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neon-junkie · 3 years

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It Takes Two To Tango

Summary: Stuck in a failing marriage where both you and your husband are having affairs, you enjoy another night with the man that you literally bumped into at the Saloon.

Pairing: Javier Escuella x f!Reader

Word Count: 2227

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Cheating/Affairs, Degrading, Humiliation, Praise, Squirting, Cum eating, Creampies, Face slapping, Knife kink, Choking, Smut without a plot.

Notes: I had RDR1 Javier in mind for this seeing as he's low honour, and the dialogue/actions in this are very low honour Javier based, buuuuut you're welcome to picture any Javier you want <3

To put things politely, you hate your husband. When you two first met, he was sweet, kind, wonderful, everything you'd expect in a partner; the first few years of your marriage were flawless, but something within him changed, and he began spiralling off the rails, crashing into the man that he is today.

A divorce is hard to come by, especially in this time. However, you two seem to have somewhat of an unspoken agreement that you're no longer together. Well, you still share a house, still sleep in the same bed, still ask how each other's day went; but you know exactly where he goes to every night, leaving you all alone in your comfortable home, and sometimes, the nights can get so cold without anybody to hold.

The new man that keeps you warm every night bumped into you at a bar, quite literally, and apologized profusely, then offered to buy you a replacement drink. You happily accepted, taking an instant fancy to his mysterious yet welcoming aura, and spent the rest of the night blatantly flirting. You eventually asked him to help clean the liquor he'd spilt off you, and he did so by licking a stripe from your collar bone, along your neck, settling just below your ear. "It always tastes so much better when you know you shouldn't be doing it, eh?" he huskily whispered, and you agreed by grabbing his hand and pulling him across town, straight into your bed.

Javier knew who you were when he bumped into you, he knew you were a married woman, and he mentioned that he'd seen your husband spending his time with other women, so it's only fair you do the same, right? At first, you felt guilty, until that one night where your husband came home with obvious hickeys on his neck, and you got your own back by asking Javier to mark you ten times worse.

And yet again, Javier's now climbing up the same path to your balcony, swinging his leg over the railing, and finding his way into your bed once he watches your husband leave. You're practically starving every single day, desperate for a way out of this marriage, but even more desperate to spend time with your lover. It's crystal clear how much he enjoys playing this sinful game with you, and often reassures you during pillow talk that he's seen your husband do far worse. It's only a matter of time before the tower falls.

"Javier," you mutter, wrists tied to the bed posts, legs spread, and said man lapping away between them.

"Mhmm?" he hums, his mouth far too occupied as he continues wrapping his lips around your cunt.

"T-too much, come on," you beg.

"Not yet," he quickly blurts out, and returns to lapping at your clit, sliding two fingers into you and curling them perfectly. Thank the lord that you live on the outskirts of town with no attached neighbours; you can be as loud as you want, moaning to your hearts content as Javier mutters sweet praise against your lips. "Good girl," he mutters against your cunt, his fingers continuing to work you open.

"C-come on," you beg yet again, only this time you hear Javier chuckle against you.

"Alright," he sighs. Javier removes his fingers, and licks his lips as his head raises, meeting yours. "Always so impatient, aren't you?" he laughs, but he's also the one lining his cock up to your entrance, cutting your reply short as he slides in. "I don't blame you for being impatient, you know," Javier begins to mutter, jumping straight in to a quick pace. "You must be so deprived, all thanks to that shitty husband of yours. But I'm here now, I'm here to make sure you tire yourself out every night. If your husbands not going to use this pussy, then I might as well use it," Javier shrugs.

It's never slow and steady with Javier, always quick and heated, in a rush just in case your husband does come early, even on the nights where he doesn't come home at all. Your head is rolling back against the pillow, eyes falling shut, but Javier draws your attention back to him with a slap across your cheek. "Look at me when I'm fucking you," he orders, making your eyes go wide. "That's better."

Javier moves his hand to your throat, squeezing lightly between your jawline, enough to be pleasurable, but not enough to make your mind go hazy. "Open up," he orders, and your mouth falls open instantly, tongue sticking out. "That's a good girl," Javier praises, before dipping his head down and spitting directly into your mouth. "Swallow."

He's grinning as you swallow his spit, licking your lips afterward; your cheeks then begin turning red as Javier returns to choking you, a dark glisten in his eyes as he continues to pound you, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. "I fuck you good, don't I?" he asks.

"Uh-huh," you manage to sigh, nodding your head at the same time.

"Then why do you keep closing your eyes, hm? I want you to look at me whilst I'm fucking you," Javier barks, and lands another slap across your cheek. Instead of wrapping his hand around your neck, he places his fingertips on either side of your cheeks, squishing them slightly together and ordering you to order your mouth once more. You watch as he spits into your mouth again, but much slower this time, letting his spit drool off his tongue, slowly into your mouth, before dipping his head down and sealing the deal with a hungry kiss.

"Good girl," he praises again, his lips still pressed against yours. Javier's thrusts come to a halt, his cock sheathed deep inside you, and he props himself upright with a somewhat serious look on his face. "Are you going to let me do it tonight?" he questions, and you know exactly what he's on about.

"Yeah," you nod. You go to reach out, but you're quickly reminded about your wrists being tied to the bed posts, as if you've somehow forgotten.

"I guess you could say this is a punishment, huh?" Javier asks as he shifts his weight over to the edge of the bed, reaching down to pick up his gun belt, his cock still inside you. "I mean, naughty girls like you deserve to be roughed up," he continues, unsheathing his knife and twiddling it between his fingers. "Of course, I'm not going to hurt you, but I suggest you be a good girl and stay still," he smirks.

Javier's knife disappears from your sight, only for the cool metal to be pressed against your throat. The blade is barely touching your skin, hovering over you. However, it's close enough to send a chill down your spine, one that you attempt to contain in fear of the blade making contact with your throat. Javier picks up his pace again, starting with slow thrusts, ensuring the knife is at an angle where it's not going to hurt you. For a man who you met at the Saloon, you trust him, not just with keeping your affair a secret, but with hot and heavy situations like this.

"I'd say hold still, but I've already made sure you'll hold still," he laughs, gesturing with his blade to your bound wrists.

Within time, the roll to Javier's hips becomes quicker, his eyes flicking from yours to the knife at your throat. You know by now not to close your eyes, no matter how many times he hits those perfect spots inside you, your body urging to let your eyes fall shut as your head rolls back.

Javier moves the blade across your skin, trailing up your neck and jawline, and presses the flat part to your cheek. He urges you to tilt your head, and keeps the blade there as his lips meet your neck, marking you loud proud, clear enough for your husband to notice, not that he hasn't before.

"How many do you think I can leave before he says something?" Javier comments, chuckling between kisses.

"Javier, not whilst we're fucking," you sigh. The last person you want to think about right now is your husband, and Javier replies with a laugh, moving his head back up, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright, alright," he replies. "Say, could you hold this for me? I need both my hands free if I'm going to fill you up."

Before you can verbally accept, Javier's already pressing his knife against your mouth; he's kind enough to slip the handle into your mouth, rather than the blade. Instead, the blade tickles your cheek, pointing to your side, whilst your lips are wrapped around the handle.

"That's very kind of you," Javier laughs. He wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling them up to his waist, and puts all his focus into chasing his orgasm, using you like some kind of cheap street whore, not that you mind.

This time, Javier is the one to close his eyes, his breaths becoming quick and short as he slams down into you. You're a whimpering mess, most of your moans muffled by his knife, but he soaks up every noise you make like sweet music to his ears.

"Shit-" Javier grunts, his cock coming to a halt inside you as he fills you up; you can feel his cock twitching, complimented by the heavy moans Javier's letting out. There's a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead, which he accidentally presses to your shoulder as he rests against it, catching his breath as he comes down from his high. "Your turn," Javier softly mutters.

He slips out of you, and shuffles to rest beside you, propping himself up on his elbow. Javier's other hand goes straight to work, not wanting to leave you empty for too long; he slips two fingers inside you, accidentally pushing out some of his load, the white mess oozing out of your cunt. Javier's fingers curl, and he begins moving his wrist, hitting that spot inside you at a vibrating speed.

You let out a cry, muffled by the handle still locked between your lips. Javier smirks at your reaction, but he doesn't let up, keeping his pace fast, eager to see how quickly he can make you cum. As always, your body begins to shake, uncontrollably squirming in Javier's grasp. He's letting out sweet words of praise, "good girl," and "that's it, soak the bed for me."

"Javier, I-"

"What?" he questions, his fingers not losing their pace.

"We'll make a mess!"

"Not we, you. You'll make a mess," Javier chuckles. "And what's wrong with a little mess, huh? just make your husband sleep on the damp side."

For some unknown reason, Javier's comment catches you off guard; maybe it's the way he whispered it directly into your ear, or the thought of letting your husband suffer whilst you sleep peacefully, but either way, your orgasm hits like a train.

"That's it," Javier cheers, watching in awe as you squirt. He doesn't let up, his fingers still hitting that spot inside you, his palm brushing against your clit with every flick of his wrist.

Javier's milking you, and it's rapidly becoming too much, only you're still bound to the bed, unable to push him off, and the knife handle in your mouth is keeping you from calling out your protests. He's smart, Javier knows exactly what he's doing, or what he's done.

But eventually, you run dry, your body still shaking from an intense and drawn out orgasm. "That's my good girl," Javier praises, placing a kiss to your temple as he pulls his fingers from you. Javier sits up on his knees, using his dry hand to remove the knife and places it on your bedside table. "Here. Open. Clean me up," Javier orders.

Javier presents his fingers, and like the well trained slut that you are, you open your mouth, allowing him to slip his fingers inside. The taste is exactly what you'd expect, a mixture of squirt and cum, but you let your eyes shut as you clean his fingers, licking them dry, enjoying the soft moans and sighs he lets out as he watches in lustful amazement.

You're just about finished when you hear the front door slam. Javier and you share a look of pure horror, his fingers still between your lips, both of your eyes wide and visibly nervous. Javier quickly pulls his fingers from your mouth, rushing to grab his knife and cut you free from your binds, with caution.

As soon as you're free, there's a mad rush, both of you hurrying to pull your clothes on, followed by dumping all of your bedding into the laundry basket. There's almost no time for a kiss goodbye, but you manage to fit one in, sharing the taste of your regular encounter before Javier scurries out onto your balcony and hops the railing, disappearing into the night.

Thankfully, your husband doesn't trail upstairs straight away, giving you enough time to organize your laundry properly and put some fresh bedding on. And by the time he does, you're already sound asleep, worn out from yet another illicit encounter.

Isn't it about time you start looking into your divorce?

#rdrwriting #it takes two to tango #smut #nsft #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x female reader #f!reader #female reader #rdr2 #rdr1 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #cheating #affair

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tricksters-captain · 4 years

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Weasley Twins/Cedric Diggory Imagines - Accidental Meeting - Part 6

AN: Here ya go! Enjoy!

Overall Summary: (Y/n), is a young witch who always kept her head down due to her complicated past; one day she bumps quite literally into one of the most popular boys in Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, and that’s when (Y/n)’s plan of keeping her head down seems to go up into the air. Things only seem to worsen when two redheaded twins start to take notice too...

This Chapter: It’s the first match of the season! Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff

(MASTERLIST HERE)

Pairing(s): Cedric Diggory x Reader, (Eventual) George Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Fred Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Oliver Wood x Reader

Word Count: 3,376

Warnings: None

“Wood, you need to get laid, mate.” Fred stared at the older boy as he paced the common room. He was as tense as a wooden plank and stressed about the game plan which he thought ‘just wasn’t perfect yet’.

“(Y/n), why don’t you take one for the team?” Fred looked across the sofa at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Or we could use a simple potion on him to relax him or even better knock him out?” You offered a different suggestion looking up at Oliver as he passed you.

“The match is tomorrow. It’s the first one of the season, we must win. With the team change, there is more competition; Malfoy is no match really for Harry as a seeker but Diggory is different.” Oliver’s accent seem to make his words slur together as his thoughts overflowed from his mouth.

“Ooooo, pretty boy Diggory. (Y/n)’s new favourite study partner.” Fred smirked, winking at you as he teased.

“Better watch out, Wood. You’ll lose your only fan at this rate.” George added, smiling along side his brother.

You threw one of the pillows from under your arm at the twins to shut them up before Oliver finally plodded himself down next to you.

“Come on, Oli. Just quit thinking about it, you guys don’t need the perfect game plan when you are an actual good team. You need sleep. Energy for tomorrow morning.” You rested your head on Oliver’s shoulder as he leant back.

“You know I won’t sleep tonight.” Oliver shifted his arm so he could wrap it around you and you scooted closer to the boy, frowning at his statement.

“Alright, get a room.” George’s joke earned a glare from you. The twins knew you and Oliver were like family but it didn’t stop them from commenting on anything you and Oliver did together.

“We know that the real reason Oliver won’t be sleeping tonight is because of your brothers snoring.” You snarked back at the twins with a smile.

“Ah yes.” Fred slapped his knee. “Poor ol’ Wood, having to share a room with Percy.”

“Wouldn’t wish it on anybody.” George added which made all of you laugh.

“It’s fine, only a few more months of it, Wood.” Fred brought up the fact Oliver was leaving this summer and you felt your heart ache.

“What will (Y/n) do without you?” George asked,

“Cling onto Diggory, I suppose.” Fred teased, laughing like he couldn’t help it.

“He’ll be better company than you two.” You retorted which made both twins clutch their hands over their hearts dramatically.

“Ouch, (Y/n). Really ouch.” Fred groaned.

“The better question is what will the quidditch team do when I leave?” Wood smirked, changing the topic slightly to avoid any more Cedric talk.

“Might actually win some matches.” George quipped. Your jaw dropped into an open smile and you brought your hand up to cover your laughter.

“You think you’re clever, Weasley––” Wood threw a pillow at the twins which started a pillow war.

You ducked behind the sofa as protection as the teams formed to be you and Oliver vs the twins.

You and Oliver continued to lob back any pillows thrown in your direction. You rejoiced each time you got one of the twins on top of their red heads and the twins did the same every time they managed to get you.

“I give! I give! I give up!” You squealed as all of a sudden the three boys target you, hitting you each with their own pillows repeatedly.

The blows stopped and the laughter continued as you huffed your hair out of your face. Your cheeks glowing pink from the warmth and excitement of the fight.

George offered his hand to you to pull you off the floor.

You took it.

His large hand was warm against yours and his other hand wrapped around your wrist as he pulled you to your feet.

“Three against one isn’t exactly fair.” You grumbled as you stood.

“It’s not like you’d be any match for one of us anyway, love. It’s saving your the embarrassment of losing to just one of us if all three of us get you.” Fred was the one to reply. He couldn’t help but notice George watching you even after letting your hand go.

“Keep telling yourself that.” You decided it was time to head to bed as you dumped the pillows back on the sofas.

The twins and Oliver bid you goodnight as you walked up the stairs and you did the same.

When you woke in the morning, the room was dark and dreary, you could see Angelina lacing up her boots on the edge of her bed ready for the match ahead.

The noise of raindrops smashing against the window made your stomach drop as you realised the first match of the season would be in the worst weather yet.

“Wrap up warm, (Y/n). It’s not gonna be an easy game today.” Angelina noticed you were awake as she caught you staring at the window.

“A long one too. I doubt anyone will be seeing, let alone catching, the snitch in this weather.” You internally groaned at the thought.

You dressed yourself as best as you could to try and stay warm and dry. You wrapped yourself in thick clothes before putting on some boots and a large rain coat.

You trudged down the stairs to see Oliver in his uniform waiting for you with a muffin.

“I already went to breakfast. I figured you wouldn’t go at all if I already went.” Oliver handed you the muffin and you smiled.

“How thoughtful. Perhaps you could’ve waited for me in the first place.”

“Early bird gets the worm, (Y/n).” Oliver defended himself as he started towards the door to leave.

You followed him out of the common and down the stairs towards the quidditch pitch.

“Have you heard anything from your uncle?” He asked.

“Nope, not since I sent off my letter a few days ago.” You shook your head as you tightened the drawstring on your hood. “I don’t expect to hear anything back now until something new happens with him.”

“You know, I’ve known you this long and I still don’t get you and your uncle.” Oliver admitted, sending you a side glance.

“I mean how can you understand him and everything he’s gone through? He’s not the most loving parental figure I got but he is the only one I have. We keep each other updated on the important things. He doesn’t need to be burdened with my feelings on boys or exams, he’s got too much going on upstairs to care about some teenage girls anxieties.” You gestured to your head and Oliver just chuckled.

“Guess that’s what I’m here for.” Oliver suggested,

“You are perfectly correct there, Oli boy.” You opened your umbrella as you and Wood prepared to run to the pitch in the rain.

You waited in the team tent with Oliver for the team to slowly scatter in.

“Actually here then, Seyler.” Fred using your surname was something you’d have to get used to but since you were just with the team who rarely judged you because of Oliver, you didn’t say anything about it.

“I keep my promises.” You said proudly.

“Yeah right, you’re just here cause of pretty boy Diggory, admit it.” Fred wiggled his eyebrows at you and you flipped him off.

“I’m heading to get a seat, Oli. Make sure not to fall off your broom today.” You wished the boy luck with a quick hug before climbing the stairs to find somewhere to sit or stand with the Gryffindors.

The rain wasn’t easing up. It came down hard and heavy and with grumbling roars of thunder around it.

You felt a knot in your stomach as you thought about all the possible ways things could end badly with the weather.

The first on the pitch were the Hufflepuff team.

You spotted Cedric as he lead the team out onto the field. He wore goggles and his hair was pushed back, wet from the rain along with his yellow quidditch robes which were darker from already being clearly soaked.

You couldn’t help but let your lips form a smile as he flew round to your side of the pitch and flew past you, sending one of his own dazzling smiles your way.

The Gryffindor team swiftly followed Hufflepuff and soon the whistle was blown and the game began.

You tried to watch Oliver but for some reason, your eyes always found themselves back to Cedric.

Quidditch matches were never quiet.

You laughed as the surrounding Gryffindors cheered and shouted over the thunder for their team.

You whooped and whistled whenever Oliver saved a goal and despite the bad weather, you didn’t seem to mind being out there for once.

You also cheered on for Fred and George as you found yourself paying attention to them too.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you lost sight of Cedric.

“They’ve gone up there!” Hermione seemed to have noticed you looking about and she gestured up into the clouds where you knew she was talking about Harry and Cedric.

Soon after, you saw Cedric racing after the snitch back out of the clouds but Harry wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

You couldn’t look up for too long as the rain drops attacked your face.

“HARRY!” Hermione screamed out as she spotted the boy falling fast towards the ground.

Almost no one had noticed over the Hufflepuffs roars as Cedric snagged the snitch. Hufflepuff won and Harry’s body was spiralling to the bottom of the quidditch match.

“Arresto momentum!” Dumbledore noticed Harry and cast out a spell to soften the fall.

Somehow the air got even colder and that’s when you noticed the Dementors above. They must’ve followed Harry down, it would explain why Harry was unconscious. He had fainted after an encounter with a Dementor before.

Dumbledore was furious, you could see it in his face.

You rushed through the stadium as Dumbledore sent the Dementors away; you reached the bottom as Harry was being lifted and escorted to the hospital wing.

Other students rushed past you to see if Harry was okay, you looked up towards the goals to see if Oliver was still there but he must've come to the ground.

You figured your best chance was to head back to the castle with the majority of the students instead of fighting through them, and you’d probably find Wood with Harry in the hospital.

As the students all rushed to get out of the rain you heard someone cough beside you ‘Deatheater’ and you rolled your eyes in frustration. Was this shit really gonna start up again?

You saw glimpses of orange hair and red quidditch robes heading towards the hospital wing ahead of you and you silently thanked the Weasley mother for birthing the tall twins.

Nudging and weaving your way through wet bodies you finally caught up to them.

“Is Oliver not with you?” You asked Fred and George as you took hold of their robes for them to notice you were behind them.

“Last I saw your boyfriend was talking to him.” Fred replied,

“What?” You were confused and taken back by the word ‘boyfriend’.

“Diggory pulled him to one side on the quidditch pitch.” George explained.

“Probably asking his blessing for your hand in marriage.” Fred smirked, you hit him in response.

“Hey!” Fred pouted as he rubbed arm.

“How’s Harry?” You peaked past the boys to see Ron, Hermione, Neville and Angelina surrounding Harry’s bed.

“Not sure yet since you dragged us to a stop to ask about your boyfriends.” Fred was pushing his luck with you but you didn’t feel any real anger at the teasing like you usually would.

“Harry could be dead and we wouldn’t know because we had to talk to you.” George played along with his twin.

“I’m terribly sorry. Please, get back to your adopted brother.” The sarcasm dripped off your tongue and the boys couldn’t help but find it amusing.

You turned on your heels and made your way down a now empty corridor to continue your search for Wood.

“(Y/n)!” You heard a voice echo as you passed a smaller corridor. Your head spun left and your eyes met a very damp Cedric.

“Cedric.” You returned his call.

As the boy neared you, you could see just how soaking he truly was.

Raindrops were still falling down his forehead, dripping off his brown curls and his pink cheeks were flushed from the warmth the castle held compared to outside.

Your eyes couldn’t help but notice his lips, almost shinning like lipgloss. Almost inviting.

“What’s wrong?” Cedric must've noticed your wrinkled expression as his eyebrows knitted together like yours.

“I’m just looking for Oliver.” You confessed.

“I just spoke to him on the pitch. I asked him if he would like a rematch since the Dementors attacked Harry but he said that we had won fair and square which I didn’t think was the exact truth but...” Cedric couldn’t help but ramble as he replayed the conversation in his head. “...But Wood insisted it was okay.”

“That’s big of him. Did you say he was still at the pitch or?”

“No, I don’t know where he went after. Possibly to find Harry’s broom.” Cedric suggested.

“Possibly.” You agreed. “Congratulations by the way.”

“Congratulations? I’m surprised you’re congratulating me, Wood is your best friend, I thought he’d have you swearing off talking to the enemy let alone congratulating them.” Cedric clearly found the conversation funny.

“Honestly, you think Oliver owns me or something?” You rolled your eyes, placing your hands on your hips as you looked up at the boy.

“I really hope not.” Cedric smiled back down at you which made your heart flutter.

You felt your lips part as Cedric flirted and you cleared your throat to save the embarrassment of your jaw hanging open.

“I should probably let you go. You look freezing in those wet clothes.” Cedric helped save you the embarrassment by not commenting on it.

“You too. Those robes must be heavy now.” You pointed at his quidditch robes which you had to admit looked especially good on the boy.

“Meet me outside my common room. I’m sure some hot chocolate with marshmallows will help warm you up?” Cedric raised his eyebrows as he made the offer. You could only nod back as an answer.

Cedric was the one to walk away as you felt suddenly very heavy in your boots.

“(Y/n)! There you are. Is Harry awake yet?” Oliver followed the same path Cedric had taken and came face to face with you only seconds later.

“I-I-I don’t know. I was looking for you.” You admitted, you noticed the broken broom wrapped up in his arms.

“Whomping Willow. That bastard tree.” Oliver cursed as he saw you look at the broom.

“Looks like your seeker needs a new broom.” You winced, knowing what Oliver was thinking now the fastest broom on the team was now broken.

“At least, hopefully with Madam Pomfrey’s help, I won’t be needing a new seeker.” Oliver was trying to look on the bright side.

“Go check on him. I’m heading back to the common room to dry off.” You ushered the boy forward before returning to the dorms.

You peeled out of your wet clothes and towel dried your hair. You pulled on some comfier, warmer clothes and a pair of fluffy socks. It always seems so much colder after you’ve been soaked through by the Scottish rain.

“You look cute. Off to meet someone?” Angelina sent you a knowing look as she entered the dorm, taking off her own wet robes.

“What?” You scoffed, “No, of course not. Who would I be meeting?”

“I don’t know but there have been rumours flying around about a particularly handsome Hufflepuff prefect quidditch captain.” Angie was being way too obvious that she meant Cedric.

“You should know by now to stop listening to rumours about me, Angelina.” You shook your head as you gathered your dirty laundry off the floor.

“Okay, have fun not going to meet anyone then...” Angelina giggled to herself as she wiggled her eyebrows.

You left the dorm, descending the stairs down to the common room where most Gryffindors were sat sourly as we lost and Harry had fallen and broke his broom.

You couldn’t see the twins or Oliver anywhere so you assumed they were still with Harry.

You left the common room quietly and made your way down to the kitchen corridor where the Hufflepuff common room was located.

You had never been near the Hufflepuff common room before. You hadn't really bothered going near any of the other house’s commons room actually. You hadn’t had friends outside Gryffindor before, more specifically outside the Gryffindor quidditch team.

You scrunched the sleeves of your sweater in the palm of your hands as you tiptoed down the corridor.

“There you are.” Cedric seemed to almost appear out of thin air as he exited the kitchens with two mugs of hot chocolate.

“How did you?” You gestured at the mugs as you questioned.

“The house elves are happy to give out food and drinks as long as they are treated well.” Cedric offered you your mug.

You smiled as you heard quiet humming coming from the cup.

“My father bought these marshmallows from Denmark. They sing as they melt into your drink.” Cedric smiled as you noticed the soft music.

The mug had a mound of cream on top with shavings of chocolate and several fluffy singing marshmallows.

“Thank you.” You held the mug close to you as it warmed your hands.

Cedric sat down with his back against the corridor wall and you sat beside him.

“I like your hair. It’s gone all curly.” Cedric complimented you which made you blush.

“Ugh, I hate it. The rain always makes it go really frizzy.” You patted the top of your head and groaned. Cedric just shook his head lightly at your actions.

“Is Harry okay?” He asked,

“I think so. Madam Pomfrey is the best healer I’ve ever seen so if anyone can fix him, she can.” You stated, sipping on your hot chocolate.

Cedric suddenly started laughing, his bright eyes wincing as his smile grew wide.

“What?” You smiled at him, the whipped cream now covering your noise.

Cedric wiped the cream from the tip of your nose, sucking it off his thumb as he continued to laugh.

You let your own laughter fall quiet as you examined the handsome boys face.

Your thoughts started to race as the marshmallows started to quietly hum an old love song.

“Why me?” You asked him.

“What do you mean?” Cedric questioned you back, looking from your eyes to your lips to your eyes again.

“Why talk to me this year? You could talk to anyone. We only briefly bumped into each other on that train ride. Why not leave it at that?”

“Because...” Cedric sat up further against the wall. “...I have never been drawn to anyone the way I was drawn to you after you purposely threw yourself against me.”

“I did not throw myself against you!” You screeched, defending yourself which only made Cedric laugh wildly again.

You tried not to laugh with him but your smile couldn't help but break out.

You both sat there in the quiet for a moment until you started humming along with the marshmallows.

“You know this?” Cedric asked, referring to the tune the sweets were singing.

“I love this song.” You whispered as you stared down at your mug.

Cedric suddenly started singing the words to the song but extremely off key.

“Shut up! You’re ruining it!” You nudged the boys shoulder which only started him up again. “Does your face not hurt, Mr Smiley?” You teased him for it.

“Come on.” Cedric rose to his feet and offered his hand out to you.

You took it.

His hand was warm.

“You hungry?” Cedric led you towards the kitchen entrance.

“Starving.”

(NEXT PART)

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#cedric diggory #Cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory x reader #george weasley #george weasley x reader #George weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #robert pattinson #oliver phelps #james phelps #harry potter and the prisoner of Azkaban #imagines #Ron Weasley #Hermione granger #Oliver wood #Oliver Wood imagines

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thewickedkings · 4 years

Text

Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 7

Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks, an unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything so far, but please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

~~~

Jude shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she glanced at Taryn in the driver’s seat, her light makeup and soft pink dress making her look sweet and innocent, especially compared to Jude’s mostly black outfit. Apparently, Taryn had also wanted to Cardan’s party, so they were forced to drive there together. A stilted silence hung over them the whole drive, and Jude did nothing to break it, opting to stare out the window.

Cardan’s neighborhood reeked of luxury. The houses sat far apart, with sprawling, perfectly groomed lawns. Cardan’s house, or better put, mansion, loomed in a secluded corner at the end of the street. The house was perfectly symmetrical, a balcony and long glass windows on each side, its perfection making it seem cold and impersonal. Golden lights reflected against the polished driveway, which was already packed with cars.

Jude could already hear the thumping music coming from inside. She closed the car door behind her and followed Taryn as they walked down the street towards Cardan’s house.

They pushed through the front door and into the entryway. Two gleaming staircases spiraled on each side of her, and through them was a living room, which was already littered with people. Music pumped through speakers Jude couldn’t see, and kids lounged on the couches in the seating area. The party was already in full swing, and yet everything was much more relaxed than Jude had expected.

“Text me when you want to leave,” Taryn said, voice raised so Jude could hear her, and then she quickly disappeared up the stairs, leaving Jude alone.

A few awkward conversations and a couple of drinks later, Jude found herself wandering to the kitchen. The elegant marble countertop was littered with empty cups, and a couple of kids Jude vaguely recognized sat on bar stools.

The fridge door closed, revealing Cardan, who was holding as many water bottles as he could fit into his hands. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his shirt collar slightly uneven, and Jude immediately relaxed at the familiar face.

His gaze caught Jude’s, and his mouth curved up into a smile. “You came.”

Perhaps it was the easygoing atmosphere of the party, but Jude let herself smile back. “I did.”

“How was soccer practice?” he asked innocently.

“It was definitely ‘sensational,’” she replied, hands making air quotes. “How proud were you of yourself for coming up with that?”

“You have to admit it was pretty good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She shook her head dismissively and gestured to the water bottles. “You need help with those?”

Cardan blinked in surprise. “Sure.”

She leaned forward, taking the bottles that threatened to spill out of his arms into hers, her fingers brushing against Cardan’s warm skin.

“We can take these upstairs. A whole bunch of us are playing ping pong if you want to come.”

“Sure. But don’t blame me when I beat you in front of everyone.”

“That confident?”

“Of course,” she quipped, following him as he pushed their way up the stairs and into a wide game room. A plush couch sat facing away from them, angled towards the expensive flat screen TV against the wall, switched to the latest basketball game. Behind it was the table tennis table, and a group of guys surrounded it, cheering as one of the players scored a point.

Cardan set the water bottles on a counter in the far corner of the room, and Jude did the same.

Cardan gently grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the table tennis table. “You ready to lose?”

Jude scoffed. “In your dreams, Greenbriar.”

“Ok everyone, move it,” Cardan announced. “Duarte here thinks she can beat me.” The two guys playing rolled their eyes but handed Cardan the rackets.

“Knows. I know I can beat you,” Jude corrected. One of the guys who had been playing whistled. Adam, she recognized. She was pretty sure she had study hall with him.

Adam grinned at Jude. “Please put him in his place. This guy needs to knock his ego down a couple pegs.”

Jude laughed. “Tell me about it.”

Cardan ignored them, rolling his shoulders back and brushing a loose curl away from his face, offering Jude the ball. “I’ll let you serve.”

Jude just rolled her eyes and took the ball from his hands. “How kind of you. You ready?”

Cardan nodded and Jude served. The ball flew over the net, and Cardan quickly leaned to his right, but before he could return it, the ball spun sideways and out of his reach.

Cardan cursed, and a girl in the corner cheered.

Jude had failed to mention to Cardan that she had been playing table tennis at her local gym for years now and had even beat a couple of college students in a tournament. It was safe to say she was pretty good at it.

Cardan retrieved the ball from the floor and tossed it back to her. His dark eyes were filled with mirth when they met hers across the table. “Okay, Jude, I see how you’re playing.” A sharp flare of anticipation went through her as she lifted her racket for her next serve. This time, Cardan expected her move and hit the ball swiftly back, starting a back and forth rally between them.

When she missed a particularly hard corner shot, a smirk tugged at Cardan’s mouth.

“Okay, Cardan, I see how you’re playing,” she mimicked.

And so the game went.

After every point, Adam called out the score. A crowd began to form around them as the game intensified, sweat beading on Jude’s neck. The familiar urge to defeat him welled up inside her, the competition between them now in a tangible form.

It seemed Cardan thought the same, because his ever-present smirk was gone, his brow furrowed and lip bitten in concentration. The realization came, unbidden, that she found that intense look of determination very attractive on him.

The thought momentarily pulled Jude out of her competitive haze, and as Cardan lifted his racket to serve, Jude’s gaze caught on something over his shoulder, or more accurately, someone.

Locke was standing behind Cardan, his arms wound around a girl. She watched as Locke leaned forward and kissed the girl on the lips. A girl who, when she pulled back, had the same chestnut hair as hers. A girl Jude would recognize anywhere, because her appearance was a splitting image of her own.

Taryn.

Cardan hit the ball over the net, but Jude didn’t notice.

Everything clicked together. The date Taryn had been on when Jude needed the car. Her strange attitude after Jude’s had gone out with Locke, which now Jude recognized as jealousy. The cold distance growing between them that Jude had never understood. Nicasia’s warning that Locke ‘likes to create drama.’

Cardan’s voice brought her back to the present. “Come on, Jude,” he taunted. “That one was easy.”

Jude’s racket clattered against the table, her vision red. “That jerk.” If he wanted drama, she’d give it to him. After she slapped him.

She rounded the table, eyes narrowed, but Cardan blocked her. “What’s wrong?” His eyes followed hers to Locke, whose hand was on Taryn’s waist, and then back to her. Understanding dawned on his features surprisingly quickly.

“Please don’t tell me Locke was the guy that left the flowers at your door.”

“Unfortunately.” She moved to step around him, but Cardan stopped her again.

“Wait.” When she glared at him, he stepped back, chastened. “Look, don’t give him what he wants. He wants you to get mad and confront him.”

“So what? You want me to pretend nothing happened? That my twin sister has been knowingly going out with the same guy as me?” she seethed. How had she been so blind?

“No, Jude. Just wait it out and then you play him.”

She gritted her teeth, only the thought of revenge letting her acquiesce. “Fine.”

She turned her back to Cardan and Locke, leaving the table tennis table behind, and headed in the opposite direction, towards the table with drinks. She grabbed one, and then walked up to a girl with dyed red hair and a nose piercing who looked like she would help Jude. “Hey.”

The girl appraised Jude. “Hey.”

Jude’s anger left no place for embarrassment. “You see that guy over there? You think you can accidentally spill this drink all over him for me?”

The girl’s brow quirked, but she shrugged. “Sure.”

She pushed through the crowd until she was downstairs, not waiting to see his reaction. She made her way through the front doors, stepping out into the night.

She had been played. And Taryn had been a willing participant in her humiliation. And Jude had no idea why. There was literally no reason for Taryn not to tell her what was going on. A little, ‘hey, I’m seeing the guy who asked you out, by the way,’ couldn’t have been so hard, could it?

She was suddenly glad she hadn’t made a scene. She was going to humiliate Locke so thoroughly he’d regret ever messing with her. As for Taryn, she wanted to throttle her.

She knew her anger was masking a deeper hurt, but she wasn’t ready to think about it. She just wanted to leave.

Her hands went to her pockets, reaching for her keys, coming up empty. Of course Taryn had them.

She shut her eyes, swallowing hard, and leaned back against the cool surface next to the door. The wall vibrated faintly with the music, an echo of the night she could have had. The autumn air was frigid against her bare arms, and suddenly Jude felt very, very alone.

The door creaked open, the sound of the music heightening before fading back as the door shut.

“That was not how I was expecting tonight to go,” Cardan said.

She shrugged, feeling Cardan’s gaze on her. She waited for him to mock her for falling for Locke’s tricks, but nothing came.

Instead he dangled his car keys in front of her and said, “Want to get out of here?”

~~~

Cardan had decided that the only possible thing to do after finding out someone cheated on you was to get yummy fast food (he spoke from experience, he’d said). For all his babbling, he completely ignored her when she asked why he was ditching his own party.

They were on their way to the nearest burger joint when, at the first stoplight, Cardan connected his phone to the speaker. The first beats of a song began to play through the speakers.

“Is this…” Jude trailed off in disbelief.

Cardan nodded his head seriously. “Yes, yes it is,” he replied, before he began to belt the lyrics to none other than Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off. His voice wasn’t even half bad, despite the fact that he was half-shouting.

“Oh my God, please no,” Jude groaned into the palm of her hand as the chorus approached.

“Come on Duarte. You can’t resist this.” He turned up the volume.

“Cause the players gonna play, play, play, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake,” he sang at her, aggressively shaking his head, and Jude couldn’t help but sing back, half laughing, “Shake it off, shake it off!”

Cardan’s answering smile was so wide, he was practically beaming at her. Something in her chest shifted at that smile, clicking into place. And then they were screaming the rest of the lyrics together, terribly off key and snorting with laughter, until Cardan turned into the drive through.

Cardan turned down the music, Jude felt almost giddy. She remained quiet as Cardan gave their order, sinking back into her seat, content. It seemed singing your heart out to Taylor Swift could cure all her problems. She definitely needed to do it more.

When they pulled up to the second window to pay, she reached for her wallet. Cardan rolled his eyes at her. “I got it.”

“What? No, I can pay.”

“I’m not paying for you. My dad is.” Cardan flashed a credit card at her and handed it to the lady at the cashier.

Cardan handed her the bag of food before rolling up his window and pulling into a vacant parking spot. The heavenly smell of fries wafted into the air, and Jude dug into the bag and handed Cardan his burger and fries before taking hers out and biting into it.

After a few moments of silence, save for the slurp of Cardan’s milkshake, Cardan finally asked, “So… you going to tell me what happened?”

Jude swallowed before responding. “What is there to tell? That the one guy who asked me out is some weird freak and went out with my twin sister at the same time and she went along with it?”

Cardan winced.

“Why can’t a normal guy just ask me out for once?” she groused.

“I think… most guys are intimidated by you.”

“Really?” Cardan gave her a look. “Okay, maybe I do come off as a little intimidating.”

“A little?”

Jude scowled, and grumbled, “I don’t want guys to be too intimidated by me to even talk to me.”

“Then maybe don’t glare when they try to approach you.”

“I don’t glare.”

“You do every time I approach.”

“You’re different.”

Cardan turned to her, challenging, “Yeah, how?”

“You know how,” Jude replied, rolling her eyes, and quickly changed the subject. “Wait, didn’t Locke cause drama between you and Nicasia too?”

Cardan blanched. “You could say that.”

Jude stared at him, waiting.

“Fine, she ditched me for him, okay? What is it about him that has all of you girls falling for him?” he joked, brushing it off.

“But I thought you two were… friends?”

“We’ve known each other our whole lives. Sometimes that’s the only thing holding up a friendship, and it wasn’t enough.” He shrugged. “Especially after what he did. We’re not not friends, but we’re not friends either, you know?”

She nodded, and they fell into a companionable silence, the radio humming faintly in the background.

What made someone qualify as a friend? The only person she could think of was the Bomb, and they’d barely known each other for a couple weeks.

She knew she tended to be a lone wolf, but it was probably pathetic that she barely think of one person. There were a couple of friends she made in school, but none she ever tried to hang out with beyond that. Somewhere along the line, she had gotten so used to figuring out everything by herself that she didn’t know how to do anything with anyone else.

But maybe it didn’t have to be that hard, she thought as she watched Cardan dig into the empty bag for any extra fries, the streetlight shadowing his face. Somehow Cardan had known exactly what she needed after tonight’s debacle, and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

She took a sip of her milkshake, the sugary sweetness in harmony with her next thought. Because even if she didn’t exactly have the most experience with friendships, she couldn’t help but think that, despite everything, her and Cardan were very much veering into the friends territory.

~~~

A/N: yes, this fic is EXTREMELY self-indulgent because my real life is bland okay? it was SO fun to write (and i hope... fun to read?? hehe) also Cardan saying guys in general find Jude intimidating when he’s literally talking about himself,, my boy is crushing so hard

Thank you so much for reading I can’t say it enough, your comments and reblogs mean the world to me <3

Tagging: (Bolded tags didn’t work. I don’t know why, it might be your settings or just tumblr acting up, but I’ll tag you in the comments for now! If I forgot to tag you or messed something up, just send me an ask and I’ll fix it as soon as I can!)

@goddess-of-writing @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @amoosewithflannelforfur @aneurwin @mercrutiodidntdieforthis @hizqueen4life @mi-mavencalories @simonelovesff @b00kworm @nope-has-lied @andromeddea @aesthetics-11 @queen-of-glass @runnybabbit9 @afexiss @the-keen-queen @yesimtheslytherinwitch @fizziefaerie @abigneignenn @storiesandschemes @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @words-of-the-wise @thedazzlingheights @magicalbookwyvern @kittkatandbooboo @queen-of-no1 @iminsanenotobsessed @dorkzrul @snusbandxknifewife @aknymph @clouds-and-peonies @thefolkofthefic @snorting-up-pizza @fandomfanatic987 @fandom-will-be-the-death-of-me @cardanslittletail @curlyredqueen06 @losssssstttttt @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @omfglucayababies @judiecardan @woodsbeyond1 @yourroyalbooknerd @ireallyshouldsleeprn @st00pid231 @alittledribbledrabble @nomotivation-lads @herladyshipxx @emmabookworm08 @ducksmurf135 @jurdanhell @booksandothersecrets @fangirlprincess09 @ysitsohardtofindaname @dressedindustandshadows @mickeymouse-house @clockworkgraystairs @thesirenwashere

#between the two of us #chapter 7 #wow i actually wrote something #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #jurdan fic #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfot #tfota fics #tfota fic

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literarydumpinggrounds · 5 years

Text

Twin Code

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin/Potter!Reader

Word Count: 2,522

Warnings: none

Summary: James accidentally lets it slip that you’re in love with Remus.

Notes: I had no idea what to name this, but it was a cute little idea that I wanted to get out of my head. Enjoy! :)

“Come on, Y/N/N, I said I was sorry! What do you want from me? D’you want me to beg? Get down on my knees and grovel, that it?” James pressed insistently, the slimeball, whining childishlyㅡ in the dramatic manner always did when he didn’t get his way ㅡfrom across the large wooden table; just as he had for the past fifteen minutes, and the past four days. The stoic expression taking residence on your features never wavered, narrowed eyes focused viciously on your twin brother.

You couldn’t believe him, that slimy little snake!

You’d sooner give him a swift kick in the ass than forgiveness, not after what he did, and he knew it.

"Sirius, would you be a dear and tell my idiot brother that he knows exactly what I want from him, because he knows exactly what he did?" your voice was calm despite the daggers shooting from your irises and into your brother, earning a heavy sigh from the raven haired boy.

James Fleamont Potter had broken your code, the moronic berk!

From the beginning of time, you and your brother were inseparable. Your mother used to say that you were joined at the hip, like you were two halves of one soul. There couldn’t be one without the other because you each kept the other’s feet on the ground, prevented your minds from floating off into the clouds. You told each other everything, no matter what, and every secret was to be taken to the grave; those were the rules. Well, one of the rules. When you were younger, the both of you had formed a list of rulesㅡ the twin code ㅡthat became the guidelines of your relationship. Not once in your sixteen years of coexistence had they had never failed you, and James knew thatㅡ but he just couldn’t keep his big mouth shut!

You watched as James' features contorted into a deflated grimace, his hazel eyes leisurely wandering over your shoulder before his expression softened, and the signature twinkle of mischief returned.

Coming through the large threshold of the Great Hall was Remus, lopsided grin and all, and your heart leapt into your mouth. A thousand thoughts flooded to the forefront of your consciousness as if your bodily chemistry had sent out a blanket invitation, clouding your ability to think properly.

You were suddenly aware of that familiar rise of panic that could thrive or diminish depending on what your next move was. It would only grow if you allowed the storm of thought to overwhelm you, swirling into a vortex of stupidity, eating its own tail. You knew it would vanish the moment you weren’t in his presence, and that the momentary relief would only be until you saw him again, but the urge was too great.

So you shoved yourself from the table with a half-assed story about having coursework for Slughorn, and made a quick getaway.

ㅡ

Remus gave the boys a slight smile as he sat down in your place, glancing at your retreating figure just as you disappeared into the crowd.

"It's been four days, Prongs. When are the two of you going to make up so we can all get on with our lives?" he sassed inquisitively as he looked back to his friends, earning a snort from James as he ran his fingers through his unruly curls. “What have you done to make her so cross with you anyhow?”

Though it was no secret among them that Remus was smitten, he still wasn’t willing to admit how irritating it was to be avoided by the very focus of his affection; one of his best friends.

None of the boys spoke for a moment, only met with the chatter of the Hall, and Peter’s smacking as he shoved generous amounts of pastry into his mouth; until, as if completely oblivious to James’ silent reluctance, Peter piped up.

“Tell the whole quidditch team she’s in love with you.”

Remus choked on his drink, breaking out into a vicious bout of coughing as Sirius slapped Peter on the back of the head, grumbling about his inability to understand discretion. "Sorry, what?"

Four days earlier.

You’d been gazing dreamily at Remus studying in his usual spot among the Reference Section through the dusty shelves of the library for longer than you’d like to admit. Admiring the way that the mousy tendrils of hair rested restlessly against his forehead, and the way his lips moved along with the words he read so faintly that you’d hardly notice unless you were looking for it.

Remus really was the only boy you’d ever allowed yourself to really admire. Not simply because of your feelings for him, but because he deserves every ounce of it.

No matter how tough things got, he always knew the difference between essential virtues to be upheld, no matter what was and wasn’t negotiable. There were men that talked a better game, that spoke with angelic charisma, but he walked his talk and in that there was more honor than in all of the vain popularity in the world. He underplayed his own pains and needs in order to provide for those he loved. Whatever he said he believed in, whatever virtues he professed, you could take it to the bank.

That was him, black and white, cut and dried. Being with him was like being anchored to a rock, never again feeling lost in the storms of life.

You found that you had fallen for his soul rather than relying strictly on his appearance, though it was a benefit you often appreciated; his temperament was what lured you in, so different from the other Marauders. You craved his soothing voice of reason, and coveted his warmth. When he smiled, it was as if the whole world was in your hands, yours for the taking. When you exchanged looks, and laughed with one another, it seemed as if everything paused in its proper place; like you were exactly where you were supposed to be, and the universe was at peace. The feelings that you had for him had been developing for nearly two years, and they far surpassed admiration. You were falling hard, spiraling headfirst into the foreign lands of romance within yourself, and hitting your head on every love nest on the way there.

“Does Lupin know you’re so taken with ‘im, Y/N?” the inquiring voice of Caleb Buckhornㅡ one of the three Chasers on Gryffindor’s quidditch team ㅡpulled you from your daydreaming, and snapped you back into reality.

Frankly, you were scared to even ask, but turned to give him the most aloof expression you could manage.

“What are you on about?”

He shrugged, withdrawing his enthusiasm as your cheeks dusted a rosy shade of pink. "James told us you fancied Remus.” Caleb turned his green irises to the table briefly before returning to you. “I only asked if he knew."

Your blood ran cold. “Us?”

“The team.”

As James finished his explanation, Remus rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands over his face in exasperated realization.

"She nearly killed him when she got hold of ‘im!" Peter snorted, snickering at the annoyance on James’ face.

"It was hot." Sirius grinned wolfishly, before yelping as James elbowed him in the side, complaining about the comment being gross.

"So she's avoiding me because she thinks I know."

He couldn’t believe that you were in love with him. You, the one who had helped him through more restless nights than he could recount, making the seeming impossible seem tolerable with your kind eyes and kindred spirit. You were the sweetest melody he had ever heard, intoxicating him as your words wrapped around him and lulled him into a vulnerable peace.

That was supposed attraction, but his feelings were so deep, as if they were the beginning of a song that would play on and on, something that soothed his tortured soul. You, quite simply, were the kindest and most reliable person Remus had ever met; and he didn’t want you to think that reliable meant that he didn't love you with a fiery passion, because he did; for someone like him, reliable was everything.

As if he had heard Remus’ every racing thought, a devious grin painted over James’ lips, and he sat up straight.

"Think it's prime time you told her how you feel, Moons? Maybe you can convince her to forgive my gift of gab."

ㅡ

You sat at a table in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, leisurely sipping on a steaming mug of butterbeer as you read over the passage in your textbook that covered the Pepperup Potion, only acutely aware of the Marauders taking residence at the table distantly diagonal to your own.

The Pepperup Potion is an elixirㅡ composed of bicorn horn, mandrake root, english thyme, salamander blood, and fire seeds ㅡthat warms the body, and cures the common cold. If composed properly, it will turn a vibrant shade of orange, and steam will spout from the consumer's ears for several hours after it is imbibed. Linfred of Stinchcombe developed the rudimentary treatment for the common cold that would later serve as the basis for the Pepperup Potion. Centuries later, roughly between the mid-eighteenth and nineteenth century, Glover Hipworth built on Linfred’s work, consequently perfecting the-

“Can I join you?” Remus interrupted your studying with a nervous smile, which you desperately tried to ignore as you grew tense in your seat. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Suppose so.”

He settled into the seat across from you as you pretended to immerse yourself in your book, all too aware of his thieving eyes cautiously studying you, trying to read you as he ran his clammy palms on his trousers. For a moment there was silence between the two of you, yet the room around you was alive with jovial chatter and movement. Waitstaff bustled absentmindedly from table to table, taking orders and carrying trays of the drinks that Rosmerta aptly crafted behind the bar. Students dressed in their house robes filled the tables, some groups more diverse than others, but all aglow with cacophonous laughter and conversation.

Unable to focus under Remus’ lingering gaze, you read the same line of text five times before you began to grow a bit uneasy. Your nerves were quickly beginning to fray after these past few days of worrying, and isolating yourself from your blabbering brother. Within your building anxiety you’d encouraged the construction of elaborate rationalizations of why everything would be alright, but there was still that nasty little voice at the back of your consciousness that spoke of nothing but the inevitable doom ahead of you.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

You closed your book swiftly, a single finger preventing the weight of the ample pages from slamming together and making an unnecessarily abrupt noise. “Full of questions today, aren’t you, Moony?” you inquired in mild agitation, crossing your arms over your chest.

In response, Remus gave you a lopsided grin that made your stomach flip, letting out a short, nervous little chuckle as he dropped his gaze to the table. “Go on then.” you insisted with a nod, regaining his anxious gaze. “You’ve got my attention.”

“Well, James saidㅡ”

You let out an indignant scoff, irises set ablaze as you snatched your Potions book off of the table, standing from your seat purposefully. "If that cockroach sent you over here to persuade me, you tell him to go boil his head! I'm not playing his littleㅡ" you were cut short as Remus huffed impatiently, slapping his hands down on the table with a rancorous expression as he rose to his feet.

"I'm in love with you, and if you would stop being so insufferably stubborn and listen I could properly tell you!" he insisted, ceasing all possibility of thinking clearly as your blood ran cold, staring at each other with mirroring expressions of shock.

Remus had never been good at talking like James or Sirius, who always seemed to have the unnecessary amounts of confidence. Whenever he tried to express the emotions whirling within his soul, his throat would tighten and block him from saying anything. Tongue tied and hopelessly alone with his thoughts, even among the little family his friends had become; but this feeling, it was so overwhelming, so foreign that he couldn’t help but speak.

You had always been there for him, through every challenge and complication he’d presented and faced. You stood by his side unconditionally, and supported him, stood up for him, believed in him. He had been lost within himself for years, and he’d never realized the blossoming emotions he felt towards you, he never wanted to confront it. He could tell you anything, without any trouble or hesitation, because he knew you would always understand; even when you couldn’t possibly understand. But most importantly you made him laugh. You made him forget his reality, while keeping him warmth and grounded within it. Remus loved you more than the best friend that you had been to him, and now he had the hope that you felt the same.

“That’s not funny, Remus.” you breathed, frozen in your spot as he took a tentative step towards you, giving you that sweet, puppy dog smile that melted you into a puddle every time.

"I wasn't trying to be funny."

His playful tone made soothed every nerve that had previously nauseated you, calmed the storm of thoughts that had haunted you for days, and warmed the ice in your veins.

Your smile was like a breath of fresh air, an action of blossoming happiness, much like spring flowers, that he couldn’t recall ever seeing before. He could see how it came from deep within, lighting your eyes and spreading into every inch of his body. It had always proved that one smiles with more than their mouth, but their soul.

"So, if I were to kiss you right now?" you took a step towards him, bringing the both of you close enough that your noses brushed, earning a shaky sigh from Remus as his shoulders sagged slightly.

"Please do."

You could hear it in his voice, that pleasant calm that your confirmation had brought him, you could practically see it in his cavity inducing gaze.

It was beautiful. He was beautiful. This moment was… perfect.

The world around you was forgotten as he pressed his lips to yours, nearly knocking the wind from your lungs in the process. You hardly allowed him a moment to react before you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck, having to stand on the tips of your toes to even attempt to match his lanky figure. It was a long time coming, mingled with the fleeting taste of butterbeer in the intermingling of your billowing breaths.

And as abruptly as it started, it was brought to an end as Sirius whistled obnoxiously, a wolfish grin smearing across his face.

"Does this mean our dear Prongs is forgiven, darling Y/N/N?"

ㅡ

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sidespromptblog · 5 years

Text

The Past: Part 2

One, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

Summary: Logan doesn’t recall being Apathy, he can’t remember a single instance in his life where he was the dark side Apathy. As far as he’s aware he’s always just been… Logic, Thomas’ Logic to be more precise. He lives and he breathes as Logic and nothing more.

Except…He’s certain that he isn’t supposed to have emotions, that little things like being called stupid and having the word infinitesimal thrown at him aren’t supposed to hurt the way that they do. He’s certain that he was never supposed to feel, let alone everything that he does now. He just doesn’t understand these feelings, not to mention the dreams of a blank white tie that was folded to crisp perfection. He doesn’t understand the dreams in which he stands before Deceit and the others, with such a tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless.

He doesn’t understand, why when he looks at his friends… and he feels nothing but fear and anger.

Logan jolted awake from the dream that had seared the inside of his mind with a gasp that sounded all too similar to a strangled sob, his sweaty locks stuck to his forehead even as the chill raced down his spine like someone had dropped an ice cube down his shirt. Every breath was a struggle as he openly wheezed, curling up his legs up to his chest before resting his head against his knees. The attempt to stabilize his breathing was an arduous one as the seconds ticked by into minutes, his lungs felt like something.. or rather someone had an impossibly tight grip on them refusing to let up for even the smallest of a second.

What was that? Just what in the hell was that?!

He’d had dreams before, muddled and half-baked as they were, it was always impossible to make heads or tails from them no matter how they left him feeling in the morning. But this… he’d never had a dream that he had seen more clearly.. or felt for that matter. His heart still galloped in his chest, as the sight of Patton’s young face smiling so threateningly at him, as if.. as if he still had a reason to be afraid of Patton in the first place. As if.. as if he was still in danger.

“Preposterous,” He scolded himself, forcing his legs to lay back down on his bed, or as far as they could stretch given all the books and papers he had laying on his bed. “Patton would never harm me, dreams are just…” Statistically speaking, dreams were always refurbished memories, as old and distant as they were. So that meant…

No.

Logan roughly shook his head at the mere notion that flitted through his mind, Patton would never hurt him, they had been estranged friends ever since he had been formed by Thomas. The science of dreams was quite sketchy anyways, especially for a figment of Thomas himself. It was most likely that Thomas had merely revamped some memories from an old horror movie or game and added their faces to it, that was it. There was nothing wrong, he was fine and he would continue to be fine, dreams or not. He was safe and sound here, with his family, with the people that cared about h-

A boisterous knock dragged him from his own denial ridden reassuring thoughts, “Loooogan,” Patton’s voice unwarranted or not sent a jolt through the logical side’s stomach, like spaghetti being spun around on a fork. At least, that was until he forced himself to relax at the sound of Patton’s cheery voice. “Time to get up! Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes, I’m making cat-shaped pancakes!” And just like that, the sound of Patton’s feet scurried down the hallways in order to wake the others, and… undoubtedly the Deceit and Remus as well.

A knot of emotion swelled in his throat.

Remus…

A tearstreaked face that begged him to move faster, to try and move. A young voice that told him he’d carry him if he had to, that.. that he wouldn’t leave him to die. A voice that howled against a locked door, as the sounds of Apathy’s scr-

Logan fiercely shook his head as he slid his legs off of his bed, “No!” He scowled angrily, determined to shake the dream from him as he summoned his usual clothes, he was going to go down and eat, do his work for today, and put the contents of this foolish dream behind him. He and Remus weren’t friends, Remus had attempted to kill him several times so they couldn’t be further from friends. Unlike Deceit and the others, Remus was a being that thrived purely on chaos there was no way that even if he did consider it, that he’d be friends with the likes of him. He strived around likeminded people, like Virgil or.. or P-

Logan nearly gagged as he tightened his tie so tightly that it nearly cut off his airways for a solid second before he hastily loosened it.

Perhaps he should forget about work for today, maybe spending a day inside the imagination and giving himself a few hours of rest would clear his head. With the way that his head was situated and pondering right now… he wasn’t likely to get any work done at all if he was worrying so much over some stupid dream. Perhaps some relaxation really would be better for him today, he was ahead in his scheduling after all, and he had earned it after the whole Remus debacle. Maybe a trip to the pond, or even mirror lakes would do him some good.

“Looogan!” Snapping his head up at the sound of his own name, Logan heaved a sigh as he slipped his shoes on before finally leaving the safety of his room.

Patton cheery grin sent a spiral of sickness deep into Logan’s core as he stood before the entrance of the kitchen, “Good morning Patton,” He politely greeted the other, even as he felt like choking on his own tongue. How on earth was he supposed to eat when he could barely get a few words out to the moral side? The smile that greeted him, would have at one time made him feel giddy on the inside, or in the very least the slightest bit warm all the way from his stomach to his heart. Now though… with the image of Patton reaching for him, his burning fingertips razing his mind, he felt nothing but feverish and cold all at the same time as he stood before the moral side praying that he couldn’t read the conflicting emotions in his eyes.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Ordinarily, he would have helped Patton pass out the plates, staking the funny shaped pancakes just how each of them liked it, he would have stood next to Patton their elbows brushing. But instead… he felt rooted to the spot, feeling that if he moved… he’d either throw up or faint.

Patton stopped though, his brow worriedly crinkling as his eyes gleamed back at the sight of him just.. standing there and doing nothing. “You okay Logie bear?” The moral side stepped even closer standing so that the tips of his fuzzy bunny slippers were touching Logan’s shoes. It was too close. “You look awful pale today, you didn’t stay up too late last night, did you? Are you getting sick?” And just like that Patton reached forward, his fingers, burning hot with the heat of the sun creeping closer and closer with each second. They were reaching for his head, and.. And…

Run. Whispered the voice in his head. Run before he can catch you, run!

A rough shoulder collided with both him and Patton before the moral side’s hand could make contact with his face, as Remus’ sarcastically sneering face mockingly smiled back at him. “Whoops!” He cackled, his hand waving at the two of them disrupting the moment between him and Patton with an almost practiced ease that must have been just a little bit rehearsed, it was so on script with something that Deceit would say as well. “Was I interrupting something?” He giggled, as if it was the climax of some romantic movie, and he was the comic relief constantly stopping the two love interests from confessing shit to each other.

Even so, relief swept through Logan like a tidal wave slamming and destroying tons and tons of built up garbage. It must have shown on his face, or in the very least his eyes as Remus’ giggling stopped dead and his gaze turned almost serious before his eyes darted away from him and Patton. The duke’s lips pressed into a thin line before he pushed past Patton once again, this time seizing plate that only held one pancake and a truly pathetic amount of bacon and syrup on it. Grabbing a plastic fork, as Patton had forbidden him to even think about touching the metal cutlery, Remus paused once again his shoulder firmly but not harshly thumping against Logan’s, further detaching the logical side from Patton’s searching and blistering gaze.

“Watch it love birds,” He hissed, an unknown emotion coating his voice as he stomped over to the dining table, sitting in the exact spot that he always sat in next to Deceit and Roman. “Don’t you know royalty when you see it?”

Ah, but of course, obviously he needed to line the floors with his blood for Remus to stroll upon. Like true royalty.

Logan shook his head at the bizarre thought, truly unaware as to where it had even come from as he gathered his own plate before making his way to the table. Except, instead of sitting by Patton as he normally did. Logan firmly situated himself between Roman and Remus, he ignored the utterly thankful look that Roman shot him as they all ate together… or at least attempted to, with Remus’ loud smacking mouth and syrup getting all over the table despite just how little Patton have given him. Remus must have known about the disgusted looks and feeling from the others, because with little to no hesitation his actions only grew more exaggerated and his annoying grating smacking all the louder second by second until it became practically unbearable to listen to.

And then Remus accidentally elbowed Logan in the chest with a single movement.

He could tell that it was an accident by the way that Remus’ eyebrows for a brief second sloped downward into worry, and the frown that tugged at his lips. Within seconds, the tense atmosphere at the table shattered, as Roman reached for his sword, a darkened scowl on his lips as if Remus had just horrifically wounded Logan, and the logical side was bleeding out before him.

A chuckle passed Logan’s lips, and in a single instant, everything and everyone froze. “Careful Ram, next thing I know you’ll be aiming to knock off my head guillotine style. I won’t quite forgive you for that one.” He wasn’t entirely sure just where that one had come from, both the nickname that passed his lips as well as the horrific imagery that his words managed to conjure up. And looking at Remus’ face, his open slackjawed mouth that still held his food and the minuscule widening of his equally horrified and shock ridden stormy grey eyes, it was just that alone that told him that he had just said something that left the darker creative side completely and utterly spiraling. He didn't understand the look, or the silent shock written all over Deceit's half normal half-snake face either, as the dishonest side gripped Remus' shoulder so tightly that there wasn't a single chance for him to go and grab his morning star weapon. The both of them wore a look of equal shock, and Logan for the life of him couldn't understand just why that was.

It was a look that didn’t last long.

“What… did you call me?”

#logan sanders #logic sanders #remus sanders #ts remus #deceit sanders #ts deceit #patton sanders #questionable patton #roman sanders #logan is apathy #apathy au #memory alteration

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shewhowantsmouseears · 7 years

Text

The Son Of Scheherazade, 12

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors Drucilla and BlueShifted who deserve all the appreciation in the world, honestly, I don't deserve 'em.

I actually had no idea what to make the challenge until it was time to write it, and my editors gave me some really helpful suggestions. I was very tempted to put some YuGiOh jokes in there =P Anyway, think of this as the end of Part One of our journey - we're finally off to find the parents!

Summary: It's Mickey versus Daisy in a game of wit and gifts! Can Mickey find a way to defeat a mind-reader, or will he lose the woman he loves?

Pete didn't have fond memories of his mother – he didn't have fond memories of anyone. But as he laid there with his swollen ankles, his aching stomach, and the stinging cuts on his face, he decided that the kind touch to his head was indeed motherly. His head lay in Sultana Scheherazade's lap, with her fingers tenderly stroking him as if he was her young son that was now far away. She was humming a soft melody, probably a lullaby from Mickey's baby days. Sultan Al sat with his wife, their backs together, his eyes on the only light in the wide, open cell. A small, square hole was several feet above them, impossible to reach, yet had three solid bars attached to it as if to further mock the prisoners. Sunlight was slowly leaving, and soon it would be night. Then the terrors would begin anew.

Scheherazade accidentally touched one of Pete's cut ears, and he flinched in pain, growling. “My apologies,” she said gently as she pulled her hand back. “I do not know why our captor tortures you so... but never give up hope.” She smiled serenely, never losing her beauty even in the worst of tragedies. “My son will come for us, and every day he is but one step closer to our rescue. Even now, he will gain an ally who will help him find this cursed kingdom.”

Pete grunted, but he didn't pull away. Even if he wanted to, he lacked the strength. “How can you know that?” But this was a question he knew the answer to. It was why he was there.

She resumed petting him. “In the town of Maelumat, they have found a girl with the gift. Once my son has claimed victory, she will be able to lead him where he needs to go.”

The Sultan thumped a fist to his chest. “She won't stand a chance! There is no son more clever than ours.”

Pete doubted this – sons of fools were fools themselves. Footsteps echoed off in the distance, and Scheherazade's kind touch now became tight, her warm eyes now ice cold. Sultan Al tried to get to his feet, but he was losing strength day by day. The footsteps came closer, and the door to the dungeon cell flew open. Spirals of inky black smog wrapped around Pete's feet, dragging him out – his fingers dug into the ground, Scheherazade tried to grab him, and Al struggled to chase the attacker. But as with every night, these attempts failed. The cell door slammed shut once Pete was gone, and he was lost to the darkness.

“Wretch!” Scheherazade screamed, rising to her feet, grabbing the iron bars and shaking them. “You wretch! You will never win, do you hear me? This kingdom of yours will never be what you desire!”

Even though they couldn't see a body, a chilling voice spoke in the dark. “I will have your son... and you will obey me, Lady Scheherazade. One way or another, you will do as I command.”

At the mention of her child, Scheherazade's screams became more frantic. “I will never tell you where he is! Never, not even if you put me to death! You will rue the day you ever thought of harming a single hair on his head! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE MY CHILD!” At this last shout, she broke into tears, and her husband took her into his arms, ashamed that he had no words to console her. All he had now was his faith, the faith in his son to win his game and become closer to freeing his loved ones.

Although right now, he was one of the few people who actually had that faith.

~*~

Not that the members of Goofy's crew weren't trying to have faith in Mickey – it was just becoming a difficult task. While they waited for the appointed time, Mickey paced everywhere his feet could go, struggling to think of strategies against the supernatural. What if he tried to meditate and empty his mind? Or concentrate on something else to block his thoughts? Or just tried to think of a song that would get stuck in his head? Minnie offered the obvious idea of using a wish, but to no one's surprise, it was immediately shot down. He didn't want to abuse Minnie in order to save Minnie. Then there was the biggest bother of them all, his pride, which he didn't tell anyone as he once more walked into the bar when the stars began to decorate the sky.

Mickey's pride had taken a severe blow thanks to Lotus Blossom, and here was a chance to restore what was left. If he wanted to prove he was more than just the Son of Scheherazade, this was the right opportunity for it. He'd have to use his brains to win the day – if only his brain didn't keep saying “I'm doomed” over and over again. He expected his adventures to be full of sword-fights and monsters, not games of wit. The bar was nearly empty, save for the last waitresses heading up a staircase behind the bar, though Mickey couldn't see where it led to. He advanced onward to where he saw Daisy leave before, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

It was Donald. “I know you can do it, Mickey.”

Mickey squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Thanks, Donald...you wouldn't happen to know how I can do it, do you?”

“Heck no. I'd have given up right away.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at that needless honesty, and that's when Panchito burst through their moment of friendship. “Have no worries, amigo! Jose and I have a brilliant idea to help you win the day!”

Jose took his cue from Panchito, suddenly and elaborately moving his arms and hands about. “We'll signal to you and let you know what she's doing! For example, if the challenge is the mischievous game of poker, and she has a queen of hearts, we'll do this!” He and Panchito then performed an absolutely nonsensical dance that had nothing at all to do with hearts, queens, or common sense.

“Uh... thanks, guys, we'll see how that works out.” Mickey drew out his words of gratitude, his last remaining optimism dying. He glanced at his elders, hoping to find some advice or well-wishes, but Goofy, Clarabelle and Horace were all equally nervous, not even able to look Mickey in the eye. They noticed his troubled glare, and gave a trio of shaky thumbs-up. “... Gee, guys, tone it down, or I'll be bursting with confidence.” His sarcasm dripped from his mouth, his entire body now sagging with uncertainty.

Mickey almost didn't bother looking at Minnie, thinking she'd be just as hopeless, but it turned out that she was staring at him with such intensity that he felt he'd melt into the floor. She looked him straight in the eyes, with no quiver to her tiny frame or wringing of her wrists. “You will win, Master,” she said without a doubt in her voice. “You must believe it, and believe in yourself.”

“That's easier said than done,” Mickey admitted, the door to Daisy's room now looking scarier than the open mouth of a shark. “I know that if I think about losing, I'll be sunk, but it's hard to think about anything else.”

Minnie glanced away, then back to him, her cheeks suddenly taking on a reddish hue. She had an idea to distract him – for her freedom! That's what this was about! Certainly nothing else. “Well... what if I gave you something to think about? Something that would make you positive you could win?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet doubtful. “Shoot, I'd take anything at this point. Whaddya got?”

Minnie jabbed her pointer finger to his chest. “Just remember, this is to build up your confidence. That's all. Don't go thinking it means anything more than that. I am a genie, and it is my duty to help my Master in all ways.” She was really more saying it to herself than him, and even then she didn't quite believe it. Regardless of all her silly logic, she leaned in and did it anyway.

She quickly kissed his cheek.

~*~

Within her room, Daisy was making the final arrangements for the challenge. Despite her domineering attitude, her quarters were very messy. Piles of both washed and unwashed clothes lay here and there, with won jewelries lazily stacked on tilted tables. Everything was done haphazardly – a colorful carpet was partially rolled, artwork was hung crookedly, and there was a smell that was possibly old food that had been forgotten about. It made for a startling contrast to the prim and proper beauty that sat at a round table in the middle of the room. She was wearing new trinkets and new make-up, her white hair now rolling down her arm, her pet snake nestled within her braid. The table was covered with a red sheet, with two cups of water. Daisy sat in a wooden chair, quietly shuffling a deck of cards, waiting for her opponent who would sit in the opposite one.

Above her was a shabbily-made balcony, made for the sole purpose of watching Daisy's challenges. She was specifically had it installed so people could come see her taken down challengers, her ego inflated with each face in the crowd. Waitresses and bar patrons were trying to get a good view, eager to see how this would go down, yet also feeling pity for her latest victim. No doubt he was getting ready to lick his wounds and go home crying to mama.

The door smashed open. “BRING IT ON, LADY!” Mickey shouted in a deliriously cheerfully loud boom. “I AM THE SON OF SCHEHERAZADE AND I CAN'T BE BEAT! I AM GUNNA BEAT YOU SIX WAYS 'TIL TUESDAY! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Some of the audience almost fell off the balcony in shock. What could have given him such maddening confidence?

Behind him, Minnie buried her face in her hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “Please make him stop.”

Mickey marched into the room, unable to stop grinning, and he slammed his hands on the table. “I AM GOING TO WIN, AND YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT MY PARENTS, AND THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT, MISSY!” Thank goodness Minnie had only kissed his cheek. Had she gone for the lips, he might have completely lost his mind.

Daisy, all the while, was unimpressed. She didn't even bother looking up as she continued to shuffle and reshuffle. “That was some kiss she gave you.”

“YOU BET IT WAS, AND SHE... how... did...” Like a balloon losing it's air, Mickey's voice lost its loudness as he looked behind him. The door had been shut, so how did Daisy know there had been a kiss – unless she read his mind? “Uh. Oh boy.” Talk about knocking the wind out of his sails – she capsized the entire boat.

Daisy lightly waved her hand towards the group. “Speaking of which, I'll need all of you joining the crowd upstairs. No need for cheaters.”

Panchito snapped his fingers in frustration. “Dang, and we just came up with a new set of hand-signals! Maybe we can sing him clues!” Jose began to hum in agreement.

Donald grabbed each bird by the arm and dragged them away. “If you ask me, a mind-reader is the biggest cheat of them all.”

“Good luck,” said Horace before he left.

“You're gunna need it,” said Clarabelle before she left.

Goofy lightly picked up Minnie in his arms. “All righty, let's head up before you smooch him again and he starts bringing the house down.”

“I DIDN'T KISS HIM BECAUSE I WANTED TO,” Minnie objected with a very loud lie, and the entire group made their way to the balcony as quickly as their feet could take them. Within a minute, they had shoved and pushed their way into the audience, with everyone trying to get a good look at the action.

With a heavy sigh, Mickey took his place at the table. “Now or never, I guess... what's the challenge?”

Daisy finally stopped shuffling, and held up one of the cards – on the one side was a blue and white checkered pattern. On the other was an illustration of an angelic woman, her arms open in grace, with billowing white robes and blonde hair masking her face. “In the west,” Daisy said, laying the card face-up, “there is a belief in beings called angels, who will lead the good to their paradise in the skies above. But there is also the belief in beings called demons, who will take you down to the underworld below. They hide in crowds of angels to lead sinners to their downfall.”

She then pulled out another card and laid it down – it was another angel, but this one was playing a harp, her head bowed in modesty. “In this deck, every angel has a match, but there is only one demon. We start with five cards. Each turn, you have three choices – match and discard the ones in your hand, pick a new card from the deck, or take one from your opponent.” She flipped another card down – it matched the first open-armed angel. “The game stops when one player is stuck with the demon, and is damned to the fiery pits below.”

“This sounds like Old Maid,” Goofy quipped.

“No, it's totally different and exotic and well-thought-out,” Donald whispered.

Daisy took the cards back and shuffled them back onto the deck. “This is your last chance to turn back, your highness. Give me the lamp willingly, and I'll tell you what you want to know... or you can lose the lamp, and your last chance at finding your parents.” She smiled sweetly, as if she wasn't driving a knife into his heart. “Is it really that hard a choice?”

Mickey glared as hard as he could manage, trying to hide his fears about his choices. “Deal me in, Daisy.”

“Suit yourself. Can't say I didn't warn you,” Daisy chirped pleasantly, and she doled out five cards to each of them, placing the deck between them. “As my first and last gesture of fair play, I'll let you go first.”

Mickey looked at the cards in his hands. Two angels were reading a book, one was playing the flute, one was the open-armed woman, and the last had the harp. This was a new game to him in many ways – his father preferred physical games, like playing tag and hide and seek. His mother was always inventing new games with her creative genius. But since he didn't have the demon, maybe things were off to a good start. “I pair.” He slid out the two book-readers and placed them beside the deck.

“I'll take from the deck,” Daisy swiftly took a card into her hand.

“I'll do the same.” This angel was taking a nap on a fluffy cloud.

“I pair.” And so the game went on peacefully for several turns. At first, it was dreadfully boring for the audience above. Some began to nod off.

Mickey's confidence began to return card by card. What was so challenging about this? Shoot, he could beat a child in this game! He glanced at Daisy, who took a sip of water and seemed the same as ever. He fought off a smirk. Maybe she was going easy on him and needed to put on a front for her customers – he could stand a little bit of babying if it meant he got what he needed! “I'll take from the deck.”

And he took the demon.

Even a person without mind-reading powers could have guessed this, judging from Mickey's wide eyes and the huge bite on his lower lip as if he was suppressing the urge to yelp in shock. Daisy chuckled quietly, fanning herself with her hand of cards. “Oh good, things are finally getting interesting!”

“Th-the game's not over yet,” Mickey stammered, trying to believe it himself. He now had six cards in his hand – the napping angel was still with him, an angel listening to a seashell, a pair of angels picking petals off flowers, one kneeling in prayer and lastly, the demon itself – a snarling dark entity with a man's face but goat horns, wearing a gray cloak and holding a scythe in its claws. He shuffled the small bundle in his hands, trying to think.

“I think I'll take sleeping beauty from you,” Daisy said, and she reached over, plucking the napper away.

Mickey froze. He hadn't even finished shuffling, yet she knew what was where! When did she start using her powers? Had she ever even stopped? “I... I'll take from the deck!” But as he reached over, he saw how small the deck was – when the game had started, it seemed like an endless deck. As a result, Mickey kept pulling, pairing, pulling, pairing, and now he could guess there were maybe twenty left. Very soon, it would just be a matter of picking between their hands. Had she planned it all along?

“I decided to go easy on you,” Daisy answered him, and Mickey almost jumped out of his seat. “You seemed to really need a boost of self-esteem after that pretty thief played with your heart. Shame you never got that kiss. I hoped it would've been worth something.”

Mickey slowly took the new card in his hands. “That was then, and this is now. I won't be fooled again!” Maybe if he shuffled them faster, she wouldn't know where the demon was, and he watched his own hands shuffle as quickly as they could.

“You have a pair of horn players on your right,” Daisy chimed in, still perfectly pleasant. “I mean, I could tell you how the entire game is going to go piece by piece, but maybe that would make things a little boring. And I can't stand boring things.” She reached over to pluck away one of the horns players. “Thankfully for me, your head is full of excitement. Daring adventures, new lands, it's all very thrilling...” She lifted her eyes from the cards to his face. “Except for you, poor dear. You are exceptionally, sadly, and undoubtedly dull. ”

Mickey swiftly took a new card from the deck. Even though they were going to run out of cards soon, he felt he couldn't afford to put any pairs down. If he had more cards, maybe it would buy more time. He bit his lip, trying not to say anything, trying not to rise to her bait, no matter how angry he got. “It can't be easy, being the Son of Scheherazade. Mom's got all the fame, and what have you got? A sword you barely know how to use? A flying carpet that doesn't obey you? Oh, by the way, your current strategy isn't going to work.” She placed a pair down.

Mickey could feel his heart beating faster, and he stared down at the cards in his hands. The demon stared back at him, and for a second Mickey thought he heard it laughing cruelly. He noticed that while the background of the demon's scenery was plain white, just like all the other cards, there was the tiniest of smears down in the left corner, a hint of gray. He didn't know why he picked up on such an inconsequential detail when there were more important things to worry about. He picked another card from the deck. Less than fifteen cards remained in the deck. How could he make her choose the demon?

“The demon will never belong to me,” Daisy answered for him, making his nerves extra jumpy. “I'll always know what you have because I'll always know what you know. I know everything about everyone. I know that Clarabelle can't fix her nail-biting habit, I know that Jose is running out of cigars, I know that you're panicking.” She chuckled quietly, taking sheer delight in Mickey's frustration. “Maybe it's a good thing you won't rescue your parents. They'd probably be disappointed to see how you're losing.”

“I won't lose,” but Mickey's voice was a whisper, afraid to look upwards and see the disappointed faces of his friends. No matter how much he moved his cards around, Daisy knew which ones to pick. At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he was stuck with the demon. In a desperate move, he tried to take one of her cards, but before he could slid it into his hands, she merely snatched the same one back, using up her turn to mock him further.

“That lamp is going to look marvelous here,” she cooed, admiring all her treasures from past victories. “I just can't decide where I'm going to put it. Oh well, I'm sure I'll figure out what to do with it... it does have so many vast uses, after all. I wish I could tell you all the possibilities.” She giggled slyly, knowing what buttons to push.

Mickey took a card – now there were ten in the deck. Daisy must have known exactly who – rather, what – Minnie was to say such things, and there was no way she'd ever be a kind master. Minnie's faith in Mickey was going to cost her her freedom. What had he been thinking? He should have just told Minnie no and apologized later! This was going to be all his fault! He was going to lose her, and even worse, she was going to be miserable and chained the rest of her life! She didn't deserve that, no one did!

As Mickey's panic began to override all his senses, one of his hands went to a familiar ritual, rubbing the scar on his neck. The bandanna covering it slid down as he rubbed, revealing the golden hue it now took.

“That's the only problem I have with it,” Daisy lamented as she put another pair down. “I don't think I have any necklaces big enough to cover something like that. But I guess I'll just have to manage. Thank goodness I'm so beautiful that people will be looking everywhere else.”

Mickey furrowed his brows, annoyed by her vanity, knowing she was just rubbing in her victory all the more – but then he really heard it. She thought she was going to get the scar when she got the lamp. Mickey's hand stayed where it was, finally losing its shakes. The scar got its golden appearance by a wish, but the scar itself had been there ever since his childhood – from that one blood-soaked day – from the day of revenge - Mickey's eyes slowly began to widen. Daisy thought the scar came from the lamp. Did she not know where it really came from? How could she not, if she was reading his mind?

Unless...

Mickey's eyes met Daisy's eyes and refused to move. If he was right, there was one way to test it. He refused to look at anything but her, and instead of thinking about what cards to play or even that terrible day of his past, he thought one sentence over and over.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

Daisy plucked a card from Mickey's hand. “So, are you going to apologize to the little lady now, or will you wait until I win-” In that second, Mickey's hand suddenly lashed out, smacking his glass off the table and shattering it on the floor. Daisy jumped out of her seat, and members of the audience gasped in surprise. Daisy stared down at the mess, and then clicked her tongue. “Daddy's temper, I see. Maybe you did inherit something from your parents after all.”

But when she lifted her head, she didn't see a single trace of anger on Mickey's face. Instead, much to her shock, and the shock of those above, Mickey was grinning, displaying all his pearly-whites. “On the contrary, Daisy... I've never felt happier! I'm about to turn this game right back around!”

Daisy sat back down, snorting in disbelief. “Is that right? Or did the pressure make you snap?”

“I haven't lost my mind – maybe if you actually could read minds, you'd know that for a fact!” Mickey slammed all his cards face-down, eyes burning with new intensity. “I'm calling your bluff – you never could read minds! This has all been a trick!”

At last, there was a crack in Daisy's armor – she swallowed hard, slow, her fingers drumming the table beat by beat. Up above, whispers began to turn into shouts. “She can't read minds?” Goofy repeated, scratching his head. “How can that be? She knows everything!”

“She doesn't know my Master!” Minnie was on the edge of the balcony, clicking her heels over and over in delight. She was so thrilled by this turn-around she forgot her whole 'cold as ice' act.

“That's a dangerous assumption to make, your highness,” Daisy finally replied, snatching a new card from the deck, the first time she'd done so in ages. “What makes you think I'm not what I say I am?”

“You've got some kind of trick up your sleeve,” Mickey admitted, removing the bandanna from his neck. “But this right here...for the longest time, I wore it as a mark of shame for my family. The real memory behind this haunted me for years... but today, I'm wearing it as a badge of honor! Because you can't tell me where it really came from, can you?” He hadn't told a single person the ship – he hadn't even told Pluto. There were only a handful of people who knew the origin of the scar, and Mickey knew Daisy wasn't one of them. “If you can really read my mind, then read it now, and tell me how I got it!”

Daisy didn't answer right away, but her cheery demeanor had begun to darken considerably. The drumming on the table got louder and faster, nearly making the table quiver. The snake in her hair poked its tiny head out to hiss, only stopping when Daisy spoke in a cold tone. “Nothing says you've won yet. As long as you still have the demon in your possession, the game is far from over. I know exactly what cards you had!”

“But do you know exactly where they are?” Mickey countered, placing his hands back on the table. Without waiting her for her to answer, he began to shuffle them around quickly, never looking down. “Somehow you saw what I saw – but if I can't see what I have, how can you?” It was a dangerous gamble, but for now it was all he had.

“You'll regret messing with me, kid!” Daisy snapped, reaching over to take a card. Relief flooded her face, and she turned it over to reveal an angel lighting a candle. “Seems like lady luck is on my side. Rather fitting, since your experience with ladies is less than nil.”

“Your head games won't work on me anymore.” Mickey took a card from the deck, reshuffling the ones on the table. “You know information, but you don't know people! You know what you see, but you can't see anything past that! You see me only as the Son of Scheherazade, but I'm much more than that!” She couldn't read his mind, so now he was free to think again! If she was more focused on playing mental tricks on people, then she wasn't a real strategist after all. That meaningless detail from before – had a part of him known it would come in handy? “I'm more than who I came from.” He laid his cards back down, and now afforded a look at their backs. If that one card had a stain on its front, if he was right about where it came from – he slid one card a quarter-inch above the rest -

“You'll never be anything more than the Son of Scheherazade!” Daisy declared as she snatched a card, but her confidence was obliterated when she saw what was in her hands. “W-what the..? How?” There in her fingers sat the demon in all its hellish glory.

Mickey smiled, and for the first time since the game started he looked up at the audience. All their previously downtrodden faces were now glowing in happy surprise, with Donald, Jose, and Panchito all dancing in an ill-placed circle. Clarabelle and Horace were hugging, Goofy was laughing, and Minnie was gazing at him in wonder, her hands on her cheeks, eyes starry. Mickey was definitely going to remember that last one for a long time. “It's an old kid's trick... you push the card you want your opponent to take just a little bit up, and they'll grab it because it's closest!” With his hand free of demons, he picked his cards back up and placed a pair down.

Daisy inhaled deeply, taking a new card from the deck. Soon it would be completely empty, and they'd be down to the ones in their hands. “I won't fall for that again. Just because I have the demon doesn't mean anything's decided yet! Whatever gifts I have, you have none. You have no idea where it is!” She shuffled her hand, but Mickey wasn't wavering – he swiftly took one card from her, returning the candle angel to his hand.

Deck, pair, pair, deck, pair, deck, deck, deck – several turns passed, with crowd beginning to cheer for Mickey each time a card was taken. Now the deck was gone, and the two opponents had only what was left in their hands. Daisy had five, Mickey had four. At one madcap turn, Daisy tried to pull the same trick on Mickey he'd done for her, but it failed, and now Daisy was left with four, and after Mickey placed a pair down, he had three.

Daisy wiped sweat from her brow, her eyes dancing back and forth between her cards. “How can you possibly know what you're doing? I've never lost a single game in my entire life! What makes you think someone like you can beat me?”

“I said it before, Daisy,” Mickey snatched another card from Daisy, leaving her with three. “You don't see beyond the surface!”

“What can you see that I can't see?” Daisy yanked a card back. “There's nothing I can't see!”

Back and forth, back and forth, a pair – now Mickey had one card, and Daisy two. It would take just one movement to end everything, and judging from Mickey's beaming face, he knew exactly what to do. He stood up out of his chair, feeling tall for one of the very few times in his short life. “You know how to play people like a fiddle. You can't see what's in their heads, but you know how to get in them. It makes people mighty nervous... and I bet you've played this exact game with a bunch of people. And when you play your tricks, they get so nervous they sweat. And you've used this trick and this game on so many people... it's left its mark!” The stain on the corner of the card had been a sweaty thumbprint – and there were similar, small stains on its back, where the other fingers would have been! Daisy had been so used to messing with people she never took an actual good look at the cards she used. While the other cards bore the marks of time, the demon's smears stood out most of all.

With one last pull, he took away the remaining angel card, holding it with the last card and flashing them both for all to see – two harps. “I walk with the angels, Daisy – game over!”

The crowd exploded into ecstatic cheers, people kissing and hugging each other, threatening to break the poorly-made balcony with each triumphant jump. The beastly owner of the bar had been bested! The impossible had been done! Three cheers for the Son of Scheherazade! Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me! M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E! Minnie pushed past the chants and cheers, trying to get back down the stairs so she could see Mickey face to face. Once again, he had done what others thought couldn't - or just thought he couldn't. Was there no limit to his strength, to his bravery, to his cleverness? He was truly something, wasn't he?

There came that strange, warm feeling in her chest, but now it was much more intense, like a fever, which was strange because genies didn't get sick. How odd. Oh well, it was hardly anything to worry about now – Mickey had won! His parents were as good as rescued! Freedom was almost hers! Mickey had won, Mickey had won, her marvelous Master had won!

Daisy stayed silent in her seat for a long time, her fingers curling and crumpling the demon card. This was a new sensation for her – loss. She took her time leaving her seat, her eyes unreadable. She walked around the table, her every step a stomp. “That...was...SO MUCH FUN!”

Mickey dropped his cards. “Huh?”

“I've never lost before! This is amazing!” Daisy grabbed Mickey's hands, swinging them around happily. “Oh, thank you, your highness! You've brought the most excitement I've ever had in my whole entire life! This was grand!” She even hugged him tightly, popping one foot up. “A true cure for my boredom at last! I've never been happier!”

“You're... welcome?” Mickey replied in confusion – given all the enemies he'd dealt with before, he was expecting something along the lines of “You'll rue the day!” or “Curse you, boy!” Even though he had uncovered some of the truth about her, he was quite certain he'd never entirely understand her. “You are still going to tell me about my parents, right?”

“Fiddle-de-dee, of course I am, silly.” Daisy lightly poked his nose, and then went to a pile of clothes to dig something from within. She popped out an old cloth bag, and began to stuff it with clothes and jewels. “But first, it's time to pack.”

While the bar patrons above were still partying, Goofy's crew stopped. Clarabelle went white. “Did she say pack?”

“I have a bad feeling,” Horace added. Just because Daisy wasn't a mind reader didn't stop her from being unpleasant to be around.

“Pack?” Mickey scratched his head. “What for?”

“Well, you don't expect me to travel with you guys without my things, do you?” she chirped, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“Travel – that wasn't part of the deal!” Mickey squeaked, looking up at his friends for help, but they'd already started running, hoping to get to the ship before she did.

“It wasn't not part of the deal!” Daisy said, chipper as she looped her arm around Mickey's. “Oh, and don't take what I said during the game too seriously. You're a good kid! I just like messing with people. Think of me as the troll under the bridge, bothering the billy-goats as they pass.” She then proceeded to drag the stunned mouse to the door.

Mickey had won, but he was also starting to feel he'd also somehow lost. “Didn't the troll eat the billy-goats?”

“Tomato, tamata.”

The door opened before they made it, with Minnie ready to heap praise upon her Master. “I knew you could do it! I knew you were...” She trailed off, seeing the two arm-in-arm. “... Did I miss something?”

“Yep.” Daisy grinned. “We're eloping!”

“WHAT?!”

“Heeheeheeheeeeeeee~! Just kidding.” Daisy laughed, pushing Minnie aside to walk on. “This is going to be so much fun! So many new toys to play with!”

And so the terror of Maelumat finally left, leaving the waitresses wondering who owned it now, before deciding to form the world's first worker's union.

~*~

Pete could taste blood in his mouth, and he didn't want to look up. Yet even when his eyes shut, he knew who stood before him with a whip in his hand, and he heard the dark chuckles vibrating in his ears.

“So, the boy is in Maelumat?” the shadowy master confirmed. “Excellent work, Pete. She won't tell me a thing... but as long as she's convinced you're just as much my prisoner as she is, she'll spill her guts to you all day long.”

“Speaking of guts spilling...” Pete groaned, his hands on his stomach. “How about we call it quits early tonight?”

The man tsked. “Now now... we have to make her believe I'm torturing you, and make it look real. If you want their kingdom to belong to you again, you'll just have to endure it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, so it's said.”

Pete didn't know how that could be right, when he felt as weak as a kitten, and not just physically. Every day, as he felt the motherly touch at day and the stinging whip at night, his soul and humanity died a little bit more.

“My kingdom will return to its glory,” said the dark being, raising his weapon again, “And soon, all will worship The Phantom Prince!”

#disney #fanfic #the son of scheherazade #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #daisy duck

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dragon-temeraire · 8 years

Text

What You Need

Summary: Derek is an alpha with unusual desires.

Notes: This fic was inspired by an ABO meta I saw, which said that due to the large amount of come alphas produced, they would have large prostates. And so, they should absolutely love getting fucked. I had intended this to be a quick excuse for porn…but it kinda spiraled out of control. For the purposes of this fic, sex refers to the designations alpha, beta and omega. (On AO3)

Erica rolls across his bed, skirt riding up, and Derek idly wonders if he’s going to end up with lipstick on his pillow. She gives him a playful wink, sitting up as she does.

“You think that’s good enough?” she asks. “I mean, that’s probably a realistic amount of scent.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says. “They’ll definitely be able to tell that an omega was here.”

Erica nods and slides out of the bed, flicking her hair over her shoulder and heading for the living room.

“Been hanging around Lydia?” he asks teasingly, because the gesture is very familiar.

“You know it,” Erica says with a tiny, genuine smile. She flops down on the couch and says, “You ever gonna tell me why you go through this charade?”

It’s a familiar question. Lydia had asked pretty much the same thing, the first couple weeks he’d asked her to come over. Erica only fills in for him when Lydia is busy, which has been more often lately. But even though they don’t see each other as often, Derek’s beginning to enjoy her friendship as much as he enjoys Lydia’s.

“I have to keep up appearances,” he says, because he doesn’t want to lie to her. “The team’s here pretty often, and they wouldn’t understand why—”

“Why their big bad alpha team captain isn’t just rolling in omegas, all day every day?” Erica says, laughing. “You’re not a real alpha until you’re getting laid on the regular, am I right?”

Derek sighs. “That’s how a lot of them feel, that’s supposedly how things should be. But that’s never been me.”

Erica nods. “Well, if you’re not into the causal thing, why not date an omega? Or even a beta? Bring them back here, and get your place smelling like pheromones in the usual way,” she says with a wink.

“It’s not—it’s not that easy,” Derek says, watching Erica move from the couch to the armchair.

“I don’t see why not,” she says, settling in comfortably. “I mean, not only are you a very good-looking team captain, you also don’t see omegas as being inherently lesser, which is a real novelty.”

“That’s how it should be,” Derek says firmly. “Omegas are just as—”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Erica says, laughing. “Especially if you’re just trying to stall.”

Derek sighs and looks away, because she’s not wrong. “Thank you for your time, Erica. Let me know if you need anything,” he says firmly. He may be getting closer to Erica, but he still doesn’t want to discuss this with her.

“All right, all right,” Erica says, obviously taking a hint. She gently squeezes his shoulder as she heads for the door. “I’m sorry I pushed.”

“It’s okay,” Derek says as she steps into the hallway. “It’s just…personal.”

Erica nods. “I understand,” she says seriously, but cracks a grin when Derek’s phone suddenly goes off in the background. “That’s my cue,” she says, giving him a little wave.

Derek waves back, heads inside his apartment to grab his cell. It’s a series of texts from some of the freshman bench warmers, asking if they can come hang out. Derek takes a deep breath, notes the way Erica’s light, sweet omega scent permeates the room.

Perfect timing, he thinks, and types sure, come on over.

Lydia’s right on time next week, hair perfectly styled and smile just a little bit sharp. It makes Derek feel wary, because Lydia is way too smart, though he knows she’s only looking out for him.

She slips out of her heels and heads straight for the bedroom, and Derek automatically follows her. She leaps onto his perfectly made bed, and when she sees him lingering in the doorway, pointedly rolls her eyes at him.

“Come on,” she says, patting the comforter. “Join me.”

She says it sweetly, but Derek knows there’s steel underneath. Lydia is both kind and formidable, and it’s one of the reasons he likes her so much.

She rolls onto her side when he lays next to her, so they’re almost touching, but not quite.

“So, Derek,” she says, smile still in place. “I’ve been doing this for you for nearly six months now, but I’m still not really sure why.” She raises an eyebrow expectantly, obviously prepared to wait.

Derek clenches his jaw, deliberating.

Into the ensuing silence, Lydia says, “I hear it’s to keep up appearances, but I’m not sure why you couldn’t do that by actually dating someone. If you’re not interested in omegas, I know several single betas,” she adds helpfully.

“You just want to know so you have an excuse to talk to Erica, maybe get closer to her,” he says, because they’ve obviously been conferring over this.

To his surprise, Lydia actually blushes. “Maybe,” she admits. “But we both know that’ll never happen.”

Derek isn’t so sure, but he’s trying to stick to one problem at a time. “I have to keep up appearances because some part of the team is over here every day! And they can’t know—” he cuts himself off.

“Can’t know what? That you’re celibate?” She lays her hand on Derek’s arm for a moment, face serious. “If there’s someone you’re interested in, they’re probably going to think you’re taken, considering the scent of this place.”

“There is someone,” Derek says neutrally. “But it’s never going to happen.”

“You sound just like me,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “Are they already mated, or something?”

“No, he’s single,” Derek says shortly, wondering if she’ll be satisfied with just that.

Of course, she isn’t.

“So, what’s the problem, then? You’re a real catch, Derek. Why don’t you ask him out?”

“He’s on the team,” Derek says, trying to work up to it gradually.

“Well, I suppose that could get awkward—”

“And he’s an alpha,” Derek blurts, suddenly wanting to get this over with.

“What?” Lydia says sharply, looking startled.

Derek decides to just keep going. “And coach is probably going to make him my co-captain next year,” he says, and he knows the exact moment Lydia figures it out.

“Oh my god, you’ve been pining after Stiles?” she says, sounding, if possible, even more shocked.

“There’s nothing wrong with Stiles,” Derek says defensively, frowning when Lydia starts to laugh.

“I knew Stiles in high school,” she says, still grinning. “And he’s Erica’s best friend, so I see him all the time. And while I can say that he’s gotten better over the years, he’s still an awkward dork.” But her tone is rather fond, and Derek isn’t fooled for a moment.

“I kinda like the awkward dorkiness,” he says, shrugging. “And he’s pretty great out on the field, too.”

“Wow, you really do have a crush,” Lydia says, eyebrows raised. “A crush on another alpha. So does that mean you’re willing to—”

“Lydia,” Derek says sharply, feeling embarrassed. “But yeah, I am,” he adds quietly, feeling his cheeks heat.

Lydia just nods, looking thoughtful, but not judgmental. Then her eyes widen. “Wait a minute! Derek, you gave him a key to your place!”

“Um, yeah. Like I said, he’s gonna be co-captain with me. And he’s over here all the time anyway, he has really shitty roommates,” he explains. “How do you know that, anyway?”

“Because I was there when he told Erica. He was super excited,” she says, frowning. “They both were, actually. I’m not sure why Erica would care, but Stiles was definitely stoked.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “Really? Because he didn’t make a big deal of it when I gave it to him. He just said thanks, told me he’d text me a heads-up whenever he wanted to come over.”

“Well, Stiles can be surprisingly good at playing it cool,” Lydia says. She pauses, pulls idly at a thread on Derek’s pillowcase. “I think you should tell him.”

“That I’m an alpha who’s into other alphas? I think not,” Derek says firmly.

“Stiles isn’t your typical alpha,” Lydia says, sitting up. “I think you should give him a chance.”

“Like you’re doing with Erica?” Derek asks slyly, because two can play that game.

“Oh, hush,” Lydia says. “If you don’t want to tell him about your crush, you should at least tell him about your interests. I mean, you guys are supposed to be working closely together, he’ll probably figure it out eventually.”

“I doubt it,” Derek says, rolling his eyes. “He’s always asking about all the omegas I have over.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” she huffs, and rolls out of bed. “I’m going to go take a nap on your couch.”

“All right,” Derek says, laying back and letting his eyes slide shut. A nap sounds like a really good idea.

Derek didn’t want to tell Lydia, but he’s more than willing to be fucked, and he spends a lot of his time longing for it.

He’d discovered that when he was fifteen. He’d been deep in his rut, but he’d gotten tired of thrusting his cock between his hands, or his pillows, tired of imagining what he was supposed to be imagining to get off.

He’d rolled onto his back, still achingly hard, and had slid a hand down, past his cock to the soft skin between his legs, then just a little bit further, to touch his hole curiously. He’d heard the omegas at school talking about wanting to be filled, about using their fingers to ease the longing, and he drags his fingertip over it, wondering.

He squeezes some lube into his hand, letting it warm a moment, then slowly slides one slicked-up finger inside himself. He wiggles it around a little, finds it strange to be feeling the inside of his own body.

He rocks it in little thrusts, trying to mimic what sex might be like. The sensation isn’t unpleasant, but it isn’t great, either. Still, he’s determined, so he works his finger deeper, feeling bold, and accidentally hits a spot that makes his whole body jolt.

It gives him a weird feeling, almost like he’s going to come, so he does it again, just a little more cautiously. His dick twitches hard as he rubs across it again. He keeps at it, until the feeling of all the little orgasms adds up to one big one, and leave him shuddering on the bed as he comes and comes.

He’d decided right then and there that he didn’t care what society said about alphas. He wasn’t going to let omegas have all the fun.

Of course, regardless of what he said, he really did care, and worked hard to keep his interests a secret. Especially when, throughout school, alphas gradually became more attractive to him than omegas.

He only bought one small dildo in the time he was at home, because he was desperately afraid that someone would find out, and as a teenager, that seemed like a death sentence.

But, when he’d moved away for college, those concerns were suddenly no longer relevant.

Derek unlocks his front door, practically tingling in anticipation. He’s just picked up his package from the mail room downstairs, and he can’t wait to open it up and see his brand new dildo. This one’s special—it has an inflatable cuff at the base, allowing the user to simulate knotting once it’s inserted.

He can’t wait to try it.

Once he’s inside the door, he yanks open the box, eager for a look. The dildo is bright red, which he’s not thrilled about, but it was better than light purple or neon green. He attaches the air hose to the bottom of it, squeezing the bulb and watching the “knot” slowly grow larger and larger.

He touches the plastic, feeling how sturdy it is, and it sends a spike of heat through him.

Finally, he’s going to get to experience something close to the real thing. He’s finally going to get knotted.

He rinses and dries the toy, then heads eagerly for his bedroom, unzipping his pants as he goes. He pulls the door shut behind him, kicking his jeans toward the bed and squirming out of his shirt.

He has this game he likes to play, where he watches alpha-omega porn, and mirrors everything done to the omega on himself. He always tries to come when the omega does.

He cues up the video he wants, and lubes up his dildo while the performers kiss and undress each other.

The alpha leans back, pulling the omega on top of him and teasing him with the head of his cock. Derek sets his dildo on a pillow and inches down onto it, in the same little fluttery jolts as the omega, letting it slowly stretch him open.

The omega grinds a little, obviously adjusting, and Derek does the same, making a little groan of pleasure. He just keeps working himself, gaze rapt on the screen, when the alpha suddenly rolls them over, pressing the omega down into the bed.

Derek rolls onto his back, too, though it’s harder to thrust the dildo into himself this way. The angle does feel great, though, and he finds himself gasping as he bucks his hips up into it.

He moans when the alpha starts fucking the omega harder, and quickly increases his own pace. The alpha starts to push deeper, lingering, and Derek whimpers, already anticipating feeling that knot inside him.

He’s just about to reach down and start stroking himself in time with the omega, when his bedroom door suddenly flies open.

“Derek, are you oka—” Stiles begins, then cuts himself off when he sees what Derek is doing. He just stands there, frozen in the doorway, his wide eyes flitting from the dildo in Derek’s ass, then to his face, then back to the dildo again.

“Stiles!” Derek yelps, trying to sit up, but the rigidness of the dildo, combined with his feeling of horror, prevent him from doing so. He yanks the sheet over himself instead. “What are you doing here?” he demands, heart pounding in his chest.

“I texted you!” Stiles blurts, still looking freaked out. “I told you I was coming over to study. Then I heard a weird noise from your room, and—” he cuts himself off, breathing hard, and Derek suddenly notices the high flush of color on his cheeks. “You’re an alpha,” he says, like he can’t quite believe it. “Why are you—” Then he just sharply shakes his head, turning and walking away.

Derek waits to hear the front door slam, but it doesn’t happen. He sighs. Looks like he’s going to have to finish this conversation after all.

He leans back and slowly pulls out the dildo, wincing, because he’s definitely not in the mood anymore. He drags on a pair of loose sweatpants, but nothing else, because this is his apartment. He’s not in the wrong here, and he can wear whatever he wants.

He finds his phone on the floor beside the bed, and sure enough, there are a couple of texts from Stiles. He reads them both, then tosses his phone onto the bed. He lets out a sigh and thinks, Lydia was right. This was not the way for Stiles to find out.

But he refuses to linger here, brooding over it. He straightens his back and sets his jaw, and walks confidently out into the living room.

Stiles is there, pacing back and forth, but he freezes when Derek comes in. His eyes linger on Derek’s bare chest, then dip down to Derek’s low-slug pants, before he stiffens and looks away.

“Why were you doing that?” he asks neutrally, eyes flicking briefly to Derek. “Why were you using a sex toy for omegas?”

“They’re for anyone,” Derek says coolly, because surely there are others like him out there. There just have to be. “And I was doing it because it felt good.”

“But you’re an alpha,” Stiles says again, like that’s supposed to change what Derek wants.

“An alpha who’s into other alphas,” Derek says, because he’s sure Stiles is going to ask.

“What? But this place always smells like omega!” Stiles says, crossing his arms defensively. “I thought you were getting laid—”

“I have a lot of omega friends,” Derek says sharply. “I was under the impression that you did, too.”

Stiles looks suitably chagrined then, ducking his head. “I just—I don’t get it, okay? You’re like, the alpha ideal, and you don’t even want to fuck anyone?”

Stiles sounds genuinely bewildered, rather than disgusted, but it still hurts.

“I don’t need to live to anyone’s standards but my own,” Derek says, because it’s true, though he knows he’s been actively hiding this all along.

Stiles stares at him for a long moment. “I suppose you’re right,” he says, looking at Derek, then away again. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go now.”

Derek silently watches him shoulder his bag and hurry out the door. When it clicks shut behind him, he slumps down on the couch, feeling wrung-out. He presses his face against the cushions and tries to decide if he wants to cry, or if he wants to call Lydia.

Eventually, he decides that he’s not going to do either.

Stiles shows up at his apartment almost a week later. Derek’s only seen him at practice and in the one class they have together, and it’s all been very awkward. Everybody’s murmuring about rumors of some big fallout between them, and Derek just doesn’t care enough to correct them.

It’s obvious Stiles hasn’t told them the real reason, and he supposes that’s something to be grateful for.

Stiles meets his eyes and then looks away, fingers pulling nervously at each other. “Hey, Derek,” he says to Derek’s shoes. His eyes flick up, then away again. “Can I come in?”

Derek is incredibly tempted to say no, afraid Stiles going to say something cruel, but he holds the door open anyway.

Stiles shuffles in, looks around like he hasn’t been here a hundred times before. Derek pushes the door closed and leans back against it, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles blurts, then looks surprised that he said it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I shouldn’t have acted that way, I’m sure that it hurt you.” He looks up then, face resolute. “I never wanted to do that to you.”

Derek crosses his arms, not ready to be forgiving yet. “You didn’t seem too worried about it last time you were here. You acted like I was a freak,” he says coldly. “So what changed your mind?”

Stiles actually has the grace to wince. “I was talking to Erica about it, and she told me I was being an asshole. She convinced me that being into your own sex wasn’t that unusual.”

“How’d she do that?” Derek asks, curious in spite of himself.

“Well, she mentioned her serious crush on Lydia, another omega,” Stiles says, lips quirking up. “Best of all, Lydia overheard her and asked her out, right there at the kitchen table. Then she told me I needed to get over myself,” he adds wryly.

That pulls a small smile out of Derek, because that sounds just like her. And so much for it never happening, he thinks victoriously. Turns out she’s not always right after all.

“Look, can we go for coffee or something?” Stiles asks, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Why?” Derek asks, trying to hold onto his bad mood. “So you can embarrass me in public?”

“No man, so we can talk,” Stiles huffs. “I’m trying not to be an asshole this time. But I understand if you don’t want to.”

Nothing about Stiles reads as insincere, so Derek doesn’t really see a reason not to give him a chance. “Fine. You want to go now?”

“Wait, really? I mean, um.” Stiles clears his throat. “Yeah, I know a good place,” he says eagerly, heading toward the door.

Derek tries not to smile as he follows after him.

Can’t make this too easy, after all.

Derek takes a sip of his hot chocolate, waiting. They’re sitting at a secluded table in a busy coffee shop near campus. Stiles has a plain black coffee, and his fingers are already tapping nervously on the side of the cup.

“When I was coming here as a freshman,” Stiles says suddenly, “I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to join the lacrosse team. Sure, I’d gotten better and better through high school, but I wasn’t quite convinced.” He gives Derek a wry little grin, takes a sip of his coffee. “So I checked out some of the practices you guys had before tryouts, and I saw you play. I decided, right then and there, that I was gonna go for it.”

“Why?” Derek asks curiously. “I wasn’t even team captain then.”

“Yeah, but you were still a phenomenal player.” He sighs. “But it wasn’t just that. You were absurdly good-looking, powerful, confident, and yet still kind. I desperately wanted to emulate you.”

Derek takes a drink of his hot chocolate, trying to hide his surprise. Stiles is always so perfectly himself at all times, Derek can’t imagine him trying to be anyone else.

“At least, that’s what I convinced myself it was,” Stiles continues. “I never really fit the norm, you know. When I was younger, and I’d told people I’d presented as an alpha, they’d say are you sure? And hearing that so often, it made me push so hard, always trying to be bigger and better. Trying to be more.”

Derek nods in understanding, and Stiles looks down at his cup, closing his hands tightly around it.

“So that’s why, when I saw you last week…you were the perfect alpha, and you didn’t even want it. Obviously I didn’t react well. And I realized later, that I had made you feel just the way all those people had made me feel for years, and I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, looks back up at Derek. “I always thought I was a pretty open-minded alpha, always tried to be supportive of omegas and betas in traditionally alpha roles. But clearly I’ve got a ways to go. There’s nothing wrong with you, Derek,” he says firmly. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

“Society made me feel that way,” Derek says wryly. “And so did I, by working so hard to keep it a secret. But I appreciate you doing this,” he says, smiling a little. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to at least try to explain,” Stiles says, shrugging, and taps his fingers against the table. “There’s one more thing I should tell you, though.”

“You’re not quitting the team, are you?” Derek asks suddenly, alarmed.

“What? No!” Stiles says quickly. “Though I probably should, to keep things from being horribly awkward. So, hear me out,” he says, when Derek goes to ask.

Derek subsides, takes a sip of his hot chocolate instead, watching Stiles intently.

“See, I had convinced myself that I had joined the team because I wanted to be like you. Told myself that was why I always wanted to be around you. Because I didn’t want to accept the truth,” he sighs. “I had a crush on you, but I couldn’t bear to admit it. Because real alphas don’t have crushes on other alphas. So I just…resisted it for as long as I could.” He rubs his hand across his face, not looking at Derek.

“I think maybe we need to start redefining what it means to be a real alpha,” Derek says, smiling. “Oh, and Stiles? I’ve had a crush on you since you joined the team,” he adds, laughing at Stiles’ shocked expression.

“No way,” Stiles says. “You’re just messing with me now.”

“I’m not,” Derek says, trying to rein in his mirth. “Lydia and I were having weekly meetings about our fruitless pining.”

“That’s why your place always smelled like omega!” Stiles says triumphantly. “Which was weird to me, because you never actually dated anyone. Ever. I thought you were only into casual stuff.”

“Well, it was on purpose,” Derek says, a little sheepishly. “I guess I just wanted to give you guys the impression that I was normal. I figured I was never going to get to be with who I wanted anyway, so I might as well blend in.”

“You had me fooled,” Stiles says. “I mean, it was totally believable that you were getting laid all the time,” he adds with a little wink.

“Maybe that’s not such a good thing,” Derek sighs. “If the rest of the team finds out, they’ll probably be as shocked as you were. They might not want me to be their captain anymore.”

“What? No way!” Stiles says. “You know that whole team loves you, right? I think they’d accept you no matter what.”

“I—really?” Derek says, taken aback. “I knew that they liked me, but—”

“Dude, no,” Stiles cuts in. “Coach actually had to call a meeting, and asked everyone if they’d accept me as co-captain before he even talked to you about it. That’s how loyal they are. Derek, they’re not gonna care what you’re into, as long as you keep being awesome.”

Derek laughs. “Really? Well, they obviously decided in your favor.”

“I made a good case,” Stiles says, grinning.

“You must have,” Derek says. He goes to take a sip of his drink, and realizes his chocolate has gone cold. “Thank you for telling me all of this,” he says, and then stands to go.

“Derek, wait,” Stiles says quickly, in almost a whisper. “Don’t you want to talk about our mutual crushes?”

Derek sits heavily back in his chair. “Didn’t think you were still interested,” he says. “Especially not after what you saw.”

“My initial reaction was bad. But when I was thinking about it later—” Stiles clears his throat, looking embarrassed. “I definitely still have a crush on you. And I’d love a chance to take you on a date.”

Derek stares down at his cup, trying to buy himself time. “Are you sure?” he asks, because he’s already been hurt once by Stiles, and he’s not really up for it again.

“I mean, it might not work out. But I’d really just like a chance,” Stiles says, leaning forward. “Just one date. What do you say?”

Derek is sort of wondering if he’s going to wake up alone in his bed, and find that none of this has really happened. But he doubts his subconscious has this good of a grasp of Stiles’ earnest, sincere expression.

“This isn’t the date, right?” he asks, because he’s still trying to figure out what he really wants to say.

Stiles snorts. “Nah, I wouldn’t spring it on you like that,” he says, smiling.

“Stiles, you know that if we do this, people will likely say awful things to both of us, right? Are you really up for that?” Derek asks.

“I would sorta think I deserved it, after what I said to you,” Stiles says, the corner of his mouth pulling down. “But I’m ready.”

“Nobody deserves it,” Derek says, more sharply than he intends to. But he’ll take Stiles at his word. “So,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. “Where are you taking me for dinner?”

The date goes better than Derek could have ever expected. Not only because Stiles is wonderful, but also because no one says anything rude, not even when Stiles reaches across the table to hold Derek’s hand.

It makes Derek feel light and happy, and he eagerly splits a dessert with Stiles. It starts out with Stiles romantically feeding Derek little bites of the sundae, but it ends with Stiles staging a mock-duel with their spoons for the last scoop. Stiles looks pleased when it makes Derek laugh.

And he doesn’t let go of Derek’s hand, not even when they leave the restaurant and head for their cars. Stiles keeps sending him these tiny, elated glances, so Derek can’t quite keep himself from pulling Stiles into a brief kiss. He catches Stiles’ surprised look as slides into the Camaro, and he grins brightly.

Stiles comes over the day after their third date, and pulls Derek into bed.

He doesn’t do anything except hold him close, and Derek tucks his face against Stiles’ neck, breathing deeply.

“You mean a lot to me,” Stiles whispers against his hair, holding him tighter. “We can have this, no matter what other people think.”

Derek relaxes into it, feeling safe, and forgets about the two freshman who said they wouldn’t play with someone like Derek as captain.

Stiles takes Derek to a three-hour super hero movie, but it’s worth it, just to see how excited Stiles gets. Sometimes he’ll lean over and eagerly whisper some fact about one of the characters, and it makes Derek smile.

Derek takes Stiles to the Natural History museum, talks in-depth about the exhibits. Stiles asks question after question, and listens eagerly to the answers. Derek has never felt more interesting. When they go into the planetarium, Stiles rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, and it makes him feel warm all over.

Stiles comes over the weekend after their fifth date, looking cheerful.

“Hey, Derek,” he says brightly. “Want to watch a movie or something?”

“No,” Derek says. He’d been considering using his alone time to get re-acquainted with that dildo. Then Stiles had texted, and he’d had to change his plans.

“Me either,” Stiles says, still grinning, and sits on the couch next to Derek. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions instead?”

“What kind of questions?” Derek asks warily.

“Personal ones,” Stiles says, tucking his legs up to get more comfortable. “But you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Derek leans back against the cushions, feeling uncertain. It’s not surprising that Stiles would want to know more about him. They are dating, after all. So he might as well hear what the questions are.

“Okay,” he says. “What do you want to know?”

“Were you always attracted to alphas?” Stiles asks.

Derek considers it for a moment. “Seems that way. I mean, I always liked omegas, always liked being around them, but in more of a friendship way. But yeah, once my classmates stared talking about crushes, I realized most of mine were on other alphas.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

“Huh?” Stiles says, still clearly thinking about Derek’s answer. “No, you’re the first alpha I’ve been into.” He pauses, bites at his lip. “Actually, that’s not true. You’re the first alpha I’ve acknowledged having a crush on. There was this alpha on my high school lacrosse team that was such a dick, but he was so hot. I just couldn’t admit I had a crush on him.”

Derek raises his eyebrows, amused. “I guess that’s lucky for me, then. Was that all you wanted to know?”

“No, I really wanted to ask, um,” Stiles says, looking embarrassed now. “How you found out that you liked…” he waves his hand helplessly, blushing.

“Penetration?” Derek asks boldly, smirking a little.

“Yeah,” Stiles says quickly. “How did you know you were into it?”

Derek’s been hesitant on having sex with Stiles, unsure if he’s just in this because he knows Derek is agreeable to being fucked. But this—this would be something different. An opportunity, perhaps.

“Do you want me to tell you, or do you want me to show you?” he asks, as confidently as he can manage.

Stiles gulps, looking like he’s out of his depth, so Derek’s shocked when he says, “Show me.”

“Okay, come on,” he says, waving Stiles toward the bedroom.

Stiles looks surprised. “What, right now?”

“We don’t have to,” Derek says reassuringly. “You can just let me know when—”

“Now is fine,” Stiles interrupts. “It was just…unexpected.”

He jumps off the couch and brushes past Derek on the way to the bedroom, patting Derek’s chest playfully as he does. When Derek follows, he finds Stiles is already out of his shirt, and is working at his pants.

“Eager, are we?” Derek says teasingly, letting his eyes trace appreciatively over Stiles’ body.

Stiles looks over, but doesn’t even hesitate in pushing down his jeans and underwear and climbing into bed. “Maybe a little,” he admits, grinning.

Derek takes off his shirt and pants, but keeps his boxer-briefs on. He needs a little distance, here.

“All right,” he says, joining Stiles on the bed and handing him some lube. “Slick up your fingers, and we’ll get started.”

“I thought you were going to do it to me,” Stiles says, looking confused.

“I will,” Derek says. “But you need to try it yourself first.”

“Um, okay,” Stiles says, looking a little uncertain.

“You can pretend you’re an omega, if that helps,” Derek says, grinning.

Stiles nudges him, smiling back. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Go ahead and slide a finger inside. Slowly,” Derek warns.

He curls his hand around Stiles’ thigh, tugs gently until Stiles spreads his legs, and Derek can see what he’s doing. He watches Stiles’ tentative motions as he slowly works a finger inside. He doesn’t exactly look impressed when it’s all the way in.

“Okay, now curl your finger up. Be gentle,” Derek says.

Stiles looks at him dubiously, but he does what Derek says. There’s a long moment where Stiles moves his hand around, obviously getting no result, then his whole body suddenly stiffens.

“Oh, what the fuck?” he gasps, and before Derek can say anything, he does it again.

This time his back bows as he arches off the bed, gasping.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he says when he settles back down, eyes wide. “That’s why you like it.”

“One of the reasons,” Derek agrees.

“I thought I was going to come,” Stiles says, sounding like he’s eager for more.

“You will pretty quickly, messing with your prostate like that,” Derek says, amused. “Do you want to keep doing it, or do you want me to try?”

“You,” Stiles says immediately, already pulling his hand away. “You’re the expert, after all,” he adds with a wink.

“Not sure I’d say that,” Derek mumbles, settling between Stiles’ legs. He doesn’t think Stiles realizes he’s never been fucked, at least, not by anything that wasn’t a dildo. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

When he sees Stiles nod, he slips his finger in, smiling when Stiles rocks up into it. He slowly adds a second one, inching it in and gently stretching as he does. He curls them up when they’re all the way inside, and Stiles jolts up with a surprised moan.

“Too much?” Derek asks, releasing the pressure.

“No,” Stiles gasps, bucking his hips into Derek’s hand. “Just took me by surprise. You can, um. You can definitely do it again.”

Derek smirks, but he goes right back to what he was doing. He thrusts his fingers steadily inside, then pauses to gently massage Stiles’ prostate, then goes back to thrusting again.

“I have a dildo, you know,” he says when Stiles begins to squirm, obviously becoming a little overwhelmed. “A nice small one, it would slip right inside. And it might fill you up better.”

“No,” Stiles pants. “Want it to be you. I want it to just be you when I come,” he says, peering hazily at Derek. “But maybe you could add another finger?”

Derek kisses Stiles’ thigh as he does it, slowly adding a third finger inside. It only takes a few more thrusts before Stiles is surging up, coming hard with a gasp. Derek works his hand, milking it, and Stiles shudders through his orgasm for a long time.

Derek waits until Stiles stops trembling, then slides his fingers free. He drags himself up the bed to lay next to Stiles, nuzzling against his neck.

“What about you?” Stiles asks, arm curling around Derek’s back.

“I already came,” Derek says, muffled against Stiles’ skin. He’d tried to hold back, but it had just been too hot.

“Really?” Stiles says, holding him closer. “I was hoping to be able to do something for you.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Derek says, pulling away a little, so he can see Stiles’ face. “I was thinking maybe next time you could fuck me? Knot me?”

“Oh god, I’d love to,” Stiles says, rolling on his side and kissing Derek deeply. “I mean, this was amazing, but I can’t wait to give you what you really want.”

“We’ll get there,” Derek says softly, kissing Stiles again.

It almost feels like things are going too well—the rest of the team (and coach) have been supportive, and his family is just thrilled that he’s dating someone, alpha or not. Lydia and Erica are happy together, and Derek is happy for them. They go on double dates sometimes, and it always gives Derek a good feeling, seeing them together.

He never thought his life could be this good, and he’s almost afraid that he’s been too greedy. Afraid that he wants too much, that he’s pushing too far.

But he’s not. He’s in love with Stiles, and he’s not going to be afraid any more.

When Stiles does finally knot him, it’s just as amazing as Derek thought it would be.

And when Stiles lets Derek knot him, that’s amazing too.

And Derek never needs that dildo ever again.

#sterek #eternalsterek #getting together #fluff #background lydia/erica #ABO dynamics #my fic

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 8 years

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Not Alone

Title: Not Alone Author: RandomWriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 1,371 Event + Prompt: @reigisaweek day two: Soulmates Pairings: reigisa Summary: The only thing Nagisa knows about his soulmate is that they are mysterious.In other words, Nagisa knows nothing about his soulmate and that frustrates him to no end.

Also on: AO3

The only thing Nagisa knows about his soulmate is that they are mysterious.

In other words, Nagisa knows nothing about his soulmate and that frustrates him to no end.

They don’t talk much, at least not to him. Countless times in the day he’ll find himself glancing over at his arms, hoping for something to show up on them, anything, even an accidental pen stroke. But his soulmate must take care not to let anything mar his skin, because every time Nagisa’s search comes up blank.

It isn’t for lack of effort on Nagisa’s part, of course. He’s tried so many things over the years - laying out pen-and-paper games on his hands and doodling hearts around his freckles. Still, his soulmate didn’t reply. He knows that his soulmate is there, that they see his attempts. Once, Nagisa even had to watch as his soulmate scrubbed away a series of meticulously-penned numbers spanning the length of his arm. He didn’t try to give his soulmate his phone number again, after that.

Now, Nagisa loves the idea of soulmates. He’s always loved things which are fated, destined to be. Having friends who all have names which, like his own, are typically given to people of the opposite gender is one example of this. After all, it can’t be a coincidence. It must be fate. And the fact that whatever semi-permanent things he puts on his skin show up on someone else is fate, too. Everyone has been saying it for years. To have such an intrinsic connection must mean something important for their relationship, right?

But when his soulmate doesn’t even try to make contact with him, he can’t help but feel disappointed. It isn’t that he’s being overly pushy, he thinks. He doesn’t mind if his soulmate wants to be friends rather than lovers. But having his soulmate ignore him completely…

It’s worst in middle school, when he feels most alone. Haru and Makoto don’t swim anymore, and Rin hasn’t replied to his letters in over a year. The few friends he made at the swim club in his last year of elementary school go to a different school now, and Nagisa’s parents won’t let him swim anymore.

In class, he finds himself drawing on his arms. A few times he tries to write to his soulmate, and gets no reply. So he sticks to doodling, mostly spirals and stars but sometimes birds and penguins and butterflies. He draws smiley faces on the tips of his fingers and hopes his soulmate thinks he’s happy. Not that they’re worried about him. If they were, they could at least contact him.

By the end of his middle school years, Nagisa is determined to put his past behind him. These days, his arms are ink-free, and he focuses his efforts on persuading his parents to let him attend Iwatobi High, to let him be with his friends again. Thankfully, it works.

When Nagisa finds Haru and Makoto again, it’s still spring, and their arms are covered by black blazers and long-sleeved shirts. There isn’t a mark on either of their hands, though, and Nagisa wonders for a moment if their soulmates are as silent as Nagisa’s is, or if they even have soulmates. As much as he wants it to be, the thought isn’t comforting.

Now, at least, he has the swim club to focus on. Once again he can dive into his passions, and so long as they find a fourth member for their team, they might even rediscover the amazing sights from their past.

That fourth member turns out to be Ryugazaki Rei. He isn’t what Nagisa expects him to be, underneath his protests and beautiful pole-vaulting abilities. When Nagisa finds his way under Rei’s skin, he finds a nerdy, ridiculous boy who might understand Nagisa’s loneliness. Maybe that’s why Nagisa feels an indescribable pull towards him, even after he refuses to join the swim team the first time.

Rei is attractive. Undeniably so. In the summer, Nagisa doesn’t shy away from admiring his toned arms, the smooth sweep of skin from forearm to fingertips, unmarked. Part of Nagisa, an irrational beast he tries to ignore, hopes that if something managed to mark Rei’s skin, it would appear on Nagisa, too.

Then he casts those thoughts away, because that would mean Rei’s been ignoring him for years and that would be unbearable in itself.

Somehow, he makes it all the way to his second year at Iwatobi High without any contact with his soulmate, and without seeing any contact on Rei’s skin, either. Nagisa is starting to wonder, at this point, if his entire friendship group is fated to have silent soulmates. But then he remembers the sprawling conversations on Rin’s arms and the doodles curling around Gou’s wrists, and realises it might be their luck, or lack of it.

It’s only after their summer break, when the smell of chlorine on their skin has died down and competition season is past its end, when it finally happens. In all respects, the class itself is less than interesting. Nagisa struggles to concentrate through it. Still, he manages to make semi-clear notes, then jots down a note-to-self on the back of his hand without thinking much of it. Ask Rei-chan to borrow his notes later!!

He hears an intake of breath from the seat in front of him.

Looking up, Nagisa sees Rei looking down at his hand, his pen abandoned on top of his workbook. He can’t make out what about it he’s so surprised by, but he can make a guess.

If Rei got a message from his soulmate at the same time as Nagisa wrote that note, though, then there’s a possibility…

Too invested in this to pay attention to whatever the teacher’s saying, he raises his pen to the back of his neck, trying to look like he’s scratching an itch as he lets the pen glide over the nape of his neck.

In front of his eyes, unhidden by his prim posture, a line forms on the back of Rei’s neck.

This time, Nagisa gasps.

When he catches himself, he notices Rei writing something down and looks back to his notes, mind still circling with the idea that Rei is actually his soulmate. Then he sees his hand.

Beside his earlier note-to-self are words in a neat, slanted script which Nagisa definitely didn't write, especially since he can’t pull off such neat handwriting.

Shouldn’t you be taking your own notes?

The teacher dismisses the class, which erupts in noise around them, chairs scraping against the linoleum floor and voices chattering loudly. Still, Nagisa knows Rei hears his reply when his already straight back stiffens.

“I did take my own notes.”

A moment passes before Rei turns to face him, eyes sticking firmly to Nagisa’s face rather than his hands. “Then why do you want to borrow my notes?”

Part of Nagisa can’t believe Rei isn’t making more of this event, or even that he himself is being so calm about it. It’s such a momentous shift in their dynamic, and yet it’s not unwelcome, at least not to Nagisa.

“Rei-chan,” he says, mostly a breath. Then he smiles to himself. “You’ve got something on your face.”

“Have I?” Rei’s eyes widen and he raises a hand to his face, the one with the writing on it, Nagisa’s writing.

“Let me get it,” Nagisa says, leaning forward. Somehow, Rei doesn’t notice the pen in his hand until it touches his cheek, penning a quick heart on his cheekbone.

“Nagisa-kun,” Rei says, half annoyed, but Nagisa notices the way his eyes brighten seeing the heart copy itself onto Nagisa’s cheek.

Leaning back, Nagisa laughs, his joy finally spilling from him. “Well, there’s something there now!”

Despite himself, Rei’s lips curl into a smile too.

Later, Nagisa will interrogate Rei about why he didn’t respond to Nagisa for all these years. They’ll finally talk about what they want to be to each other. But for now, they find joy in the fact that, for the first time in their lives, neither of them feel so alone anymore.

#reigisaweek #reigisa week #reigisa #free!#fanfiction #free! fanfiction #did someone say soulmate aus bc i am here for this #still kind of introspective but also not yay #i'm not the happiest w/ the title but titling things is hard okay #also the font on my browser has changed and it's really messing me up #i can't tell what's bold and what's not i'm sorry #edit: i've fixed the formatting finally

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808lionfire · 8 years

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A Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir Fanfic

Another Note for the List

Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug. It probably wouldn't be as popular if I did.

Overview: Rated T for that one subtle, inappropriate joke. Can either be in the canon 'verse or a Modern!AU (up to you, honestly). Aged up. Technically.

Summary: Just a story thing to get a feel for these characters, so read at your own risk. Nothing major though. There's fluff and a subtle sort of a short-running, inappropriate joke. Like I said: nothing major.

Pairing(s): Adrien/Marinette, Nino/Alya

Word Count: ~3.5K

A/N: Like I said in the summary, this fic is just a tester to see how far I'll be able to take these characters' personalities while still remaining relatively canon. I want to see how much breathing room I have with them before actually dedicating my time on a full length story. I like to stay as true to them as I can, otherwise I'd just lose motivation.

FanFiction || AO3

Another Note for the List

Adrien knew, even from the first time he laid eyes on her, that Marinette was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

He may be a little biased, but only because they definitely did not start on equal terms. In fact, Adrien had experienced—first-hand—the intensity that her tiny stature hoarded. Namely what Alya and Nino would call the gum incident. And as unintentional as the circumstances of their first meeting had been, he quickly vowed to never do anything that made her that mad ever again. Unintentional or no. An angry Marinette was definitely not someone he wanted to meet in a dark alley.

On one hand, she forgave him for the incident once he apologized. On the other hand, she wasn't able to form a coherent sentence around him for a long time afterward.

At first, Adrien thought the blushing and stuttering was adorable. She flushed the most brilliant pink every time he glanced at her, and hid behind Alya every time they (accidentally) crossed paths during lunch break. He assumed that she was still embarrassed by how quick she was to jump to conclusions before (which he definitely didn't blame her for, honestly), but then a week passed. Then two. And when a month came and went, the fond amusement at her quick retreats turned into anxious concern.

He had absolutely no idea why she seemed so skittish around him. And it was only around him. Adrien probably once fooled himself into thinking that she was just a naturally shy person, but her personality always did an entire one-eighty when she didn't notice him looking.

Coupled with her being a reckoning force, Marinette was a confidant. And not just because she was the class president. She was always accompanied by someone, whether it be Alya, Nino on occasion, or just a random member of their class. They'd always be in close proximity, as if sharing secrets that no one else around them could ever dream to figure out.

With Alya, they'd be rapidly talking about random things, bouncing from topic to topic so quickly that Adrien couldn't even hope to follow. Sometimes he would see her stare bravely up at Kim when he was being particularly competitive. She and Max would occasionally enter a heated debate about some character in some game. She babbled occasionally with Rose while Juleka listened off to the side with a smile on her face. Even Nathanaël, when the red-head was approached by the bubbly half-Asian, curled over his sketchbook and exchanged whispered tips and snickered over something or the other.

Eventually, everything that Marinette was had been just too complex to ponder, so Adrien started to note everything Marinette was not.

Shy? She was not, apparently. If the way she effortlessly flittered from person to person was anything to go by. Reserved? No, most definitely not. Her entire person had always thrummed with energy and she was not afraid to show it. Quiet? That would be the biggest and probably the most amused no that he would ever give in his entire life. Adrien was half-convinced that she had no volume setting whatsoever. Her conversations were always expressive, bubbly, and not at all quiet. Sure, she had her moments where she could giggle and whisper, but she was primarily loud and easily startled.

Normally, Adrien would frown because she had rarely ever been loud and expressive whenever he was in talking distance.

He wanted to experience what their classmates experienced, she was one of his first friends after all. It wasn't all bad, however. Thankfully, talking distance wasn't hearing distance. So whenever he was left feeling particularly down in the dumps from another one-sidedly coherent conversation with the half-Asian, he'd hear a completely disarming sound chime from her. It wasn't always influenced by him, but she always lifted his spirits just a little more when she laughed.

It wasn't much to be happy about (especially since he wasn't a direct cause of it), but the thing about her mirthful noises were that when Marinette laughed, she guffawed. No holds. No barriers. No reservations. Admittedly, he was startled the first time he heard her laugh from talking distance. The loud, happy sound from the skittish bluenette had been delivered with no hesitation. And right in front of him, to boot.

It took enough bruising nudges from Nino and nearly tripping up the stairs into collège for him to snap out of the startling hold her laughter trapped him in. It was absolutely mortifying.

Even more mortifying, though, was that Marinette saw his little stumble on the last step and stared a good minute at him, looking just as startled as he had been a moment prior. They stood, staring at each other with wide eyes, then she did it. She snorted, quickly dissolving into the same guffaws that sent him spiraling earlier. It was embarrassing to say the least, but better because he was the direct cause of that laugh. It took him looking an utter fool, of course, but she quickly warmed up to him after that.

She stuttered (that time it was because of her laughter, thankfully) out an apology but was unable to to say anything else because the bell shattered the moment. Alya shot him an amused look before taking Marinette's arm and dragged the giggly half-Asian to their class. Nino clapped his back, the meaning behind the gesture was completely lost on the blonde, before tilting his head towards the school and shrugged a shoulder.

It kinda just got better after that.

Every so often during his first class, he could hear giggles behind his back and after making sure the teacher wasn't looking, he turned to look. Marinette's blue eyes were shining as she stared back at him, her face flushing as she quietly slapped a hand over her mouth to smother her laugh. He was aware that his cheeks flushed as sent her a small smile, only letting the quirk of his lips grown when he turned back around.

Of course, her transition to him wasn't all smooth sailing. It wouldn't have been another two months until she could actually hold a lengthy conversation with minimal stuttering, and another handful before she was anywhere near comfortable enough to just cruise around the town with him for the rest of the evening when Alya and Nino suddenly disappeared from another one their group outings. Once she got over her initial hesitance, they—along with Nino and Alya—created a bunch of memories that would never leave him.

One of his favorite moments was during their première of Lycée when she and her family extended him an invitation to celebrate on a particularly lonely Christmas Eve.

He only planned to drop off the presents for Marinette and her parents and leave afterwards. He had already gave Nino his present and left Alya's along with the dark-haired DJ, seeing as the pair were going to spend Christmas together; their first one spent as an official couple. After an extended fencing lesson, Adrien was feeling drained and all he wanted to do was wish the Dupain-Cheng family a Merry Christmas, drive home, and kick his feet up.

Despite that, he found it quite hard not to be pulled in by the boulangerie's warm atmosphere and heady scents. He found it exponentially more difficult when Marinette beamed so brightly at him from behind the cash register. The empty mansion he wanted to return to before seemed less and less appealing when she bounded around the counter to greet him heartily, announcing his presence to her parents as she daintily dodged the presents in his arms to pull him into a hug with warmth that rivaled (and beat) the bakery's.

He desperately wanted to prolong the hug, but his arms were too full of wrapped boxes to return it and the joyful greetings from the backroom drew Marinette back at a safe, platonic distance.

"Feel free to stay over, son. It's Christmas Eve after all," Marinette's father, Tom, had offered after he emerged from the back, clapping him jovially on the back. "Hope you don't mind, but it's a Dupain-Cheng tradition to pass out on the couch after one too many cups of eggnog."

"It's a Dupain tradition, actually," Tom's other half, Sabine, joked after she joined them and naturally gravitated under her husband's arm, patting the large man's stomach lovingly. "We Chengs are very empathetic people and we don't want to leave him all by himself on the couch, so we end up falling asleep next to each other in order to keep Tom comfortable."

Marinette had nudged his arm then, a playful smirk on her lips as her bluebell eyes sparkled mischievously up at him. "In other words," she started, a joking jab already forming, "Dad's just too heavy for me and Mom to lift on our own, so we give up before trying. It's pretty much a habit at this point."

Adrien remembered Tom shooting her a playfully affronted look. "But isn't that what a tradition is?"

The four shared a laugh, the atmosphere warming enough to plant smiles on the last batch of holiday patrons. Shortly after, Tom announced that he needed to finish a few customers before closing up the shop for the day. He enlisted Adrien's help before the model had a chance to open his mouth. He, of course, agreed and then started to protest when the two Dupain-Cheng women started confiscating the gifts in his arms.

Sabine just waved off his efforts to take the presents back, a laugh following her as she started towards the back. Once she was gone, Adrien immediately turned to Marinette and tried to convince her. Much like her mother, however, the bubbly half-Asian merely laughed and expertly dodged his advances, smiling cheekily at his grumpy look. She playfully bumped their hips before skipping into the side door that led up to the house. Tom only chuckled and patted Adrien's shoulder before assigning him to the register.

Together, the two men made quick work of satisfying the boulangerie's customers and packed the leftover goods into containers. Tom let him flip the sign (a real treat for Adrien, honestly) while he started helping a few workers from a local shelter load the boxes into a pickup truck.

Reassured that Tom had enough help moving the leftovers, he started up to the house. He could hear the holiday music pounding from inside before he even opened the door and couldn't contain the smile that stretched across his lips when he opened the door. What he found was just another thing to add on Marinette's not list.

A dancer? She definitely was not. What made it better though was the mortified blush that steamed her face when she caught him watching and– ah, cue the stuttering. He was starting to miss it, honestly. Unlike before, however, Marinette didn't shy or attempt to run away. Instead, she pouted at him and clicked her tongue, daring him to do any better.

Adrien only grinned at the challenge and strode over to her. He took the remote—that she was using as a microphone—from her fingers and changed the song. She rose an eyebrow at him when he chuckled the remote over his shoulder, knowing for a fact that it bounced harmlessly onto the sofa, and bowed to her with a hand held out invitingly. He doesn't remember exactly what he said, but it was stupid enough to make her laugh and grasp her hand in hers.

He could easily the cute squeal she made when he pulled her up to him, lifting her off the ground so they were eye-level. The intensity in her glare was lost beneath the harshness of her blush and Adrien only laughed before he twirled them dramatically around the living room.

That's how Tom and Sabine found them, dancing and giggling like idiots as 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus' of all songs played in the background. The couple soon joined in soon afterwards with Tom holding Sabine much like how Adrien was holding Marinette. The four started snickering on every pass of each other. Just to keep the ridiculous mood, Tom kept the song on repeat until empty stomachs started to protest. They finished the night with a huge Christmas feast and some eggnog while relaxing into some cliché, B-rated Christmas movie.

Adrien wasn't sure if Tom meant he could stay overnight, or if he meant just for dinner, but he woke up the next morning on the ground, pressed up against the couch with the back of a hand dangling from on the couch pressed up against his face. He could smell breakfast cooking and failed to notice the lack of Tom and Sabine's presence in the living room as he sat up, too focused on the face that was smooshed into the couch cushions.

He chuckled at the sight. Another note for the list: Marinette was not a graceful sleeper. But he found that much more endearing than he should've. It was then when he started to wonder if there were anything that she did that he didn't find ridiculously adorable.

After noticing him awake, Sabine treated him to a breakfast that would've left his dietitian in a stupor while Tom jokingly said that he was going to 'wake the beast'. Adrien was puzzled for a split second but then roared out a laugh not even a second when he heard Marinette's loud, disturbed growl (that did, in fact, sound very much like a beast, much to Adrien's amusement) when Tom started belting 'O Holy Night' it the most off-key tone that he could.

Marinette looked surprised for a split second when she stormed into the kitchen, scowling soon after when he playfully called her a grumpy bug. She shot him a sharp look and called him a skittish kitty, no doubt referring to that one time he screamed during a scary movie marathon at Nino's.

Needless to say, it was a very eventful Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Between the vision of a very grumpy Marinette pouting her way to the kitchen table and the gifts they surprised surprised him with when Marinette pulled out them from behind the tree with a dramatic tah-dah, it was one of his better Christmases in a very long time.

"...ton? Chaton? Adrien, honestly. ADRIEN!"

Adrien yelped in surprise, his head hitting the trunk door of his SUV. There was an exasperated sigh and two different pairs of snickers when he crouched low to the ground, holding the top of his head while hissing in pain. Slender fingers were slipping under his a moment later, gently shooing his hands away while another joined the first, assessing the damage.

"Dude," came the familiar voice of Nino, amused like always. "You actually did sound like a cat. I now understand the nickname."

"A little late, babe," Alya laughed, "she had been calling him that since Lycée."

"I knew about the kitty cuddling and extreme laziness," Nino defended himself and ignored the protesting whine from the man in question, "but I never heard him sound like a cat. Tell me, my man, has Mari ever made you purr?"

"Babe."

"What? It's just a question!"

"A really stupid one!"

"Oh, right," Nino said in a knowing tone, no doubt nodding to the line of thought only he followed. "Of course she has. That's not even a question."

Adrien heard something that sounded very like a slap echoed through the air, quickly followed by a 'manly' yelp that was more surprised than hurt. He wanted to roll his eyes when the couple started to bicker but was distracted by the gentle fingers that wove through his hair, drawing out a content sigh despite his throbbing brain. He lifted his head and peered up in the concern blues.

"Are you alright, mon minou?" Marinette asked, letting him take one of her hands to press against his lips.

"I'm fine, bugaboo," Adrien smiled and straightened out from his crumpled position, towering a good head above her but bent forward too keep her hands tangled in his hair. He shot her a flirty smirk and all but purred. "Much better now that I have your concern, ma lady, but maybe I'd feel even better if you could check again so I won't have to fear for my poor head?"

"No need for that," Marinette rolled her eyes and pulled her hands away, ignoring his protesting pout. "If you have enough energy to flirt, kitty, you're perfectly fine."

"Meow-ch!" Adrien exclaimed theatrically, holding a hand over his heart and placing the back of the other on his forehead. "But, purr-incess! If you don't check over your lowly knight, we might have to call the paw-amedics!"

Marinette blinked twice at him before she shook her head, snatched a decently sized box from the back of the car, and walked away. "Three puns, Adrien. You definitely cleared inspection."

"What a catastrophe!" Adrien fell back into the trunk, his back landing on a pile of rolled up carpets. "Quick! Someone cat-call the paw-lice! It's an e-mew-gency!" He gasped dramatically. "A cruel, cruel princess broke a poor kitty's heart!"

"Hey, Mari," came Alya's interjection, "maybe we should call call him in."

Adrien sat up and was about to thank the woman's kind heart for a broken kitty, but–

"He's obviously delirious from hitting his head so hard earlier. How do you even deal with that?"

"Hey!" The blonde model protested, shooting her an affronted look. He ignored the smirk Alya shot him in reply and turned to Marinette—his savior—only for his pleading expression to drop when he saw the look of extreme contemplation on the woman's face. "Mar?"

Her bluebell eyes rolled to him and he tensed, only relaxing when she sent him an affectionate smile and a playful wink. "With a lot of love, obviously."

A bright smile slid onto Adrien's face, a warm tingling traveling through him at her gaze alone. "Love you too, bugaboo."

"You two are disgusting," Nino groaned when Adrien caught the kiss Marinette flirtingly blew to him and pressed it against his chest. Nino turned to Alya with an exasperated look. "We weren't like that, were we?"

"For about a week," Alya admitted with a shrug, resting her elbow on her boyfriend's shoulder and snickering at his distressed moan. "But keep in mind that these two dorks started dating each since our last year in Lycée and they're still like this."

"Might as well get used to it," Marinette smirked, picking up another box with Adrien's help and placing it on the sidewalk. "Green really isn't a good look on you two."

"Take it from Mari," the model laughed, pulling a particularly heavy box from the back of the truck and setting it right next to the one they just put down, "she's the professional designer after all. Besides, after we move all of this inside, we're officially your new neighbors!"

"Oh, joy," came Alya's sarcastic reply, a playful smirk on her face.

"Hope you like the neighborhood, man!" Nino greeted with a cheerful clap to Adrien's back, pointing to one if the windows on the third floor. "I heard that apartment has a really awesome DJ. I really hope he doesn't wake up guys up in the middle of the night with his sick beats."

"Ohh," Marinette's voice came in knowingly, a joking smile on her lips as she shot him a mischievous look. "So that's what the earplugs were for! Thank's Alya!"

Nino swiveled his head towards his girlfriend. "Babe!"

Alya held up her hands innocently. "I bought us each a pair too! And who knows? We might need it when Mari ever decides to make Adrien purr."

Immediately following that comment was a loud, undignified snort from the girl in question. Soon enough, the four friends found themselves dissolving into fits of laughter.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #my first official contribution to my ever growing trash bin #named after me of course

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