Pulling out a bag from another locker, she tossed it at him. “You said you were a medium, right? Put that on and meet me in the front. There's a bathroom over the-” Her voice trailed off.

Percy raised an eyebrow, in the middle of shimmying the new shirt on, his old one discarded onto the table. Realizing he probably should have just stripped his shirt off in front of his new manager, he quickly pulled it down. “Sorry! I'm sorry. I just wanted to be quick...”

“It's” Annabeth's coughed once. “It's okay. I just wouldn't do that around Hazel.” She offered, turning and walking away quickly.

Percy could have sworn her cheeks had looked a little pink. He paused for a moment to drop his head against the lockers with a soft thud. He had known his manager for all of 10 minutes and he had already screwed up so many times. If he made it through the day it would be a miracle.

Quickly following his new manager out, he saw her starting to flip the chairs back down so he joined her.

“Normally you most likely won't be opening, but it's easier to teach you the ropes before everyone gets here. Easier to answer questions, the like. Speaking of which, please ask questions. I'd rather answer your question, than clean up your mess.” Annabeth explained, a smirk on her face.

Percy nodded, setting down another chair. “So... Reyna mentioned I was a waiter?” He asked, a bit confused. Most cafe's didn't have waiters of this size.

Nodding, Annabeth motioned for him to follow as she moved back behind the counter.

“You'll be a waiter/cashier. We usually get pretty busy during the days, so when things are hectic we'll have you be a runner. We also may have you be a cashier if it's slower or we need the extra hands at the registers.”

Percy nodded, a clearly a bit nervous. Handling money was a scary prospect for him. He saw Annabeth purse her lips for a moment before she scooted over and gestured. “Here, it's not that bad. I'll teach you the ropes.”

About ten minutes later, Percy had managed to successfully enter three orders. Annabeth beamed next to him, clasping a hand on his back. “Good job. You'll get the hang of it in no time, and we won't leave you stranded while you learn. I'll be here if you get stuck or have questions.” She promised.

Grinning in return, Percy turned to face the blonde. “You're a really good teacher. I'm not sure many other people could have taught me that.”

Annabeth just scoffed. “Give yourself more credit. You're smarter than you think.”

Before Percy could reply, there was a knock on the door. Instantly his heart sank to his stomach. He wasn't ready for the day yet.

Sensing his distress apparently, Annabeth just laughed. “Don't worry. It's just Leo and Hazel. One of our chefs, and one of our bakers respectively. They have to get here early to prep for the day.” She explained, moving over to open the doors and let them in.

They had both been in the middle of some conversation when they froze and saw him.

“Hey there new guy! I'm Leo. Don't worry, I'll take you under my wing.” The Latino boy said happily as he walked in, offering a big grin and a wave.

The younger girl walked up closer, offering a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, my name is Hazel. You're the new waiter, right?” She asked, with a slight tilt to her head.

Nodding, he highfived Leo who seemed to be holding out for him, before turning to Hazel. “Yeah. My name's Percy. Nice to meet you.”

Hazel just nodded. “By the way, what's your favorite pastry?” She asked, a slight glint in her eye.

Percy was caught off guard, but thought for a moment. “Probably those bear claws. The ones with the apple in them?”

Hazel nodded, still beaming. “I love those too! That's good to know.” She said, a slight wink before she headed towards the backroom with Leo.

Annabeth just grinned. “Don't worry, you'll love them. Leo's a bit crazy but he's a good cook. Hazel is also a bit young, but our best baker. Her treats are to die for. If she offers you one, never say no.” Annabeth said with a laugh.

Percy nodded. “Right.

Reaching under the counter, Annabeth handed Percy a half apron. “Here, this will be useful. Today will be just you and Jason. But it's also our slowest day of the week so we shouldn't have too much traffic. Speaking of which...” She trailed off as she moved to let two more people into the shop.

A blonde boy and a girl with a feather in her hair both entered the shop.

“Oh! You must be the new boy. I heard Reyna talking about you. I'm piper, pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a handshake. Immediately she walked over to one of the espresso machines and started making something.

“Piper, we're not supposed to make ourselves drinks.” Annabeth warned half-heartedly.

“Don't worry, I'm making you one too. Besides, you owe me this, calling me in early and everything.” She said.

Annabeth just rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. Seeing Percy's amused, and slightly confused expression the manager decided to explain. “We've been friends since high school. That's why she doesn't show me any respect. She's also the primary cashier usually, and works the espresso machines.”

“When she's working, our job is pretty easy. She's quick and customers love her so our lines are shorter.” The boy offered. Offering a firm handshake he continued. “Jason. I think I've seen you around campus. Swim team, right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Percy nodded. “Yeah. You... soccer, right?”

Jason nodded as well. “Yeah.”

Annabeth clicked her tongue. “Swim team.” She muttered to herself, as if she had answered a question that had been plaguing her.

Piper walked over, and whispered something that had Annabeth's cheeks turn red and had her swat her best friend's shoulder. “I could have you fired for that.”

“Nah.” Was Piper's only response.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, taking the drink offered. “No respect. Don't pick up those habits from her Percy.” She warned, half teasing.

A grin crept on Percy's face. It seemed like this place would be pretty fun. Which was a relief, considering he planned on sticking with this job as long as fate would let him.

“Anyone else coming in today?” Jason asked as he returned from the break room, tying his own half apron around his waist.

Annabeth thought for a moment. “I think Reyna wanted to drop by at some point and check in on how Percy's doing. Frank has mid shift, he'll be by later. Aside from that, other than the evening crew, it's just us.”

Still standing there a bit awkward, Percy perked up as he smelled something amazing starting to come from the back room.

“That'll be Hazel's magic. She's a magician in the oven, I swear.” Jason offered, sniffing the air himself.

Laughing slightly, Percy felt his nerves ease ever so slightly.

“We're opening up in thirty.” Annabeth announced, returning from her office with a clipboard. “Percy, come with me. We have some more paperwork for you to do. Jason, take care of front prep please? Piper help him out.” Annabeth instructed as she moved Percy back towards the break room.

They all offered some form of acknowledgment as Percy saw begin some well rehearsed routine.

About twenty five minutes of tedious paperwork later, Annabeth finally straightened the stack on the table before she put it away. Offering him a sympathetic smile, she cocked her hip. “That's done with finally. Now you can legally work here and all that. And...” She checked her watch. “Just in time.”

Leading him back out, Percy was surprised by the different atmosphere in the cafe. There was the subtle smell of a mix of baking and food from the back kitchen area that made the place more inviting. Coffee was boiling from the front, and all the tables had been wiped down and looked ready to go. Jason was sweeping a bit, and Piper was filling out some log near the registers.

“Here we go.” Annabeth said, glancing over at Percy.

Apparently the sense of dread and fear that washed over him was visible as he felt Annabeth rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it's going to be okay. Jason will have your back today, and we're all here if you need help. You'll do fine, don't worry. I'll cut you some slack today.” She said a playful tone masking a genuine promise.

Percy felt his nerves calm down to a dull throb and nodded. He could do this. He wouldn't screw this job up like the others. Too much was riding on it, and he was honestly looking forward to working with everyone.

Moving to the front, Annabeth offered him one last friendly grin before she flipped the close sign to open.

“We're open now. Good luck everyone.”

XxXxXxXxX

That’s the end of the first chapter! Kinda short for what you can expect, but I’ve been super eager to get this out. I really hope you guys like this, and some of you get as excited for this as I am! Thanks for reading and please look forward to the rest!

#percabeth #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth Chase #Cafe Half-Caff #I'm super excited for this #I think this is going to be a really fun one #I have quite a few ideas planned out for this

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the-truest-sentence-i-know · 4 years

Text

The Tutor’s Son (ch 3)

Fandom: Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper

Pairing: Anneliese x Julian

Rating: G

Summary: Duty or love; which would you choose? •♡• Anneliese is living the life of a princess: attending important events, going to council meetings, and being trained by her mother to take the throne one day. Then a childhood friend comes back into her life and she is faced with a difficult decision: Duty or love?

(other chapters)

ao3 ||| ff.net ||| wattpad

We decided to meet in the library at nine-thirty the next morning to discuss what we would study. After breakfast, I walked down to the library, my favourite pink gown swishing around my ankles.

Pushing the library door open ahead of me, I looked around, but didn't see Julian. I was rather early, so I browsed the shelves, looking for a new book to read. As I turned a corner, I bumped into somebody.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said quickly, looking up to see Julian's blue eyes centimeters away from mine. I had forgotten how bright his eyes were.

After a few seconds, Julian blinked and shook his head quickly. "Oh, it was my fault, Your Highness." He quickly stepped away.

I sighed. "No, no, I should really look where I am going. And, also, please just call me Anneliese. You always used to."

He looked at me again, a more confident smile spreading over his face. "Of course, Anneliese."

We walked to the large table at the back of the library. "Of course, in front of my mother the formal title will need to be used."

"Just like the old times," he said, looking aside at me with a smile.

Sitting down at the table, I noticed a large pile of books that Julian had clearly already stacked there. He began to sort through them as he sat down.

"So, my father said you are particularly interested in the natural sciences."

"Yes, specifically geology."

"Geology, interesting," he leaned more comfortably in his chair. "So how many of the geology books in this library have you read?"

"All of them."

He blinked. "All of them?"

"I mean, I have not studied all of them extensively, but, yes, I have read all of them."

"Alright," he said, a smile spreading over his face. "Let's do a quiz."

I grinned. This is going to be fun. "Are you well-versed in geology, then, Julian?"

He grinned. "Quite."

Sitting forward and squaring my shoulders, I looked at him expectantly.

"Let's start with something fairly simple," said Julian. "What is stratigraphy?"

That is easy. "The fairly new study of rock layers and their layering, called strata and stratification respectively."

"What does cross-bedding always indicate?"

"Either ripples or dunes."

"What is the difference between these two?"

"Ripples are under six centimeters, and dunes are over six centimeters."

"What is centifolia?"

"A trick question," I said, smiling. "That is the specific epithet for the Provence rose, Rosa centifolia, also known as cabbage rose or Rose de Mai. Coincidentally, also my favourite flower."

He looked down at the table with a small smile. "What classification of mineral is stibnite?"

"Sulfide," I said confidently. "It's a sulfide mineral."

"Close, but no."

"Yes, it is," I insisted.

He shook his head. "No, it's not, it's silicate."

I raised my eyebrows. "Check the book."

"I will check the book," he said, taking it from the pile. He flipped to the right page, read a few lines, then sighed and shook his head. "You're right, it is in the sulfide class."

I smiled widely. "I told you I liked geology."

He returned the smile. "Clearly I do not have a lot to teach you when it comes to geology." He crossed something out in the paper in front of him. "What subjects do you struggle with?"

"History and mathematics."

"So, we can focus on those." He circled them on his list. "Anything else you'd specifically like to study?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Well, I would like to study many things, but I should work on my French, Spanish, and geography."

He circled these on his list as well. "Five subjects should probably be sufficient for now."

For the rest of the morning, he quizzed me in the five subjects to gauge my level. Around twelve-thirty, we both began to feel a bit hungry.

"I think that's probably enough for today," said Julian, closing the atlas.

"We could eat lunch in my room," I suggested as we set the books back on the shelves. "Then we could talk, too."

He smiled. "That would be lovely."

We went up to my room and I rang for lunch. Julian looked around the room as we passed through.

"I see that you recently had a portrait painted," said Julian, referring to the giant portrait of me on the wall.

"Yes," I said, looking up at it. "Kind of ridiculous, having it here, isn't it? It makes me seem narcissistic."

"I wasn't going to say it in that way," he said. "But, yes, a bit."

I shook my head and laughed.

"I assume that it was not your idea to have it hung here," he said as we walked out onto the balcony.

"No, definitely not."

We sat at the small table on the balcony, looking out over the garden.

"Remember when I tried to cure you of your fear of heights?" I asked.

Julian grinned. "Unsuccessfully, I might add."

"I probably just made it worse, didn't I?"

"Well, I very nearly fell to my death, so it would be safe to assume so," he said earnestly.

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration, I was-" I started, but stopped when I said that Julian was trying hard to keep a straight face.

We looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing, remembering all the lengths I had gone to to get Julian to climb trees with me.

There was a knock on the door. "Come on in, Maria," I called. "we're on the balcony."

The small redheaded lady's maid came onto the balcony with a tray laden with sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. Seeing her struggling with its weight, I quickly got up and took it from the smaller girl.

"Thank you, Maria," I said, setting it down on the table.

"You're welcome, highness," she said, dipping into a quick curtsey before leaving.

We each grabbed a sandwich and Julian poured us each a cup of lemonade.

"So," I asked. "How was university?" "Didn't you already ask me that last night?"

"Yes, but then we were in the presence of our parents." I grinned. "Now we can speak freely."

"I liked the professors and, like I said before, it had a wonderful library."

"And your fellow students?"

Julian paused a moment before answering. "They were..." he frowned. "alright."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed. "Most were of noble birth. They had all paid to be there. They all thought they deserved to be there more than I did."

I put my sandwich down. "That is ridiculous!" I exclaimed. "You were there through scholarships. I would warrant that you were one of the cleverest students there!"

Julian smiled. "I appreciate the sentiment, but don't worry, it didn't bother me very much. There were a few students I got a long with, who were there for the education, not the prestige."

"Oh, good," I said.

Just then, Serafina padded onto the balcony and hopped onto a chair. I stroked her head.

Julian put his sandwich down and turned to look at the white cat. "Who's this?" he asked, letting Serafina smell his head.

"Serafina," I said. "I got her two years ago."

"She looks very prim and proper," he said as Serafina primly folded her paws beneath her and curled up on the chair.

"Oh, yes, Serafina is a little lady," I said as we went back to our lunch. "Probably more of a lady than I 'll ever be."

We chuckled and continued to eat and chat. Before we realized how the time had flown, it was time for me to go to the Garden Society Tea.

°•♡•°

#barbie #barbie as the princess and the pauper #princess and the pauper #princess anneliese #julian #anneliese x julian #the tutor's son #barbie fanfiction #my writing #amwriting #writblr #fanfiction #wattpad #wattpadlife

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glitteringconstellations · 7 years

Text

Beacon (2/?)

words: 3509

Chapter 2: tell me truly, men of earth

The silence in the room became almost unbearable. Keith clenched his trembling hands into fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms. How dare they attack Earth. They’d only even been interested in the planet to begin with for the Blue Lion! Why hadn’t they left it alone after that?

The thought alone made Keith furious. He didn’t trust himself to say anything he wouldn’t regret, so instead he looked to his team, gauging their reactions. Hunk had slumped down into his chair, tears glistening in his eyes. Shiro stared blankly into the stars in the void the hologram’s absence left behind, his shock belied by his white knuckles where he hadn’t relinquished his grip on the chair in front of him. Pidge’s jaw and shoulders were squared, barely suppressed fury flashing behind the lenses of her glasses. Lance looked terrible. His whole body trembled something awful, and he had wrapped his arms around himself as though it would quell the tremors.

Allura and Coran exchanged worried glances. “Paladins, I assure you, we’re going to do all we can to free Earth—” Allura started.

“It’s our fault.”

Allura blanched, turning to face Lance fully. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s our fault,” Lance repeated in barely a whisper, guilt marring his face. “You heard what he said. They were looking for all of us. If not for that, they wouldn’t have been tinkering around with that Galra ship.” He looked from Hunk, to Pidge, to Keith, who bristled. All of us, except for me, he thought bitterly. He bit his tongue—antagonizing Lance would do no one any good right now.

“It’s our fault the Garrison basically summoned the Galra to our doorstep.”

Read on AO3

There was a long, tense moment where no one seemed to know what to say. Lance’s stature almost begged someone to challenge him. But no one would meet his eyes, the same guilt written clear as day on their faces. When it became clear no one else was going to say anything, Keith heaved a sigh.

“It’s no one’s fault but the Galra,” he bit out. Lance’s head snapped up. “What, are you going to stand there and blame Shiro for getting captured? Or Pidge’s dad and brother?” Pidge stiffened. Keith pretended he didn’t see that. Him and his big mouth. “Or Blue for bringing us all here?”

Lance looked horrified, like that hadn’t occurred to him. He opened his mouth to retort, but Keith cut him off.

“It’s no one’s fault,” Keith repeated. He held Lance’s gaze, daring him to argue. “There’s no point in playing the blame game.”

Shiro seemed to have collected himself, taking a deep breath. “Keith’s right, Lance. Besides, I hate to say it, but I think the Garrison would have looked into the shuttle I crashed, regardless of what happened after I crashed it.” He winced at the memory. Coran cleared his throat and picked up where Shiro left off.

“Precisely!” he said brightly, trying for optimism. “And, according to this Commander Kravitz, was his name? A large number of your kind have sought refuge in your Lunar Stations! That’s a good thing, yes?”

“Coran, five hundred thousand people is less than a hundredth of the human population,” Pidge choked, ever the mathematician. “There are over seven billion people on Earth.”

Coran deflated. “Oh… That does complicate things a bit, yes.”

“A bit?” Hunk said, his voice leaning toward hysterical. “A bit? Everything and everyone we hold dear are being held captive by the Galra right now because they slipped in under our noses while we’ve been out here, a trillion light years away! I think it’s safe to say it’s more than just a bit complicated!”

“That is quite enough!”

The shout startled all of them into a shocked silence. Even Keith jolted—they’d never heard quite that tone of voice coming from the Princess. After a beat of tense silence, Allura let out a frustrated sigh.

“You must believe me when I say I understand that this is devastating news,” she started. Guilt gnawed at Keith fast and sudden, and he could see by the looks on their faces the others felt it, too. Allura must be reliving the worst day of her life, right now. “But quarrelling will solve nothing. There is nothing to be done about the fact that the Galra have conquered Earth. In fact, I am sorry to say I believe it was only a matter of time before the Galra looked to use it as leverage against us.”

“But I will not let Earth suffer the same fate as Altea,” she continued firmly. “We have liberated planets from the Galra many times before. We can do it again. We are Team Voltron, after all.”

The Princess said it with such conviction, squaring her shoulders and looking each of them in the eye. Keith felt a surge of confidence he didn’t know was possible, given the situation. She was right, of course. They’d done it already before, what was stopping them from doing it again? They could do this.

“Right,” said Shiro, turning to his team. “You heard the Princess. Let’s save Earth.”

Slowly, but surely, determination set in on the faces of the Voltron team. Hunk and Lance exchanged a glance, no words passing between them but the meaningful look in their gaze spoke volumes. Nerves, and fear for their families. Determination to save them. Finally, they both nodded, and Hunk got to his feet.

Pidge looked around, settled her gaze on Keith, who met her with a level stare. Keith nodded, too, and it seemed to bolster Pidge.

“Okay,” she said, almost to herself. “Okay,” she said again, louder. “We can do this. Where do we start?”

Shiro looked to Coran, who raised his hands in deference. “You all are the experts of your galaxy. The Princess and I shall follow your lead.” Allura nodded earnestly in agreement. Shiro paused, then turned back to the Paladins.

“We should try making contact with the Orion first. The Lunar Stations are sitting ducks out there. If we can get them out of there, maybe wormhole them out to a safer quadrant, then we can focus on drawing the Galra’s attention without the risk of them getting caught in the crossfire. Unless anyone else has any other ideas?”

No one said a word.

A small, if not strained smile graced Shiro’s lips. “Good. Let’s get to work, then.”

---

“Sir, we… we’re receiving an incoming transmission!”

Henry Kravitz had never been a religious man. But as he spun around and stared, as did his crew, at the engineer who had sprung to her feet in disbelief, the Commander felt as though he could believe in a higher power. Surely, this was nothing short of a miracle.

Or a trap, the rational part of his mind reasoned. They had no way of knowing who was on the other end of the line, with his communications to and from Earth scrambled. It could be them. In all his years, never once did he think he’d have a run in with aliens, of all things, let alone hostile ones.

“Sir, your orders? Should we accept it?”

Still… They didn’t have much to lose. It was only probably a trap, against the very real threat of certain death.

“Put it on the main screen,” he ordered. “Make sure the connection is as encrypted as the Rosetta Stone.”

“Yes, sir.”

The screen flickered into life in a flash of static and white noise as the engineer’s fingers flashed over her keyboard, adjusting the connection for the transmission. Kravitz nearly tapped his foot in impatience—it never took usually more than three seconds to establish a connection from Earth. Belatedly, he realized it meant that the transmission was coming from very, very far away.

Soon enough, a figure came into focus. A young woman stood before them, dark skinned with striking blue eyes and strange markings on her face. She looked remarkably human, and Kravitz might have thought she was, were it not for the pointed tips of her ears peeking out from behind strands of pure white hair. Behind her seemed to be the cockpit of a high-tech warship, if he had to hazard a guess.

She didn’t look evil. But then again, he hadn’t actually seen the faces of the hostiles behind the guns that shot up his planet.

So he waited for her to identify herself, eyeing her suspiciously. She didn’t hesitate.

“Greetings, Commander Kravitz,” the young woman said, her voice steady and regal, but not unkind. “I am Princess Allura of Planet Altea. We received your distress call and wish to offer you our aid.”

Excited murmurs broke out behind him.

“We just sent out that distress call two hours ago!”

“An alien princess?”

Kravitz held his chin high, nonplussed. “How do we know we can trust you? We have hostile aliens ravaging our planet. How do we know you’re not one of them?”

The princess looked genuinely taken aback, as though she hadn’t expected that reaction. Good—keep the aliens on their toes. She briefly glanced to someone off-screen before regaining her composure.

“I apologize, Commander, for giving you cause for concern. I assure you, we are staunch enemies of the Galra Empire, the monsters responsible for the destruction your planet is surely witnessing. My team is the Voltron Force, comprised of five human pilots. They have as much at stake in the survival of your people as you do.”

What?

The mutters of the crew turned to cries of shock, very similar to the shock Kravitz felt himself. There were human pilots out there? But humans had never ventured further than Kerberos, and the world knew how well that had ended.

“Let me speak to them,” he demanded, at length. If the princess noticed his hesitation, or if she took offense to his tone, she didn’t show it. She merely stepped aside and let a pilot dressed in black armor appeared. The man took off his helmet, and Kravitz gaped.

“Shirogane?”

Behind him, four more pilots in an array of colored armor lined up, all sans helmets. Except for the surly looking kid in the red armor, Kravitz knew these pilots to be the missing Garrison cadets. The ones the world thought had been blown to smithereens.

Well, this certainly was unexpected.

The crew of the Orion was stunned into utter silence, Kravitz included. He had never met the young man in black, but his reputation preceded him, and Takashi Shirogane looked much different than the pictures ever showed him. Most notably, the deep gauging scar that ran across the span of Shirogane’s face had not been there the last time he’d been seen on Earth.

Shirogane took his silence as permission to seek. “It’s probably a lot to take in right now, sir, but I promise you, the Princess and her advisor are on our side. They are not your enemy—the Galra are. We’re going to get you out of there.”

There it was again—the Galra. “Can someone please explain to me what exactly these Galra are,” Kravitz barked, hating how strangled his voice sounded. “And what they want? And while we’re at it, can someone please explain how you five kids ended up piloting this—this Voltron Force?”

Shirogane shook his head. “There’s no time to get into detail, sir, much as I’d like to. Long story short, the Empire has been conquering worlds for over ten thousand years, draining planets of their resources and enslaving their people. My team is leading the rebellion to stop them, and I think that’s why they’re targeting Earth, now, after us being out here for so long.”

Kravitz could feel a headache coming on. He’d say this sounded insane, but he need only look out the viewfinder on the bridge back at the Earth engulfed in flames to know that this was very real. He took another long look at the paltry team of pilots on the screen, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And your team can extract us? How?”

The engineer shot a look of disbelief to her commander. “Sir? You’re going along with this? We can’t just leave Earth behind!”

“We don’t have a choice,” Kravitz snapped, turning away from the screen to glare at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re trapped here with our tail between our legs. If those things, those… those Galra find us here, we’re as good as dead. All of us, including all those people below deck we swore to protect.”

Cowed, the engineer hung her head, gripping her keyboard tightly.

Kravitz turned back to Shirogane, expectantly. The young girl in green armor cleared her throat and stepped forward.

“The tentative plan is to wormhole in to the closest location we safely can without blowing your cover. Probably somewhere in Mars’ vicinity,” she started. Gunderson, if Kravitz recalled correctly. No, that wasn’t right—she was a Holt, they’d found that out after she’d died.

Well, apparently died, anyway. He was going to need a strong drink after all this was said and done.

“—the Lions will draw their attention away while Allura and Coran hold the wormhole open to get all seven Lunar Stations out and through to safety,” Holt continued. “Worse comes to worst, we can use our particle barriers as cover. The Castle can take a pretty decent amount of fire, too, if need be. Or we could form Voltron.”

“Slow down, Pidge, you’re confusing the poor man,” the tall kid in blue chuckled. Kravitz’s head spun. Blue kid turned to face him, his expression sobering up. “With all due respect, sir, it’s easiest if you just follow the big blue circle. It’s pretty hard to screw up.”

“That’s all well and good,” said Kravitz. Assuming that all of their nonsense made sense to them, it was actually a pretty solid plan, except for one thing. “But what of the other six Lunar Stations? Is this wormhole going to be big enough for all of them, plus your fleet?”

To his surprise, Shirogane smiled reassuringly. “That won’t be an issue, Commander. Trust me.”

Not exactly generous with details, that one. Kravitz sighed. “What do you need us to do?”

“Get the other Lunar Stations briefed on the plan, and get your civilians strapped in as securely as you can,” said Shirogane. “We’ll be there in less than an hour. Once we get you out of there, we’ll fill you in on the rest as best we can.”

Kravitz nodded tightly. He waved to the engineer to cut the transmission, the five pilots vanishing from the screen.

“Get me the commander of the Auriga.”

---

It had been a long, long week.

Seleste sat on the cot next to her baby sister, singing softly and stroking the younger girl’s hair in hopes of coaxing her into a fitful sleep. Tear tracks stained Clara’s face, and Seleste knew she had a few of her own. It was only their second day on the Orion and Seleste felt she’d cried enough tears to last her a lifetime.

“A la nanita nana, nanita ella, nanita ella, mi niña tiene sueño…”

On the cot opposite her, Alvaro laid on top of his blankets, holding his wallet up so he could stare at the photo tucked in the clear pocket. She didn’t have to see the photo to know what it was, to know the fuzzy, smiling faces that stared back at him. Gabriel was perched on his knees beside Alvaro’s head, staring out the window into the stars.

They hadn’t had the chance to see them, up until now. There were no windows on the transport shuttle, which was probably for the better, Seleste thought with a shudder. The last thing she wanted to see was one of those… those alien ships up close. And then after three days of travel, they’d been herded into windowless quarantine chambers for a whole day to make sure they weren’t bringing disease into the station.

From the dark side of the moon, Seleste had to admit the skies beyond her planet were stunning, expansive beyond her wildest dreams and so eerily calm. Deceivingly so.

“Do you think Lance would have liked it out here?” Gabriel murmured, still staring. Seleste’s heart lurched, and her hand stilled in Clara’s hair. When she didn’t answer, Alvaro dropped his wallet to his side, turning his head to face his baby brother.

“I think he would have loved it, squirt. You know how he was, his head was always out in space.” He reached up and ruffled Gabriel’s hair for good measure.

Normally, Gabriel would have giggled and tried to knock his brother’s hand away. Seleste felt her lip tremble when he didn’t so much as twitch now. It was a gesture Lance always did. She swallowed the lump in her throat and kept singing, her hand resuming the gentle stroking.

“Bendito sea, bendito sea…”

Eventually, Seleste trailed off and silence fell between them again, save for the low murmur of the chatter from the other evacuees. The Orion wasn’t meant to house this many people, and the station had set up cots in just about every available inch of floor space to accommodate for the extra load. Even for Seleste, who was used to cramped quarters growing up in a house with six siblings, it bordered on claustrophobic.

When she was certain Clara had fallen deeply asleep, Seleste withdrew her hand and position herself further on the edge of the bed, facing her brothers. Alvaro had resumed staring at the photograph. Gabriel hadn’t moved. She sighed.

“I should be down there with Mamá,” she confessed quietly, picking at the hem of her dress.

Alvaro closed his eyes and grimaced, before sitting up. “Sis…”

“I’m not a child,” Seleste pressed on. “I’m 19. They shouldn’t have let me on board. I feel so terrible knowing that Mamá is down there, probably all alone, and who knows where Papá and Isa and Jules are, and…” she gripped the fabric in both hands, fighting off the burning tears. “I should be down there.”

A moment later, she felt a hand over hers, and she looked up. Alvaro looked close to tears himself, but he smiled sadly at her. “I feel the same, sis. I feel like a coward that I’m up here safe, not knowing where they are.” His eyes flickered over to Clara’s sleeping form. “But we couldn’t have let Clarita and Gabe come up here alone. And maybe you’re not a child, but I… I'm glad you’re here, sis. I couldn’t do it by myself.”

Seleste sniffled through a small smile. Trust her little brother to remain the voice of reason, even now when it felt like the end of the world. The familiarity was comforting.

“Thanks, Al.”

Alvaro grinned, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Anytime, sis.”

She swiped at the tears in her eyes and cleared her throat. Gabriel must have heard all of that, but still, she had to put on a brave face for her baby brother. “Gabe, come away from the window now. Let’s try and get some rest, okay? Mamá and Papá wouldn’t want us to get sick.”

Gabriel didn’t acknowledge her. She frowned. He’d been so uncharacteristically quiet since they boarded the shuttle. She looked to Alvaro in concern, who leaned over and put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Gabe?”

The boy finally turned over to look at them, and Seleste was on her feet in blink. He had a look of sheer terror on his face, a shaky hand raising to point out the window. Seleste and Alvaro both scrambled onto the cot behind him and peered over his shoulder. Seleste’s stomach churned in fear, and she reached for Alvaro’s hand without thinking.

No less than a full fleet of twenty alien battleships dotted the horizon, purple steel glinting in the starlight.

“I…” Gabriel stammered, petrified. “I think the bad guys found us.”

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #fic: beacon #my fics #my writing #keith #shiro #lance #pidge #hunk #oops i totally forgot to post this days ago #oh well

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the-honey-bear · 7 years

Text

Proposition

Title: Proposition

Summary: President Paradine asks Lieutenant Oswell to lead the Strahtan forces to Lhant.

Even now, he thinks he can see a trace of Hubert Lhant lingering in his eyes.

Rating: G

Wordcount: 1,804

>>> ao3 link <<<

“I have a proposition, Hubert.”

“Sir?”

Hubert stands facing his president in the palace. Shoulders back, hands clasped behind his back: the perfect posture drummed into him by five years of the academy, and his father’s mercilessly high expectations.

Yet despite his perfect posture and the deferential bow he’d swept into as effortlessly though he’d done it a hundred times before, Hubert feels sweat forming between the blades of his shoulders. Garett Oswell taught him to walk into any man’s house as if he owned it, but he’s only visited the presidential palace a handful of times, and this is the first time he’s visited the president’s own office. It archetypes all the glamour the capital has to offer. Indoor waterfalls and glittering surfaces sparkle back at him from every angle.

Like all Strahtans, Hubert is patriotic— because who can help but admire a glittering oasis that has been built, literally, from the sand? But at the same time, though he’d never admit it out loud, there’s a part of him that tires of the glitter and glitz of Yu Liberte, and feels a nostalgic longer for something simpler.

“Please, at ease, Hubert. Come take a seat.”

“Sir,” Hubert says again, rigidly taking the armchair before the disk, and curtly tucking the tail of his outfit out of the way. The president smiles wryly.

The president is no stranger to him. The first time they’d been met Hubert had been eleven years old, wearing uncomfortably rich and stiff clothes that had chafed unbearably. It’d been the first of many of his father’s endless galas, and Garett had spent the whole evening with his hand on Hubert’s back, steering him as if it were the rudder of a ship. Endless introductions with Important Strangers, whose faces blurred into one, and cries of, oh, isn’t he charming! Give us a smile, sweetheart. Are you shy?

Hubert had smiled that night until his face had gone numb, and then Garett had shoved him into the path of the most important stranger of the night, curtly whispering into his ear that he was to not mess this up, that it was imperative he made a good impression on this very important man or his new father would be very cross.

Hubert’s hand had been shaking when he offered it to the president, telling him that he was glad to meet him, and his father had told him very good things about him.

“I can imagine,” Paradine had said, something wry tucked into his smile. And then he’d done what no one else at the party had done and knelt down to Hubert’s level.

“Hubert, isn’t it? Our Garett’s new young protege. How are you enjoying Yu Liberte?”

“It’s— it’s beautiful, your Majesty,” he said stiffly. In the corner of his eye, Hubert saw Garett cover his face with his hand, and Hubert’s cheeks coloured as he realised the gaffe he’d made. “Um— I mean—”

President. Not king. He should have known that from his books.

But instead of mocking him, Paradine laughed. A deep booming laugh, and reached out to touch Hubert’s hair.

Just like his own father used to do.

“Please forgive my son. He is unused our customs—” Garett begun.

“No harm done, Garett. The young man here can hardly be expected to have picked up all our tiring and endless customs in just a few weeks,” the president said kindly. “You know, Hubert, when I was a boy I lived Oul Ray. When I was ten years old, my father packed up all my family and moved us here to the capital. I couldn’t stand it.”

Hubert stared at this open admission.

“Eventually, I learnt to love the city, but for those first few months I spent every day begging my father to let us go home.” He ruffled Hubert’s hair. “Being homesick is natural. So don’t feel like you need to get used to everything right away. You can adjust to things little by little.”

Though he spoke to him, Hubert saw the president’s eyes slide along to his father as he spoke. Paradine stood. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again, Hubert.”

“Y-you too, Sir,” Hubert had said.

Paradine shook Garett’s hand, somewhat stiffly. “Do go easily with the lad,” he said.

Garett had smiled, a smile full of slippery deviance and conniving. “Of course. Thank you for the advice, President.”

“Uh huh,” said Paradine, whose power clearly looked through the sort of men like Garett.

Then the hand was back on the rudder, and Garett was steering him away. Back to more mind boggling politics and power plays, into molding him into a young man worthy of the title Oswell. All the same, for a long time after that, Hubert thought fondly of the important man who’d put his hand on his head, and who had told him he understood.

Hubert doesn’t understand the President.

He’s the kind of man to call your by your first name and treat you as a friend, even if you’ve never met. He’s also, if the persistent rumours are true, the kind of man to spend his summer holidays masquerading as a commoner outside the city. It may be why he’s done what no Strahtan president has done and has been elected for his third consecutive term in office.

Seven years have passed since the day they met and the grey streaks in Paradine’s hair have taken over and there are more wrinkles when he smiles, but he still does smile. Which is more than can be said for Hubert himself.

Behind his back, Garett Oswell enjoys dropping seeds of dissension and mockery about the Paradine, but Hubert had always quietly admired their somewhat unorthodox president. Nor has he forgotten the kindness he paid him, all those years ago.

“What was this proposition you spoke of, Sir?” Hubert asks.

“I wondered if you’d heard anything from your hometown recently, Hubert,” the President says.

Hubert doesn’t let he surprise show at the question. “I believe they’re having some trouble with Fendel again, but I haven’t heard much,” he says, which is a mild way to put when he routinely grills any men that have returned from Windor. It’s how he’s aware that his brother is still wasting his time playing around at the knight academy, and that no one has seen King Ferdinand and Prince Richard outside the castle gates in years.

Along with several other, more troubling rumours.

Paradine presses a finger to his chin. Hubert can feel him watching him carefully, as though to gauge his reaction. “Trouble would be an understatement. Fendel seems to have developed several new high powered weapons, and they’re chipping away at Lhant’s defences. Our reports say they probably won’t be able to last out much longer.”

Despite himself, Hubert’s fingers dig into the armchair.

I’m a man of Strahta, he tells himself. Lhant isn’t my hometown any longer. And yet…

“How curious,” says Paradine. “I admit I was interested to see if you would rush off to go defend your homeland.”

“Strahta is my homeland,” Hubert says, stiffly. “I won’t desert it.”

“Your loyalty is admirable. But that’s not a choice I would ask you to make, Hubert. We’ve received a request for aid from Windor’s foreign ambassador, the King’s brother. With very lucrative terms. He’s offered us access to Lhant’s cryas mines in exchange for our aid.”

Hubert’s brow creases. “Shouldn’t this request be coming from Lord Aston? The Crown’s never stepped in to interfere with its autonomous states before.”

“You’re sharp, Hubert. There was another part of the deal as well, but I fear you probably wouldn’t wish to hear it. You were friends with Prince Richard as a child, weren’t you?”

Hubert nods, waiting for an incoming explanation. None, however, are forthcoming.

Thinking of the rumours he’d wrestled out of the sailors from the port at Barona, he feels a small sinking feeling in his stomach.

The president’s eyes seem to hold an apology. “We must look after the our own country, and our people first. Even if that doesn’t always seem to be the right moral decision,” he says, and there’s a heaviness to him, and oldness he’d never expected to see from the president.

Hubert realises he can’t resent the President for the decision he’s making.

He nods his head, stiffly. “Thank you for informing me, Sir. I appreciate it.” He moves to leave, but the President stops him.

“I’m not done just yet, Hubert. I believe I said I had a proposition for you, didn’t I?”

He sinks back down. “Sir?”

“I need someone to lead the forces to Lhant. As the former son of its lord, I believe you’d be the optimum choice in acquiring the people of Lhant’s co-operation. What do you say?”

“Me?” asks Hubert.

“Yes. You. Seven years is a long time. It would be quite the homecoming.”

Lhant isn’t my home, is the instinctual comment he bites down. There’s the lingering bitterness that presides in his gut, but more than that— Hubert wants to help. The thought of his hometown tramped by the cold boot of Fendel is too much to bear.

But— “What will I say to him?”

He doesn’t even need to specify who. “Lord Aston?”

In a small, short movement, Hubert nods.

Paradine crosses his hands. “Show him the pride of Strahta. Show him what he thoughtlessly threw away.”

Hubert raises his head.

“I’ll do it.”

“I knew you would,” said the President, standing to shake Hubert’s hand.

Even if Lord Aston couldn’t save Lhant, Hubert would. Even if it was painful, he’d return to his old home, and then his father would regret ever tossing him aside.

“Mister President, I wanted to thank you for taking in my request about sending Hubert to Lhant,” Garett Oswell says.

The party tonight is to raise money for victims of the earthquake south of Sable Izolle. Paradine takes a drink of his champagne.

“You’re welcome, but I didn’t do it for you,” the President says.

He can feel Garett eyeing him. That cool discerning gaze is alarmingly similar to his son’s. That bright young boy, who had looked at him so earnestly once. “So then why?”

“Call me sentimental, but I think it’d be good for him to revisit his hometown and see his family.”

“I’m his family,” Garett replies, and Paradine shoots him a look as though he’s very sorry about that fact.

Paradine finishes his champagne and sets it on the tray of a passing waiter. “You’ve thoroughly managed to bury your claws in him, but I’d like to think there’s still some of that boy I met years ago inside him. I guess we’ll see.”

Garett’s voice is deeply dry. “I guess we will.”

#i know gen fic isn't that popular but i really love gen fic for graces #i have a ton more on the backburner i've still not got around to #tales of graces #tog #hubert oswell #my fanfiction

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