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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 5 years

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Every Breath You Take - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki has been stalking you for weeks, and you have no idea why. One night, he decides to claim what is his.

Characters: Loki x female reader

Words: ~6300

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit language, stalking, dub-con and/or non-con smut (depending where you draw the line between those), breaking and entering, choking/breath play, fear kink, power dynamics, humiliation, praise kink, basically Loki being a dominant mother fucker

Author’s Note: Major song inspiration for this is “Every Breath You Take” by Devil + Winter. Yes, I know it’s a remake of an older song, but I looove that specific cover so much.

This might officially be my favorite oneshot I’ve written thus far, so I hope y’all enjoy!

Every Breath You Take

Glancing at the clock, you puffed out a breath at the late hour. It might be Friday, but you had refused to leave the office until all weekly projects were completed by their deadline, as well as a few extras that you wanted to finish ahead of schedule. You had snagged a government job, and there was no way in hell that you were going to slack off or cause anyone to second guess whether you were the most qualified choice.

Sending off an email to your supervisor with the attached completed work, you gave a triumphant grin before logging out of the computer system, grabbing your purse, and hightailing it for the elevators. Thoughts of a long, hot bath followed by curling up on the couch with delivery pizza and a sappy movie were beckoning, and after a week full of working early mornings and even later evenings, you deserved it.

Exiting the elevator and crossing the lobby, you waved and said goodnight to the evening security guard. He was unsurprised to see you leaving so late and wished you a good weekend. The sun had set hours ago, but the street was still semi-lit from the city lights, sections of darkness broken by circles of lamp light, car headlights, and the muted glow of lit windows.

And yet, he still managed to hide within the shadows.

You wouldn’t have even noticed, if it weren’t for the fact that he had been an unfailing constant lately. Each time you exited the office, even if it was just to run down the street to the nearest food truck, he was there. Standing right across the street from your work building, intense stare fixed in your direction, tonight was no exception.

The first time it had happened, you had been sure you were hallucinating. Especially because no one else seemed to notice the tall figure, pedestrians passing by with no acknowledgement. It was as if he didn’t allow anyone to see him. Just you.

Habit made you glance across the street again, and sure enough, the shadowed outline of his lean form was still waiting between the patches of light. It was as if he had molded them to his own benefit, wrapping the night around himself so that only the inhuman flicker of his eyes glinted at you out of the darkness.

Loki, the God of Mischief, had been silently stalking you for weeks. And you had absolutely no idea why.

Starting down the street, you felt his presence as a prickle on the back of your neck. He was there as you walked a block over to the bus stop, and it was only when you were safely on board and in a seat that the sensation disappeared. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, knowing he was gone. The reprieve was short-lived, since you also knew that he’d already be there when you got home.

Sure enough, once the bus exited the city and stopped near your block, the sensation of being followed returned. You walked quickly up the front path of your suburban home, hands shaking slightly as they fit the key into the front door. He never came too close, never followed you across the threshold, but the idea that he could made your mouth run dry. Once you were inside with the door closed and deadbolted, you went around double checking all the windows and the back door. Yep, still locked.

Peeking out between the blinds in the living room, your eyes scanned the moonlit yard, looking for movement. You didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there, lurking. For the millionth time you contemplated reporting him, but also for the millionth time you had no idea who exactly to tell. It wasn’t like you were highly-ranked enough to have Mr. Fury or the Avengers on speed dial. And the police would think you were having a mental break, since it seemed as though Loki could cloak himself from being noticed, even when in the middle of a crowd.

You had just started working for S.H.I.E.L.D a couple of months ago, as a low-level data interpreter. To say you were at the bottom of the totem pole was accurate, but you were prepared to work hard to elevate yourself within the organization. Sure, you’d never be an actual agent or spy, but there were upper level positions within your department that would one day have your name on them. You weren’t about to jeopardize those possibilities by creating waves while still in your probationary period, especially since you doubted your by-the-book, no-nonsense supervisor would do anything other than laugh in your face if you tried to tell him that a friggin god had chosen to follow you around. Hell, even your own family would probably assume you were overworked and delusional.

Which meant that you were stuck dealing with the issue of Loki yourself...and so far your grand master plan had been trying to ignore him in the fervent hopes that he would get bored and leave you alone.

Though he was impossible to totally ignore, you had made some progress with not lying in bed awake all night, staring at the ceiling and fearing the moment he’d decide to come inside the house. You still did this for about half of the night, but hey, progress. When he had shown no interest in crossing that boundary, you wondered if you were supposed to feel more terrified at his lack of intent, or safe with the knowledge that he was lurking around the house like your own personal security system.

And while you had at first been too scared to leave the office for lunch knowing he was out there, after a week of huddling in your cubicle you had been furious with yourself. It had been a piss-poor day anyways, and you had barely made it to an 8am meeting on time thanks to forgetting to set your alarm the night before (probably because you had been too busy stressing over the god lurking outside). Deciding that enough was enough, you had walked outside with head held high, ready to march down the street to the nearby deli. He had been there, of course he had, piercing gaze immediately zeroed in on you the moment you exited the building’s doors.

Lack of sleep and frustration making you feel bold, you had actually stopped and glared black at him. It was the first time you had been assertive enough to acknowledge him without any visible fear, and you were damn proud of yourself.

That pride had quickly turned to ash when the corners of his mouth curved slowly upwards, lips parting to showcase a sadistic smirk that caused your heart to drop into your ass, legs doing a 180 and practically sprinting you back into the building. Turns out you hadn’t been that hungry, after all. You had left the office for lunch a few times since then, but always kept your eyes pointed down at the sidewalk, never daring to nonverbally challenge him again.

Now, after checking for the umpteenth time that all the blinds were closed, you went through with your evening plans, the hot bath relaxing tense muscles and greasy pizza filling your soul as much as your stomach. And when you crawled into bed a few hours later and drifted off to sleep, you almost forgot about the powerful god who was stalking your every move. Almost…

~ ~ ~

Startling awake a few hours later, you sat up in bed and grabbed for the bedside lamp, flicking it on. Eyes squinting at the sudden brightness, you scanned the room with a pounding heart, relief washing over you at seeing that the corners were empty. It was just a dream, you soothed. It wasn’t real…

Said dream had been filled with flashing green eyes, lips twisted into a cruel grin, and a large, powerful form pinning you to the bed.

Licking bone-dry lips, you got out of bed and headed down to the kitchen for a glass of water. You didn’t turn on any other lights, both because you knew the layout of the house well enough to navigate it in the dark, and in hopes that your movement wouldn’t alert a certain visitor who might still be in the vicinity.

The microwave clock showed that it was a little after 3am, which meant you had only gotten a couple hours of sleep before the raven-haired god had once again disrupted your life. There were enough windows with moonlight streaming in through the blinds that you had no trouble navigating the kitchen. Not wanting to open the fridge and risk him seeing the light, you grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and went over to the sink, glancing out the small window above it but seeing only an empty yard.

The glass was half full when you felt every hair on your body stand up in warning. All those blinds had been shut earlier. You had checked them multiple times before going to bed. Your eyes flew back up, breath catching in your throat at the sight. Only seconds ago the view of the yard had been empty, but now…

Loki was standing mere feet away, on the other side of the glass. Moonlight lit up his features, the pale unblemished skin giving off an eerie glow as his emerald eyes burned into you through what, suddenly, felt like a pathetic excuse of a barrier. Shock and fear made your suddenly shaky fingers loosen their grip on the fragile water glass, causing it to fall into the sink and shatter. The noise was like a gunshot to your frozen state; you jumped and screamed in alarm before realizing the sound wasn’t from the window. Eyes jerked down to the sink, where pieces of glass lay scattered and sparkling in the dim moonlight. When you looked back up again, Loki was gone.

Suddenly, a wave of anger flowed through you, heating your blood and overtaking the fear long enough for you to make what, looking back, was a really fucking stupid decision.

You were so done with his shit, done with living in constant hypervigilance and fear because some god had decided to play with you like a bug in a jar. Without allowing yourself to fully process the stupidity of what you were about to do, you went over to the back door, opened it, and stormed out onto the porch.

Breath puffing with adrenaline, you glanced to your right, where Loki had previously been standing. Instead, there was only empty air. This served to piss you off more, as it was obvious that he was just toying with you. Well, you were done with the games.

“Listen up, asshole!” you shrieked at the empty yard. “I don’t know what your problem is, but-” you cut off abruptly as logic finally caught up to anger. Your brain was frantically waving a big, red ‘this is a really stupid idea’ sign and telling you to get back inside.

The flames of rage quickly fizzled out, replaced by an icy wave of fear when the asshole in question suddenly appeared in the middle of the yard, seemingly out of thin air. He stood silent and still as the night, all-black Asgardian clothing molded to his tall and proud form so that he blended in with the shadows.

You felt, more than saw, his eyes trail slowly down over your body, expression unreadable in the dim moonlight. You were suddenly very aware that you were only wearing a lavender tank top and grey sleep shorts, bare toes curling against the cool wood of the porch. The sheer vulnerability of your situation kicked-started the flight response, and you took a slow step backwards, not wanting to lose sight of what your survival instinct classified as a wild and unpredictable predator.

The plan failed instantly when Loki burst forward, black cape fluttering out around his form as he strode across the yard. You weren’t sure if he looked more like a fallen angel or avenging demon, but the effect was enough to jolt your body into motion as you turned and sprinted for the still-open back door.

Crossing the threshold, you felt a small spark of relief, thinking how he never came inside, that you just needed to get the door closed and…

He hit the wood with such force that you were thrown into the kitchen, stumbling back against the opposite wall when he stepped inside. His gaze zeroed in on you as he lifted one booted foot and kicked the door shut.

The loud slam made you jump, vocal cords suddenly coming back online as you opened your mouth to scream. He moved so fast that you didn’t even have time to consider fleeing, his hand cutting off the scream before it even left your throat. He slammed you into the wall, his palm so large that it covered the entire bottom half of your face and effectively cut off your oxygen. His other arm caged you in, palm flat against the wall right beside your head, making you feel utterly trapped. Eyes widening with terror, you clawed at his hand, fighting to breathe. You might as well have been an insect trying to stop an incoming shoe with all the difference your struggles made.

“You will be silent. Attempt to scream again, and I will choke the life out of you. Understood?”

His low, dark voice made you shiver with fear, but you were so desperate for air that you would agree to almost anything at this point, and so nodded frantically up at him. His eyes narrowed for a few moments, as if assessing your reliability, before sliding his hand down so that it lightly encircled your throat and anchored you to the wall.

Gasping in blessed oxygen, you panted up at him with heaving breaths, eyes shifting back and forth as you tried, and failed, to come up with an escape plan. If you thought he had been intimidating from a distance these past few weeks, it was nothing compared to the vision of him up close. He practically buzzed with power as his lean, muscular frame towered over you, the ebony-clad chest and shoulders blocking any view of the kitchen and back door. The fingers at your throat flexed slightly in silent warning, as if he could read your thoughts and was reminding you that escape was futile.

You looked up at him, still in shock and trying to process the fact that a literal god was in your kitchen. And not just any god, but one who had terrorized your city, made a crowd kneel at his feet, and declared his intent to rule the planet. His arrogance was legendary, his powers terrifying. And you were so, so fucked.

Glancing up, you took in his face, semi-shadowed in the moonlit kitchen. Flawless porcelain skin showcased features sharp enough to cut glass, your eyes scanning over his sternly clenched jaw and lips pressed into a tight grimace. They gave off a coldness that sent a shiver down your spine, but then you looked up past his straight, regal nose and found the blazing heat of his gaze. He was watching you intently, those cruel lips curving up the slightest bit at your obvious perusal.

Horrified to have been caught staring, your eyes quickly lowered, taking in the expensive fabric that covered his tall, powerful body. You felt him bend down, every muscle tensed in fearful anticipation when his face stopped right beside your own. You could practically feel the effort he made to reign in his strength, the capability for violence coiled tightly right below the surface of his skin. Still too scared to lift your eyes, you heard as he slowly inhaled through his nose before exhaling through his mouth, so that warm breath ghosted over the side of your neck and caused goosebumps to erupt across your flesh.

Holy crap, had he just sniffed you?!

He gave a dark chuckle at the noticeable shudder that ran through your body in response to his actions. The hand at your throat moved up to tightly grip your chin, tipping it upwards until your eyes fluttered up as well and were ensnared by his gaze.

He was taking you in, noting your eyes dilated with fear and mouth slightly parted as your chest heaved to take in panicked breaths. He seemed to catalog all of your reactions with a piercing intelligence, as if storing away the knowledge for later.

“Do you fear me, human?”

The low, rumbled words shouldn’t have been enticing, but you’d be lying to deny the stirring low in your gut that resulted from his voice whispering in your ear. It actually took a few seconds for the question itself to filter through your brain. Unable to nod with his fingers still gripping your chin, you instead gave a soft, breathy, “Yes,” which caused him to smirk.

“Good girl.”

Okay, now that definitely caused a reaction, your body heating up at the mixture of fear and praise he provided. Dear god, what is wrong with you?! Scream, fight, do something!

As if he could read the thoughts in your gaze, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Ah ah, little one. You’re not getting away until I allow it.”

Attempting one last ounce of bravery, you asked in a pleading voice, “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes lit up, as if he were impressed that you dared to question his motives. The fingers at your chin loosened slightly, his eyes watching as he moved a thumb slowly back and forth across your lower lip.

“This planet is exceedingly uninspiring, and I have found humans to be particularly boring. So I had to obtain entertainment in one form or another, didn’t I?”

Well that sure wasn’t the answer you had been expecting. All the weeks of following you around, scaring you to within an inch of your life as you tried to figure out what reasons he had for singling you out, and it was all because he was bored?

You were grateful to feel a spark of anger return at his callous response and utter disregard for what he had put you through these past weeks. Looking back later, you’d think that he had verbally poked at you on purpose, had wanted you to showcase a bit more fight to add to his entertainment of the situation.

Through gritted teeth, you said, “If we’re so boring, then why waste your time following me around?”

His fingers trailed back down over your throat, and for a moment you thought that your words had been a fatal mistake, that this was when he decided you weren’t worth the trouble and strangled you. Instead, his fingers flitted over the pulse in your neck, pausing there as if to measure its beating, before gliding further down and across your delicate collarbone.

“I said humans were boring.” The tips of his long, cool fingers slid underneath the right strap of your tank top, pushing it towards your shoulder. “I didn’t say that you were boring.”

Shocked into silence, you felt the fabric being dragged down over your arm, the neckline lowering with it so that the top swells of your breasts were visible. You felt like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s crosshairs, too scared to move outside the involuntary trembling that started in your knees and traveled up the length of your legs and torso.

“Please,” you whispered, staring up at him helplessly, beseeching him to let you go. Wanting this to all just be a dream in which he would suddenly disappear and you would wake up in your warm bed.

“Begging already?” he taunted. “But we’ve barely begun.”

With that, he grabbed the neckline of the tank top and yanked, the fabric no match for his inhuman strength as he literally tore it from your body. The cool air hitting your bare nipples was what thrust you into action, as you reached up to shove against his shoulders with all your might, hoping to make him stumble back long enough so that you could dart to the side and make a run for it.

Instead, you might as well have pushed against a stone wall, even the adrenaline-laced strength not making him retreat so much as an inch. The only reaction your action caused was him to huff out a dark laugh of amusement before he flung the tatters of the tank top to the side and leered down at your exposed flesh.

You watched, wide-eyed, as a large and surprisingly warm palm cupped your breast, testing the weight of it. The whimper that left your throat was purely out of fear, you told yourself, and had nothing to do with the sensation of him pinching your nipple between two of those slender and graceful, yet powerfully masculine, fingers.

“What delightful noises you make, pet. I’m eager to learn how many others I can wring from your lips.”

Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. The whole situation was too surreal, too overwhelming. Your brain couldn’t compute all the mixed signals it was getting from the rest of your body. Thighs trembled with fear and the desire to run, but your traitorous nipples were hard as stone, and not just from the chilly air.

Loki noticed as well, of course he did. He was a master of lies, and of reading them in others, so there was no way your body was going to fool him. A pleased look lit up his eyes, and the emerald blaze was too much, causing your own to squeeze tightly shut when he leaned in close.

The words were whispered from mere inches away, and they brought with them a pang of arousal that shocked you to the core. “Don’t fight it, girl. You were made to be ruled, to be owned. And I’m going to make you mine.”

You gave a little sob in response, but didn’t argue, didn’t struggle. Not even when the hand at your breast continued its pleasurable torment while his other hand left the wall to trail down over your ribs and waist until it met the top of your sleep shorts. The tips of his fingers hooked inside the fabric, and with one graceful movement he shoved both shorts and panties down over your hips, so that they fell in a pile at your feet and left your body completely bare.

“Step out of them,” he commanded, fingers dancing softly along your hip bone.

Frozen with indecision, your breath came in audible gasps as the mixture of fear, anxiety, and burgeoning desire made your head spin. The headstrong and independent mentality that was so self-ingrained insisted that you fight him to the very end. But there was another part of you, a hidden and previously unknown part, that wanted to do as he said. Wanted to give in and submit.

Before you could find out which side would win, the hand at your breasts leapt back up to your throat, the movement so quick that you barely had time to register it before your oxygen was cut off. Eyes flew back open in panic, but before you could even attempt to struggle, the long fingers of his other hand caught and held your wrists tightly together, effectively trapping you once again.

His face lowered directly in front of your own, his straight, white teeth bared as he snarled, “I said step. Out. Of. Them.”

At this point, you’d do just about anything he asked if it meant being able to breathe, and so obediently lifted first one foot and then the other out of the shorts and underwear. He used his own booted foot to shove the fabric so that it slid across the floor off to the side, but didn’t yet let up his grip on your throat.

Your vision was growing spotty from lack of oxygen as you choked and squirmed in his grip. He looked delighted at this, his gaze dropping down to watch your body’s involuntary twists and jerks before lifting back to your face.

“You’re a willful little human, I’ll give you that. But from now on, when I give an order, I expect you to obey. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded desperately, and when that didn’t seem to satisfy him, sputtered out a barely audible, “Yes”.

“Sorry, pet, I didn’t quite catch that. Try again.”

Certain you were about to pass out, you put all remaining energy into gurgling out another attempt of the word. It must’ve been enough, because he whispered ‘good girl’ at the same time his grip loosened, allowing you to cough and gag as your lungs frantically filled with air.

His hand stayed in place this time, splayed across your throat in silent warning, as his other palm released your wrists, coasted down the front of your body and, without any hesitation, delved between your thighs. When you tried to close them, he used his own leg to wedge yours back open, pressing his erection into your hip and making it clear where this was heading.

Those cruel yet seductive fingertips ran along your slit before dipping into the humiliatingly apparent wetness and spreading it up to your clit. He gave a hum of male satisfaction at your pleasured gasp, exploring your body in a way that made both shame and desire heat your skin. The tip of his finger teased at your wet opening, barely dipping inside. Your hips bucked, and you didn’t know whether it was an attempt to get away or move closer.

His voice was more raspy than before, when he asked in a condescending tone, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, my pretty little girl?”

You hoped he didn’t notice the way your pussy clenched onto the tip of his finger when he called you ‘his’, but judging by his groan, he had.

Slow, achingly slow, he pushed his finger inside you, the long digit reaching places that your own hands never could. Your head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, baring your throat to him, as desire officially overtook the will to escape.

“Yes, that’s it,” he cooed, the thumb of his other hand tracing over the rapid pulse that beat in the side of your throat. “Show how you belong to me.”

His words should’ve scared you, and they did in a far-off and hazy kind of way, but you were more focused on how he was pushing a second finger inside you. He rubbed them with knowledgeable precision against the sensitive front wall, making you cry out when they found your g-spot. And when his thumb also started rubbing quick little circles on your clit, you decided that maybe belonging to him wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

He continued that way, relentless, his breaths coming in heavy puffs against your cheek as he finger fucked you roughly until the tension between your thighs coiled into a tight spring of need. Whimpering, you dimly realized that your hands were grasping desperately at his arms and your thighs had fallen open wide of their own accord.

“There you go, pet. Take your pleasure, be a good little girl.” The hand at your throat tightened slightly, just enough to make you have to work a bit harder to draw breath. “And then, I’m going to fuck you...and I’m not going to be gentle about it.”

The orgasm slammed into you unexpectedly, and it was unlike any you had previously experienced. The combination of his praise and threat, along with the motions of both his hands, sent your body soaring. Your cries were hoarse and strained from his grip at your throat, and your legs shook as you came all over his hand, his eyes flaring down at you with delight as your body convulsed against him.

He removed the hand from between your thighs, lifting his wet fingers to your lips and ordering you to open them. Still drunk off the orgasm, you did so without hesitation.

“Suck them clean. Taste your own desperation,” he purred, teeth nipping sharply at your ear as he ground his hips against you.

Once he was satisfied with your work, he removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop before reaching down to his crotch and starting to undo the fabric. You watched in silent awe as he removed just enough of the unearthly clothing to release his thick cock, the head a dark red and already glistening with precum. Despite your recent orgasm, you still felt a bit of apprehension, knowing it was going to be a tight fit. He gave it a few firm strokes with his fist before he grabbed your hips and twirled you around so that you were facing the wall, his feet pushing your legs open even wider, spreading you out for him.

It felt so taboo, his still fully-dressed, muscular body pressing into your naked back, his bare erection bobbing between your spread thighs. He was so tall that when the hand at your throat pushed upward, forcing your head to tip back until your face was parallel with the ceiling, he was able to lean down over you and make eye contact. You tried to look away, but his fingers pressed into your windpipe in retaliation.

“Eyes on me, girl. I want to see that little look of pain in your eyes when I press into you.”

Your eyes widened at that, causing him to chuckle. The tip of his cock notched at your opening, but he didn’t press forward, drawing out the tension of the moment.

“Who do you belong to?” he taunted.

Licking your lips with both anticipation and nervousness, you whispered, “You.”

He made a deep, approving noise in his throat. “Yes. Say it. Say my name.”

“Loki,” you answered with a cry, as he started to press his cock forward, your body twisting as it struggled to adjust to the wide head.

“No no, don’t tense up,” he hissed. “Take it. Take it all.”

With that, he pushed inside you with one long, slow thrust. You felt the slight burn as your body stretched to accommodate every thick inch. It must’ve shown in your face, because his lips curled into a smirk at the same time as he groaned deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your back.

“Mmm, you suffer so beautifully for me. Look at you, taking all of my cock like a good little girl.”

The bastard knew what his words did to you, panting out a chuckle when he felt you involuntarily clench around him in response. Your hands were braced against the wall, back arched as he grasped your throat and hip with his hands and impaled you on his cock. You felt so full, so utterly overtaken when he ground his hips into your ass, as if to see just how deep he could go.

He withdrew slowly before thrusting back in, quick and harsh, causing you to cry out with the sharp pleasure-pain. He did it again, pulling his hips back agonizingly slow until the tip of his cock was resting at your entrance. He paused for a moment before pushing back inside, as if to recreate that initial claiming thrust. After doing this about half a dozen times, he stopped teasing and set up a steady and deep rhythm, each thrust sending sparks throughout your entire body.

Your eyes had started to flutter shut, but his hand cutting off your air caused them to reopen and focus up at him, his chiseled features hovering over you in the dim light, gaze searing down into your own. This time, you didn’t panic, didn’t tug at his arm, just stared up at him with desire-glazed eyes and let him do as he wished. You could practically feel his approval of your surrender, his fingers loosening long enough for you to draw a few breaths before tightening again.

“You’re so pretty like this, surrendering to me,” he growled through bared teeth, once again letting up on your throat so that you could gasp in air and let it out with a moan. “Every breath you take is mine. Every gasp from your lips, every flutter of your pulse...it’s because I allow it. And now, I’m going to fill up this cunt and claim it as mine.”

Your whimper was cut off as his hand tightened once more, hips picking up the pace as he thrust brutally into you, his balls smacking your clit and fingers pressing so deeply into your hip that you knew there would be bruises to match the ones at your throat. The edges of your vision were starting to become fuzzy when he let up for the last time, his hand lowering from your neck to run over your breasts, tweaking the nipples until you whined before continuing downward.

When his fingertips zeroed in on your clit, you let out a pleading noise which, under other circumstances, would’ve made you ashamed at how needy it sounded. You weren’t sure what exactly you were begging for, but you did know that he was the only one who could give it to you. The harsh bite of his cock dragging against your sensitive inner walls combined with the fast and skilled movements of his fingers drove you up to the edge, forehead dropping to the wall as you moaned uncontrollably, his answering grunts sending shivers through you.

The hand gripping your hip came up to wrap in your hair, pulling your head back so that you were once again looking up at him, and you couldn’t help but think that he was one of the most glorious creatures you had ever seen. His features looked as wrecked as you felt, cords in his neck standing out with stark relief in his pale, moonlit skin as his jaw clenched tightly, eyes focused unwaveringly on you. It was one of the most intensely intimate moments of your life, his piercing gaze breaking you wide open with nowhere to hide.

You started shaking uncontrollably, body balanced right on the knife’s edge of pleasure and wanting so badly to fall over into the abyss. His lips twisted knowingly as your pussy started to flutter around his cock.

“Yes, that’s it. Come for me.” The hand between your legs pressed in harder, moved faster. “Come for your god.”

As if the words were the final push your body needed, the orgasm flowed through you. It wasn’t as volatile a punch as the first one; instead, it drowned you in waves of blissfully intense pleasure that drew soft cries from your lips, the sound mingling with his own strangled groan. Leaning down, hand still fisted in your hair, he bit into your shoulder as he came. You felt his warm cum filling you as he did just as he promised, and claimed you as his.

Mind floating from the high of your orgasm and body trembling with little aftershocks, you felt his hips slow then still, his mouth moving from your shoulder to lick a trail of sweat that was running down the side of your neck. Whimpering, you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back into his, grinding onto the softening cock that was still buried deep.

He hummed with approval, his hands running up over your sides, tracing your body with possession for a few long moments as both of your bodies calmed. Taking your earlobe gently between his teeth, he whispered, “You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose. Is that clear, kitten?”

Part of you wanted to deny him, wanted to find the strength to fight back, now that the orgasmic stupor was starting to lift. Instead, your body responded of its own accord, head nodding with submission.

His lips pressed softly to your temple, making you gasp at the gentle touch. You realized dazedly that it was the first kiss he’d given you all night.

“Good girl.”

The words were said a moment before his body moved away, his cock slipping wetly from your body. The cool air hitting your back made you immediately miss his body heat. You turned around, unsure what to do or say next…

But he was gone.

The back door was slightly ajar from him disappearing into the night, leaving you standing there, naked and shivering, his cum starting to trickle down the inside of your thigh. Grabbing your shorts and panties, you put them on before finding the tatters of your tank top and holding it to the front of your chest. Walking over to the door, you closed it with a click that sounded unnaturally loud in the empty kitchen.

You went around to the windows and re-closed the blinds, stopping at the last one to glance out into the yard. It was empty, completely undisturbed, but you knew he hadn’t gone far...and that he wouldn’t be gone for long.

Leaving the broken glass in the sink to deal with in the morning, you grabbed another one, filled it with water, and headed for the staircase. As you tucked back into bed, body already sore in places that made your skin heat with the memory, you thought back over his final words.

You’re mine now. Anytime I want you, anywhere I choose.

You wondered when he’d return to make good on his promise...and as you drifted off to sleep, tried to ignore the dark part of you that hoped it would be soon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Afterword: This is meant to be only a one shot. I know, I know, I left it very open-ended. But I like to leave something to the imagination, so y’all can create your own fantasy idea of what might happen to “you” next ;)

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sirtwentyofhousegoodmen · 4 years

Note

Arcturus at Orion's birth plz

July 5th, 1929

"Papa!"

Arcturus shifted his gaze from the newspaper to the four year old girl sat on his lap, who looked up at him, beseechingly.

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you read me a story?"

Arcturus rolled his eyes heavenward, and before he could tell the little hoyden to go bother her mother for one, he was hit with the reminder that Melania was rather occupied birthing his son at the moment.

He sighed—he'd come to his study to hide from his blasted uncles, cousins and siblings, all eagerly awaiting news of the Black heir's arrival with champagne and cigars, a noticeably more jovial celebration than there was at Lucretia's birth. No wonder, as Phineas Nigellus was no longer there to scream at everyone for their shortcomings.

Knowing that Lucretia inherited his strong will, and not having the energy to send her away after being awake for the past twenty hours, he begrudgingly put down his newspaper and, with a lazy swish of his wand, plucked an old storybook out of the bookcase.

"Just this once, Lucretia Black," He warned her, "Your father hasn't the time for such nonsense—so don't get any ideas about this being a regular occurrence."

Lucretia nodded, black curls bobbing up and down with each motion, and leaned back down onto his chest, waiting for him to begin.

It was one of Melania's books that she'd left in his study—they often took lunch there together, though rather than engage in conversation, an activity neither really favored, husband and wife preffered to read in each other's companionable silence.

It seemed innocuous enough—besides, it wasn't as if he could read Lucretia the tome he'd just acquired on Egyptian blood magic.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Arcturus raised his eyebrows at that, then nodded in approval at the statement. This was precisely the sort of thing an impressionable young girl like Lucretia should be reading.

As he continued, his voice grew softer and softer, owing to Lucretia's slowing breaths and drooping eyelids, but also to the fact that he was growing rather invested in the plot himself. He would never read this womanish dreck if Lucretia weren't here of course, but it was decently written, all in all.

The sound of the study door creaking open made Arcturus stop, but before he could look up to see who'd disturbed them, Lucretia said the last thing he wanted her to say at that moment.

"Burgie!!"

The girl in question darted into the room, a blur of black curls and white lace that Irma had trapped her in from head to toe.

Pollux's daughter was a terror. She looked innocent enough: all neat black curls and bright blue-grey eyes, but she was constantly running circles around her parents, and there wasn't an order in the world she couldn't flagrantly disobey. Unfortunately for him, Lucretia had taken to her cousin from the first—the girls were practically inseperable. In the first three years, it was often quite difficult to tell them apart—though now their faces were taking their own distinct shapes.

"Where were you, Lucy?" Walburga asked, her arms crossed and her face a mask of supreme churlishness.

"I found Papa," Lucretia said, as if the fact was a complete justification. "He's reading me a story."

Walburga turned her—far too sharp—gaze to him, and pouted. "I want to hear the story."

Arcturus's first reaction was a strong no—but then he realized that word didn't exist in Walburga's vocabulary, and if he were to introduce her to it now he'd be getting an earful from both her and her shrew of a mother.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. "I hate my life," he muttered to himself.

Walburga seemed to take that as a 'yes', as she climbed atop the couch and burrowed herself into his other side. Without a clue as to what to do, he just gaped at her nerve while she smiled up at him, looking damn near catlike.

"Go on, Cousin Arcturus," He narrowed his eyes at the cheeky, yet accurate form of address. The chit was good, he'll give her that. "Read!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you speak to your father that way, young lady?"

"Yes."

Arcturus blinked, then snorted. "Fair enough. But I'm not your father, so you'll take care to watch your tone when you speak to me."

She sighed, sulkily. "Yes, Cousin Arcturus."

Giving her a final stern glance, he put his focus back into the book and read until the two girls' breaths grew slow, and their eyes closed. Finally seeing they were asleep, he made to get up, then came to a crushing realization.

The bloody chits had him pinned to the infernal sofa.

Sighing, he made to lift Lucretia off of his left side but the girl had her arms firmly wrapped around his middle, and any sort of strong movement would have woken her—and in turn Walburga.

Turning to Walburga, he debated the merits of whether or not to pry her off him as well. On the one hand, she wasn't his (she'd be a damn sight less impudent if she were) and he did not want to be any more familiar than he already was . On the other hand, he was the official head of the family and he'd be damned if he was going to miss his son's birth over a sleeping hoyden.

Thankfully, the debate ended when the study door creaked open and Pollux came in, a sheen of sweat on his forehead—he'd never taken to cigars that well—and a glass of champagne in hand, beaming.

"Arcturus, it's—"

"Can you get your blasted daughter off me before you say what you have to say, Pollux?"

Pollux' seemed to take notice of his other companions and their state, as his eyes widened and he promptly put down his cigar and champagne flute on the table nearest them, and in one swift motion lifted up his daughter into his arms.

"Apologies, Arcturus," Pollux said, lightly rubbing a mildly fussy Walburga's back as she settled into her new position. "She can be a bit of a handful sometimes, our Burgie."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow in dissaproval at the look of pure adoration on his cousin's face at his daughter. First Irma, now Walburga—he was starting to get the feeling that Pollux actually liked his women impertinent.

How droll.

"Yes," he answered instead, "She certainly can. Anyhow, what is it you wanted to tell me, seeing as you've seen fit to come into my study?"

Pollux remembered himself then, and his bright smile was back. "Yes, of course—Congratulations are in order, old boy: You have a son."

Arcturus felt a wave of astonishment come over him, leaving him wide-eyed and dazed. "He's here?"

Pollux nodded. "Yes—Irma told us all that Melania's waiting for you upstairs."

Without another word in his cousin's direction he stood up, lifting Lucretia up with him, and all but ran upstairs, past all the well-wishers no doubt using his son's birth as an excuse to get plastered in the drawing room.

A son, an heir, a true heir! Ha!—Arcturus hoped that Phineas Nigellus had a good view of his triumph in hell, he wanted to see that old bastard eat his words.

The House of Black already had a male heir—Alphard's birth, though met with distinctly less fanfare since Melania's pregnancy had been announced by then, had been two months ago and his uncle Cygnus had not stopped crowing since. But this was different—Arcturus had an heir now, his own heir. A son to carry on his name and his legacy, a son to shape into a fine young man and to teach what it meant to be a proper black.

He reached the same oak door he'd gone through four years ago, and grabbing the handle, pushed it open.

Melania was on the bed, her face pale and drawn, and the healer beside her had his face set in a frown. Arcturus approached the man, the feeling of Lucretia’s hands around the back of his neck growing tighter.

“Is she alright?” He asked, without preamble.

“Ah, Mr. Black,” The rotund man took off his comically tiny, fogged-over pince-nez, cleaning them with his handkerchief. “Yes, I assure you—Mrs. Black is doing perfectly well, as is your son. The birth was rather strenuous on her, I’m afraid.”

“How strenuous?”

The man grimaced. “She’ll be perfectly fine—but I wouldn’t advise having another for at least a few years. I don’t think her body could take it.”

Arcturus furrowed his brow, shocked. “What? She did perfectly well with Lucretia.”

“The boy was larger than Lucretia,” The healer said, as if he were indulging a dim-witted child, which only served to raise his hackles. “Combined with the birth being four times longer, it’s no wonder she’s unwell. Rest assured, she’ll be perfectly fine with some bed-rest, and in a few years, if you still want another, we can certainly discuss what paths we could take on that front.”

Before Arcturus could convey his supreme outrage at being spoken to in such a way, the jolly man had the audacity to give him a pat on the back, and direct him to the crib where they’d put his son. Gingerly, he put Lucretia onto a chaise in the corner of the room, and approached the crib with trepidation.

When he caught sight of his son, he felt the breath leave him.

The boy was his mother’s spitting image—brown hair, large, owlish eyes, and pudgy red cheeks. The only feature he’d inherited from his father were those classic steely gray eyes that most Blacks were blessed with.

Carefully, he lifted him from his crib, and positioned him properly in his arms. The boy stirred, before wiggling a bit more and turning his new eyes up to peer at his father.

His son. His son.

Arcturus had never felt more proud in his life. All the tests, the trials, every single accomplishment in his life paled in comparison to this one. His son was the totality of all his efforts, the ultimate triumph.

But there was something else. Something more.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of Melania’s stirring from the other side of the room, and, remembering himself, he approached her with their son in tow.

“Remember, Mr. Black, she’s too weak to hold him at present—I’d advise keeping a safe distance.”

Arcturus gave the man a glare, and he rightly looked cowed, excusing himself and all but running from the room. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he looked over at his wife, who was just beginning to wake.

“Arcturus?” She asked, her voice tired and muddled.

"I'm here, Melly," He told her, taking his free hand and using it to wipe off the sheen of sweat that had gathered on her forehead.

Melania opened her eyes, blearily, and when she looked over at him with their son, gave them both a shaky smile. "How is he?"

"Perfect," Arcturus replied, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life. "He's perfect—your spitting image."

"Really?" She peered over at his face. "I rather thought he took after you."

"He has my eyes," he told her, bringing their boy closer. "The rest is all yours."

She sighed. "Is he right? I can't have any more?"

Arcturus blinked. The healer had told him she might very well have another in a few years, but they'd told his mother the same. He didn't want to risk it—wizards had not perfected the art of childbirth and h wasn't about to take her to a muggle so he could cut her open like some fish.

The thought of Melania on the bed, like mother, covered in pustules, soft, sweet voice meant for songs gone wheezy and delirious—No. No, he wasn't going to let that happen. He couldn't let that happen.

"Yes," Arcturus said, decision made. "It's not safe for you. We won't be having anymore."

Her face turned doleful then. "Oh."

They sat in a sort of awkward silence then while Arcturus kept smiling down at their son, until it was broken by the sound of a slight sniffle.

"I'm sorry."

Arcturus started at the words, then turned to meet his wife's eyes, which had become wet with tears.

"What?" He asked, mildly annoyed at the fact he had to deal with womanish drama today of all days.

"I failed you. I can't give you more children—what kind of a wife am I?"

Melania's face seemed to be a mixture between dawning horror at the fact that she'd failed in her duties and genuine sadness that she'd never experience what it was like to hold another baby of hers in her arms again.

Arcturus moved to cut off the stream of tears before it became too much for either of them.

"You've given me an heir, and a daughter," Arcturus pointed out, voice measured. "There's nothing else expected of you."

"You should have more," She said, shaking her head, her breaths growing shorter. "I wanted more." The last sentence was spoken in a kind of hushed tone.

"More are not worth your health, Melania." Arcturus groaned, was she truly under the impression she'd failed him? Had he ever intimated he wanted a house full of little rapscallions running about? He didn't—two was more than enough.

"That's not—"

"It is, and it is the final word we will have on this subject." Arcturus sighed. "You will not die, Melania. Not for one more son, nor for ten. You, Lucretia, and the boy are all I need. You are all..." he cleared his throat, uncomfortably, "...more than I could ever deserve. I have an heir—Now, all that matters is you and the children. Nothing more."

Melania looked at him, flabbergasted at how candid he'd gotten, before nodding, still dumbstruck. "As you say."

Arcturus pretended not to notice her smile of relief, nor the overly loving way she was looking at him.

Those emotions made him...uneasy.

"Orion," Melania said, thought it came out as half a question. She elaborated at Arcturus's raised eyebrow. "I was reading a book on Black names when I went into labor. The one I liked best was Orion—I thought to bring it to you to see if you approved."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised that his slip of a wife had gathered the nerve to put forth a name herself. Orion...Yes, it was a good name. A strong name—The Hunter. One of the only good memories he had left of his father had been sitting in his study, asking him to point out all the names of the stars enchanted into the ceiling—Orion had always been his favorite.

"Orion Arcturus Black," Arcturus said, nodding in approval. "A good name, Melly. I approve."

Melania beamed—though she promptly grimaced.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" She nodded. "Not to worry—I'll find that fat old man and order him to give my wife as much pain potion as she damn well wants."

He gave her a kiss to the forehead. "She deserves it."

#noble and most ancient house of black #harry potter #the black sheep dog #ozymandias #arcturus black #melania macmillan black #pollux black #lucretia black #walburga black #orion black

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lovelucybradford · 4 years

Text

I Pretend You’re Mine-2

Chapter Two: We Learn to Live with the Pain (Mosaic Broken Hearts)

Masterlist

A/N: Thanks so much for all of your support on Chapter One. I’m so excited that you love it as much as I do! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this story. Also, not sure how I feel about this one. Be warned: I hate Jennifer Blake.

Derek and Rose’s ‘engagement’ was supposed to stay a secret between the four of them. So, naturally, all of her friends knew about it. Even if she tried (and she really, really wanted to) Rosalie couldn’t push the thought of the upcoming ruse to the back of her mind. Her friends wouldn’t let her.

It started out innocently enough. A ‘Hey Rosie, Derek looks hot, don’t you think’ here or a ‘Friends to lovers is the best, right Rosalie’ there. Rosalie was used to it. Ever since she returned to Beacon Hills and became close with all of Lydia’s friends, who had somehow become Derek’s in the span of years, they’d been relentless with their teasing of Derek and her.

The joking she could handle.

It was when they used Rosalie’s feelings for Derek for their own amusement that it really started to bug her.

Wednesday had been the day from hell. It all started in Rosalie’s first period class. One of her more bold students, captain of the lacrosse team, had greeted her not with his normal, ‘What up, Miss H?’. No, the boy strutted right in, stopped at her desk, and said, ‘How’s it going, Mrs. Hale?’ with a shit-eating grin. Alex Layhue was normally the last to arrive to class, right before the late bell rang, so, of course, all of Rose’s other students had heard him. And began to refer to her as Mrs. Hale. Which had spread like wildfire, and then all of the kids called Rosalie by Derek’s surname.

It only stopped once she’d threatened detention. By the time eighth period was over, Rosalie was fuming and ready to stomp right out onto the lacrosse field to give her good friend, Assistant Lacrosse Coach Scott McCall, a piece of her mind. Instead, Rosalie raced out the door as soon as she was allowed to leave, forgoing her normal after-school visit to Derek’s classroom.

Rosalie’d reached her apartment, eternally thankful that the shitshow was over, when she had spotted it: a poorly taped rose on the front door, with a sign next to it. A rather crude sign.

Congrats on the D(erek). Love, Isaac. The words were bad enough. Isaac had to go and include a rather accurate drawing of Derek as a, um, d.

She had ripped the sign off the front door, threw it into the wastebasket under the kitchen sink, then punched the damned thing a few more times for good measure.

Then, Rose had called and screamed at Isaac. She couldn’t remember what was said in her anger, but Rosalie knew that a few choice words were thrown in, along with ‘obscene’, ‘tasteless’ and ‘terrible friend’.

Isaac showed up at the woman’s front door an hour after the ‘conversation’ holding a bottle of wine in one hand and takeout in another, a guilty smile on his face. Rosalie forgave him. Eventually.

That night, she’d had a very vivid dream about Derek’s dick. Rosalie woke up the next morning, covered in sweat, and knew that if she saw Derek she would spontaneously combust, and, well, other things that she didn’t want to even ponder.

So, Rosalie spent the rest of the week eating lunch in her car, leaving right after the final bell, and basically avoiding her best friend at all costs.

Until today. Rosalie had been waiting all week to watch this movie, and she would be damned if the deafening bang of construction across the street from her apartment building would keep her from Peter Kavinsky.

The door to the loft slid open, and Derek sauntered in, hands full with grocery bags. He paused at the sight of Rosalie, his face contorted in disgust.

“Get that shit off my TV!” he grumbled.

Rosalie paused the movie, looking up at him with a sharp glare. “It is not shit, Derek Sebastian Hale. It is romance. You wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass.”

Derek scoffed. “Oh yeah? Remember, my senior year, when I showed up in front of my ex’s house all John Hughes-like and quoted Shakespeare at her like a total douche?”

“Mmm, yeah. And that went over swimmingly, didn’t it, Romeo? I specifically remember having to clean the cut on your forehead from the rock that she threw at you.” Rosalie snorted.

Derek ignored her, hauling the bags into the kitchen and shoving items into cabinets. Rose joined him, grabbing a bag of refrigerated foods. As she pulled out the milk, a slip of paper flittered to the ground. She reached down to grab it, stopping short when she found that a phone number was written on the back of the receipt.

“Elena Soto gave you her phone number?” Rosalie asked Derek.

Damn. Rosalie suspected that Elena was after Derek since the day that the new Spanish teacher started at BHHS. Two weeks ago. Girl had game, Rosalie gave her that.

Derek put down the box of noodles in his hand and scratched the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at his friend. Rosalie could see a hint of pink on his cheekbones and wondered if the man had actually gotten a sunburn after years of making fun of her for her lobster-tone skin in the summertime.

“Yeah. She, uh, asked me out to dinner next Saturday night.”

Rosalie straightened herself back up and busied with putting food in the fridge. She feigned nonchalance, asking, “And what did you say?”

“I told her thank you, but I’ll be in Hawaii… with you.”

The woman hid her smug smile in the inside of the refrigerator. Serves Elena right. “I thought you’d forgotten. Since you haven’t, you know, even brought it up since Disneyland.”

“I didn’t forget. And it’s not like you brought it up, either.”

True. Rosalie was avoiding that discussion like the plague. She knew that she’d be able to pull of fake fiancée. She’d had feelings for Derek that were successfully repressed since she was sixteen. But Derek… he’d made it very clear that he felt nothing more than familial love towards Rosalie. How could he convincingly play madly in love with her?

“I’m sorry I cockblocked your hot date with Senorita Soto,” Rose confessed, tone sounding more harsh than intended.

“Rosalie.”

She pulled her head out of the fridge and shut the door. The BB-8 magnet her niece bought him at Disney was displayed proudly towards the top. Rosalie studied it as an excuse to not look at Derek, lest he catch onto her jealousy.

She was losing her touch. Rosalie had built an excellent poker face over the years, and she let her friends’ suggestions and one bold woman break it. Rose had to up her game.

“Rosalie, you know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s why I didn’t bring Elena up. You’re my best friend. You know I’d do anything for you.”

Rosalie smiled deviously up at him, all thoughts of Elena Soto gone and replaced again with Peter Kavinsky. “Does that include watching my romcom?”

Derek rolled his eyes with a playful smile. He eventually gave in after Rose told him she would buy them a pizza.

___________

Rosalie tried to enjoy the movie, but one thought plagued her mind like some annoyingly catchy song.

Fake dating contract. It was so cringey she didn’t want to bring it up. But she did anyways.

“Hey Derek? This sounds so stupid, but since you and I are two adults playing pretend, don’t you think you and I should, you know, come up with rules for our charade?” Rosalie shoved pizza in her face to distract herself from any comment that would come next.

Derek laughed. “Yeah, ok, Lara Jean Comey.”

“It’s Covey, not Comey… and I’m serious, Der. You and I have both been shit on by our significant others. Don’t you think it would be good for us to come up with some kind of guidelines, so this doesn’t get out of hand and neither of us get hurt?”

Derek sighed, putting his plate down on the coffee table and giving Rosalie his full attention. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Rosalie bit her lip, thinking. When she came up with nothing, she asked, “Do you have any dealbreakers?”

“I’m not making Drew jealous,” he swiftly announced.

Rosalie’s eyes shot up to his. “I’m not in love with Drew anymore, so there’s no need to make him jealous.”

“Thank God. What about you?”

She ignored the former comment. Rose did have a dealbreaker. She knew it would sound totally prudish on her end, but Rosalie knew her limits.

“No… No kissing.”

“What do you mean no kissing? Like, I can’t kiss you at all, or no tongue? Because I sure as hell know that we won’t be believable if I can’t kiss you.”

“And how would you know that?”

Derek pursed his lips. “I remember having an in-depth conversation with your brother about how gross you and Drew were together.”

Rosalie gaped at him. “And you didn’t stick your tongue down Jennifer’s throat at your engagement party?! It was like witnessing some messed-up porno. And, in my defense, Drew initiated every public—”

“I did not have my tongue down Jen’s throat!”

“Then why did Laura tell you two to get a room?”

Derek scowled. “Moving on…”

“Ok, rule 1: yes, to kissing. No tongue.” Rose ticked on her finger. “Two, no checking out other women. Like, at all.”

“You think I would do that when I’m engaged? I’m not a total dick.”

“I know that Derek. I’m just saying, when you were younger—”

“When I was younger. I’ve matured a lot since I was eighteen.”

She smacked his shoulder playfully. “You sure about that, Mr. I-throw-a-tantrum-every-time-I-lose-to-Scott-at-pool?”

“Shut up.”

“You can’t deny it, Hale. I know you too well… anything else to add?”

“No sex,” Derek said so suddenly that Rosalie about fell out of her spot on the couch.

“I…” She started, but couldn’t formulate a sentence, so she just nodded her agreement.

They sat in silence for a while, Rosalie processing what the hell happened.

“Let me warn you now. I don’t know how to be a good fiancé,” Derek added so softly that Rosalie might have missed it if she wasn’t so in tune with him.

“Derek…” She looked up to meet his green eyes, full of turmoil, of ghosts of past hurts. A haunted look that Rosalie knew too well. Only because she wore it too, late at night when she was alone with her demons.

Rosalie’s heart broke for him, and she pulled him into a hug. Derek was rarely vulnerable, preferring to keep those emotions locked tight. Rosalie was thankful that he opened himself up enough to let her see that side of him.

“You were a good fiancé, Der. It wasn’t your fault, that it ended. Jennifer was a bitch… I knew she wasn’t good for you,” Rosalie whispered into his shoulder, squeezing him tight so he knew that she meant every word.

Derek’s hot breath fanned over Rose’s neck as he spoke. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

She pulled away from him, leaving her hands on his shoulders. Rosalie set him with an unimpressed look. “Would you have listened?”

Derek shook his head, a small smile overtaking the once hard line of his lips. “Nah, probably not.”

___________________________________________________________

Tags: @wolfarrowepz

#derek hale #derek hale fluff #tyler hoechlin #derek hale x reader #teen wolf

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

I just thought of the shelter getting a pet goat that was rescued from a farm and theyre like ???? We do cats and dogs and the occasional rodent but like, a goat??? And Geralt is like "I know the EXACT person for this job" and that's how Eskel ends up with Lil Bleater, and any other unusual animal that gets handed in.

You. I love the way your mind works. Especially because this gives me an excuse to write more Eskel. (Like I need an excuse. I totally was going to write a serial killer AU if my head hadn’t been turned by this ask...) But anyway. You’re right, Lil Bleater absolutely needs to make an appearance in this AU.

Predominantly, the shelter was for cats and dogs. Sometimes someone brought in a guinea pig or rabbit but it wasn’t often. Usually, the owners of those could be redirected to a more suitable shelter and everyone was happy. What Jaskier couldn’t stand were the people who tied their beloved pet to the gate or left some poor creature in a box on the doorstep. Those animals were almost always in need of Geralt’s attention, traumatised by being so literally dumped. A few hours tied to a gate without water or attention never did anyone any good and turning up to work to find a stressed and scared animal tied up was never a brilliant start to the day. However, it was something that happened with a disheartening frequency but nothing could have prepared Jaskier for arriving to open up, only to find a goat on a leash, standing next to the gate. The leash was so short, the goat couldn’t chew through it but it couldn’t do anything else either, other than stand on shaking legs.

“Oh you poor thing,” Jaskier approached slowly. He had no idea what to do with the goat. If he put it into a kennel, the dogs would probably stress it out but a cat pen was not big enough. Untying the leash, he watched it walk, making a beeline for the grass.

After a minute of letting it graze, Jaskier tugged the leash gently, intent on at least giving it some water and making up a carrier to rest in behind the front desk while he figured out what to do. It was still early, Jaskier got there for seven to do morning rounds before the shelter officially opened at nine. At least Geralt was going to be in at half past to help with the morning rounds.

Sure enough, Geralt was there on time, greeting Jaskier with a small kiss, Roach trotting at his heels. She zeroed in on the carrier with the goat immediately, snuffling it until told to leave alone.

“Who have we got here?” Geralt asked with a sad voice. He knew a carrier meant someone in need of a vet. Crouching down, Jaskier saw the moment he registered their unusual guest.

“I have no idea what we’re going to do with a goat.” The admission hurt and Jaskier shrugged. “Found it tied to the gate. No note, poor thing couldn’t even lie down.”

Geralt stayed crouched, looking thoughtfully at the goat. Roach sat down by his side and stared too, just as serious.

“Trust me on this?” Geralt asked, already pulling his phone out, knowing Jaskier would say yes. However, he waited until he was actually given a verbal confirmation before dialling a number. “It’s me- yes, I know it’s early- No, just put him on- It has to be him, yes- Fuck you three are a nightmare- Just come to the shelter- I’m okay, just hurry.”

Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the shelter’s door and Jaskier opened it to Eskel, Lambert and another man. They all marched in, looking a little rumpled as if they’d been woken up from sleeping in a puppy pile. Geralt nodded at them as he came to the foyer, Roach left behind for now.

“Eskel, there’s a carrier behind the front desk, it’s one for you.”

Without questioning it, Eskel moved to look while Lambert and the other man hung back with Jaskier who was giving them a look, trying to figure it all out. Seeming to remember his manners, the stranger stuck his hand out for Jaskier to shake.

“Cahir. I have zero clue what’s going on. But I’m here and I’m supporting my boyfriends because it’s too early in the morning to do anything else.”

That had Lambert snorting and snaking a hand around Cahir’s waist. “Babe, you never have a clue what’s going on. And you never do anything but support our idiocy.”

Jaskier had many questions, predominantly about the fact that he’d last been introduced to Lambert and Eskel as though they were Geralt’s brothers. It was confusing. However, his attention was absolutely snatched up by a veritable coo from behind the desk as Eskel discovered the goat. There was the sound of the carrier being opened and soft words of encouragement.

Standing up, Geralt beckoned the others silently closer and they quietly approached to peer over the edge of the desk. Eskel was sat on the floor, goat with two hooves on his knee, sniffing him.

“Aren’t you a gorgeous girl?” Eskel murmured. Deemed friendly enough, the goat hopped into his lap and he gathered her to his chest with a small bleat that was too quiet for a goat of her size. If Eskel had been besotted before, he was positively melting, holding the goat to his chest as he stood up.

“Well, she’s definitely used to being handled,” Jaskier commented as he watched Eskel walk to Lambert and Cahir with the goat.

“He’s not named it,” Lambert muttered to Cahir, “We have a chance here.”

“Guys,” Eskel was staring down at the goat, “meet Lil Bleater.”

“Fuck!” Lambert cursed but he didn’t look mad. If anything, he was smiling just as badly as Eskel.

Cahir seemed horribly entertained by the whole thing. He reached to give Lil Bleater a scratch between the horns. “So when you were saying that the garden looks empty, even with the chicken run, what you were trying to tell me is you want me to build a goat pen next to it, right?”

The innocently hopeful look Eskel shot Cahir had Jaskier’s heart melting. He didn’t think Cahir could say no to such a look, even if he had wanted to.

“Told you I have a solution,” Geralt murmured, wrapping around Jaskier from behind. “She’ll be doted upon now.”

“Geralt, your brothers-” Jaskier had no delicate way of asking without sounding like a dick. “Are they fucking?”

Suddenly Lambert laughed and he turned to look at Jaskier. “You didn’t actually think we were brothers, right? Do we look anything alike?”

Come to think of it, there was only a passing resemblance between Eskel and Geralt. He was trying to think of a polite way of digging his way out of the situation rather than make it worse.

Thankfully, Eskel beat him to it. “Brother is quicker and more accurate than best friend.”

“I know I’m kinky but even I draw the line at incest,” Cahir piped up, looking far too amused. “My standards may be low but come on, do I really look the type? We just met! Do I give off such vibes?”

Jaskier blushed and tried to apologise and deny it and make amends all at the same time. Snorting, Geralt gave him a squeeze around the middle.

“They’re just fucking with you.” Turning to look at the other three, he smiled. “We have work to do. Take your goat and get her settled in. Thanks for helping out with her.”

Bidding their goodbyes, Eskel carried Lil Bleater out, wrapping his coat around her carefully, making a warm cocoon against his chest. Geralt hummed as he watched them leave. “I’ll bet you a blowjob the goat pen never gets built and she will sleep in their bed.”

Three weeks later, Jaskier was on his knees and had never been more happy to lose a bet.

#geraskier #eskel/lambert/cahir #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #lil bleater #animal shelter au #tldr: lil bleater finds a new home

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multiharlot · 5 years

Text

real life spencer / matthew gray gubler x reader

summary: in which matthew meets the woman who inspired the man that’s stolen the hearts of america.

masterlist

part two

third person pov

the girl walked timidly through the busy filming set, clutching her hands around the strap of her shoulder bag. she approaches the studio doors, rocking awkwardly on her white low top vans and running her hand through her hair. her yellow midi skirt swayed softly over her legs as the warm los angeles breeze floated through her white button up. the doors open suddenly and she jumps back, nearly tripping over herself.

“you must be, y/n. i’m jeff davis, thank you for coming in today.” the man smiles, sticking his hand out to the girl.

her mouth opens and closes before she smiles.

“hi. sorry umm...germ thing.” she chuckled awkwardly.

“oh. oh right i’m sorry. come in and meet the cast.” he says, wiping his hands on his pants and opening the door wider.

she stepped into the doors, tucking her hair behind her ears and waiting for jeff to lead the way.

“we really appreciate you being here and consulting with us. we want to make this show as real as possible.” he explains as he leads her towards the writers room.

“of course, i’m happy to help. you did decide to base a character off of me, it’s the least i can do.” she nods, the thought in her mind made her feel slightly awkward, but grateful nonetheless.

“yes, the cast is so excited to meet you by the way. we all were. it’s not everyday you get to meet a real life genius.” he chuckles.

“technically, passing the IQ test only determines that you have a certain IQ. a large portion of those with higher IQ’s aren’t all that smart. high IQ’s couldn’t determine your true intelligence, never mind a genius.” she shrugs, silently reveling in the fact that yet another person had called her a genius.

she secretly hated the term genius. as complimenting as it was, the word had hung over her head her entire life. she herself never believe she was a genius, and the word alone made her feel as though she had to meet a certain quota. the idea of being a genius held her to a standard that she felt she couldn’t meet.

“right...well i mean, you do have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. so...you’re the most genius non-genius i’ve ever met.” jeff shrugged, stopping in front of the white door.

“yeah...” the girl trails off, stopping beside him.

“well this is the writer’s room, and this is our cast. everyone, meet agent- sorry, dr. y/n y/l/n. doctor, i give you the criminal minds cast.” jeff smiles as he opens the door, leading the girl into the room.

she rocked awkwardly on her sneakers, waving timidly.

“oh you’re so cute!” kirsten squeals, wrapping her arms around the girl, making her jump back.

“sorry. ah. i’m sorry. i just uhh...germ thing.” she chuckles, making kirsten blush.

“oh. oh i’m so sorry. i’m just a hugger.”

“that’s okay. you know our tendency to engage in physical touch is often a product of our upbringing. those of us who’s parents weren’t as physically demonstrative tend to disengage from activities like hugging, or even something as simple as a pat on the back.” the girl rambles nervously, making everyone in the room pause.

“although, some children tend to have the exact opposite effect, leading to a starvation for human physical interaction, which in turn actually turns them into huggers.” matthew smiles widely at the girl.

she blushes, and a nervous chuckle escapes her lips.

“you must be dr. spencer reid, nice to meet you.” she smiles, nodding her head at the man.

“my name is matthew. matthew gray gubler. and it’s nice to meet you too, doctor.” he smirks, looking the girl up at down.

shemar raises his eyebrow at him, an impressed smirk growing onto his face.

“right, well, y/n here has graciously taken the day off to help assist in our terminology and making this show as realistic as possible. so, let’s get started.” jeff smiles, closing the door behind him.

the room buzzes with light chatter as everyone begins taking their seats. y/n stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure of where she would be going. matthew takes note of this, and smiles softly, standing from his chair and walking over to her.

“you can come sit next to me.” he smiles.

“o-okay.” she nods, clutching the strap of her bag tightly and following beside him.

the cast all exchange knowing looks as they looked from each other to the pair off in their own little world.

“so, tell me, is working in the fbi as hectic as we’re making it seem?” matthew asks, leaning his head on his hands.

“yes and no. we’re more of a sub-unit within the national center for the analysis of violent crimes. there are a total of six different behavioral analysis units, each of us working for a different type of crime.” she explains as the writers scribbled across their notepads feverishly.

“and which one are you on?” thomas asks, and she smiles as she looks at the man.

“i work in analysis unit 4, which is crimes against adults and we also work hand in hand with the violent criminal apprehension program, also known as ViCap.”

“is it true you graduated high school at twelve? or did jeff just make that up?” kirsten asks, her eyes wide and curious.

“thirteen. not twelve. and after high school, i attended Stanford, Cal Tech, and then Harvard where i was immediately recruited by the US government. i’m not supposed to tell you this, but it’s true what they say about those who take math 55.”

“how many PhD’s do you have?” aj asks as she leans onto the table.

“two. chemistry and clinical psychology. and i also have a master’s degree in neurobiology.”

“did they wave you through the academy the same way they did pretty boy, here?” shemar asks, ruffling the top of matthew’s head.

“no they did not. i actually went through the training, same as everyone else. one thing that isn’t accurate about this show, however, is that our agents are actually required to take a certain amount of personal days per month, and there’s a mandatory 12 hours of counseling with our building psychologist that we have to complete every month.”

“how many personal days?” matthew asks, a flirtatious smile slapped on his face causing the butterflies to go into a frenzy in y/n’s stomach.

“u-um. i have a quota of three days per month. so i usually take a long weekend at the end of every month.” she smiles, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.

“do you carry a gun? oh! can we see your credentials?” aj gasps, almost excitedly.

“i do. but only when i’m on the job. otherwise, i don’t like having them. and uhh..yeah sure.” y/n mumbles, rummaging through her purse and pulling out both her credentials and her identification card.

y/n hands them to matthew and his fingers graze lightly over hers, causing a blush to form over her cheeks. he passes them along to the rest of the cast and he then looks down at the girl next to him.

“can i draw you?”

“only if i can draw you.”

matthew chuckles, nodding his head. and the two mindlessly doodled each other as the meeting went on. y/n answered what seemed like an endless amount of questions and matthew simply stared her. her eyes, her nose, her lips. he found her absolutely beautiful, and he couldn’t manage to tear his eyes away from her for longer than 2 minutes at a time. as y/n finished her one line doodle of matthew, she scribbled a quick note at the bottom of the page, and tore it out of her notebook. matthew ripped the page from his, ready to hand it to the girl when jeff interrupted them.

“alright guys, we’ll see you tomorrow. and thank you, dr. y/l/n, for coming in. i can’t explain how informative you’ve been.”

odd choice of words, she thought. but she nodded, saying you’re welcome nonetheless.

everyone began to exit the room and matthew called out for the doctor, stopping her in her tracks. she looks up at him only realize just how tall he really was.

“here.” he smiled, handing over the paper.

to: the real life spencer reid from: gatthew may bugler

she giggled as she opened the page, seeing the truly abstract drawing of herself.

“this is actually really good.” she smiled, staring down at the page.

“thank you. it helped to have such a beautiful model.” he says, biting his lip nervously.

a blush covered her cheeks and her ears and she giggled nervously.

“well umm...here.” she says, handing over her page.

when he folds open the paper, his mouth falls open at the beautiful one-line drawing she had done of him. then, his eyes fall to the bottom of the page, and his mouth runs dry.

“umm..give me a call if you need any...character reference.” she says as she rocks back and forth on her feet.

“can i call you even if i don’t need any character reference?”

she smiles, nodding her head.

“would uh...would you maybe want to go grab lunch with me?” he asks, scratching nervously at the back of his neck.

she opens her mouth to say something when her phone rings out. her eyebrows furrow as she pulls her phone out of her bag, her partners name across the top.

“sorry, this’ll just take a second- i’m on my personal time, fields.” she sighs into the phone.

“no no i know. so am i. and i also know you’re in los angeles. wanna go check out the bureau offices?”

“sorry, i have plans.” y/n shrugs, staring up at matthew.

“oh do you? doing what?” fields questions.

y/n bites her lip, reaching over and grabbing matthew’s hand.

“someone’s taking me to lunch” she smiles, pulling matthew towards the studio exit and hanging up the phone.

“so, where are we going mr. bugler?” she smiles.

“i thought you had a germ thing.” he says, raising an eyebrow at their intertwined hands.

“i’ll make an exception for you.” she shrugs, making him smile.

“well, how does chinese sound?”

“perfect..as long as i don’t have to use those god awful chopsticks.”

“a PhD in engineering yet you can’t use chopsticks?”

“excuse you. dr. reid is the one with the PhD in engineering. i only have PhD’s in chemistry and psychology.”

“oh. yeah. only.”

taglist:

@dreatine @slytherinintj13 @mileven-reddie @eleventhdoctorsangel @haileymorelikestupid

#mgg #mgg imagine #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #x reader

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peraltasames · 4 years

Text

stars are just beginning to appear (and i have never in my life before been here)

28. “I have never felt this way about anyone” requested by anonymous with some early relationship fluff 💘💘💘

read on ao3

Amy collapses on Jake’s couch the second they cross the threshold into his studio apartment and take off their shoes and jackets. Her feet are beyond sore from their day spent walking around the city, and her poor out-of-shape boyfriend seems to be on the cusp of total debilitation.

“Can’t...make it,” Jake huffs dramatically, leaning against the back of the door that he’s just locked behind him. “Too far.”

She rolls her eyes, patting the seat next to her. “Get over here, idiot.”

Jake, very theatrically, stumbles over and plops down next to her, spreading out his limbs so that he’s occupying most of the couch. She doesn’t mind - it just gives her an excuse to lean back against his chest and kick her feet up on the coffee table, nuzzling into his chest as he wraps his arm around her waist.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks, playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

“I mean, I wish you had let us take the subway instead of walking like eighty blocks, but it was really fun.”

Amy had woken up that morning to sunlight and a cool autumn breeze creeping in through the window, and she knew immediately that it was the perfect day to be tourists in their own city. He hadn’t taken much convincing - a few kisses to his shoulder and the promise of a cup of coffee from his favourite place seemed to do the trick.

“It’s part of the experience! I mean, when was the last time you walked across the Brooklyn Bridge?”

“I don’t know, that’s what the F train is for!”

She laughs softly, already reminiscing on their day together. Aside from the bickering over the best way to see the city (which is obviously by foot, with the bonus of getting some exercise) and having to navigate the swell of tourists, it was picture-perfect; she’s certain she could spend every moment of every day walking through the autumn foliage of Central Park with Jake Peralta’s hand firmly in hers.

She even brought him to her absolute favourite spot in the city, the cafe right across from the largest New York Public Library branch at 42nd and Fifth. It’s one of the first places she went when she moved to New York for college, and their croissants and vanilla lattes still bring her an unparalleled sense of comfort and warmth.

“You know, that was one of the best lattes I’ve ever had,” Jake admits, squeezing his arm around her. “So I guess the walk to Midtown was worth it.”

“It’s my favourite place for a reason,” she grins. “I’m glad you liked it. It was...really nice, you know. Being there with you.”

He smiles brightly at her, but still teases, because he’s still Jake, “I bet you say that to all the guys, Santiago.”

Her heart flutters as she comes to the realization that she’s never brought a boyfriend there. Even in relationships longer than this one, relationships that looked better on paper, she’s never considered taking a guy to her little oasis in the bustling city. It’s too sacred to be tainted by memories of an ex-boyfriend when the relationship comes to an end.

But she didn’t run through the worst-case scenarios before dragging Jake down Fifth this morning. She didn’t even consider the possibility that she might break up with him, because - subconsciously or otherwise - she wants this to last...for a long time.

(She’s reluctant to use the F word, but “forever” doesn’t even sound that scary right now.)

“You’re actually the first,” she confesses, the words tumbling out of her mouth before her brain can decide whether or not this is information she really wants to share with him.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”

Emboldening herself by sitting up straighter, her hand tightly wrapping around his where it rests on her thigh, she nods her head.

“Really. I’ve never felt like taking any of my past boyfriends there.”

His tone remains light and curious, but he holds her hand just as tightly and she can see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows nervously. “Why not?”

“I guess cause I...” She bites her lip, forcing herself to look him directly in the eye. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Amy knows she’s just dropped a bomb, one big enough to blow up a relationship this new. She shouldn’t be surprised by the way Jake’s face falls completely and he loosens his grip on her hand, and yet it’s the most soul-crushing, life-destroying thing in the world that he might not be falling for her as hard and as quickly as she is for him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - that was a lot-”

“No!” Jake exclaims, his eyes widening as she pulls away from him and shifts to the other side of the couch. “No, Ames, oh my god, I was just surprised - I obviously feel the same way.”

His words pull her back from the verge of bursting into tears and running out the door, his hands warm and reassuring as they grip hers.

“You do?”

“Are you kidding me, Santiago?” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head with evident adoration. “I pined for you for over a year, I wanted to give up my job to be with you after six days of dating. I drank Orangina for you, babe.”

She smiles, both at his overly dramatic face of disgust and the ease with which he slips between calling her “Santiago” and “babe” these days.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t obvious, but I’ve definitely never felt like this before,” he assures her. “I almost let a perp escape the other day because a car drove by playing that Coldplay song you like and I got distracted.”

Amy laughs softly, her hand sliding up his arm and shoulder to cup the pack of his neck and draw him in for a slow kiss. When she pulls away, his reassuring smile has faded into the passionate gaze she only gets to bear witness to in certain precious moments - right after sex, when the world seems to consist of only them; after particularly mind-blowing kisses like this one; when she brings him a coffee at work and kisses his cheek while nobody’s watching.

“Glad we’re on the same page then, Peralta,” she murmurs reverently, her hand sliding up his thigh and squeezing lightly.

It’s enough to convey the message that she wants him here and now. He pulls her closer, diving back in to kiss her immediately; she responds in turn by climbing into his lap and straddling his thighs, slowly rolling her hips against his. He breaks the kiss as a moan escapes him, his desperate hands tugging her sweater over her head and tossing it on the floor.

He’s predictably distracted by the lacy black bra she wore specifically for him, so she takes advantage of the moment to peel off his grey t-shirt and run her hands over his bare shoulders and biceps.

“Mm, we should go to the bed,” Amy mumbles half-heartedly between the kisses he’s leaving on her neck, trailing down to the zone not visible in work clothes where she lets him mark her skin. “You didn’t spend all that money on a new mattress for us to have sex on your couch.”

He keeps kissing her, sliding the straps of her bra down, and gently pushes her down against the couch cushions until he’s hovering over her, every inch of his body pressed against hers.

“Not yet.”

His lips travel down her stomach and her thighs start tingling with anticipation, the thought of Jake going down on her enough to make her melt in even the most professional or serious moments - and it has, when her brain unfortunately chose to replay the events of her morning in a meeting with Captain Holt a few weeks ago - but he pauses.

“Jake, please-”

He cuts her off with a firm kiss to her lips, so passionate and intense that it makes her forget for a moment the activities at hand and her lust-driven train of thought and also everything else in the universe. It’s somehow also impossibly affectionate, his hand cupping her face while the other tangles in her hair. It’s both infinite and far too short, but once he pulls away she’s seeing stars that don’t disappear after her eyes slowly open.

“What was that for?” she asks quietly, her heart beating so loud that she’s sure he can feel it against his chest.

She’s not sure she’s ever been kissed like that in her life. Jake’s an incredible kisser, and though she at first partially attributed it to the emotional and physical buildup of wanting to do that for so long, he just seems to be getting better every time. His kisses are like pure magic, leaving her dazed and in awe.

“No reason.”

The reason, she suspects deep in her gut and will learn a few short months from now is accurate, is that they’re madly in love and can never get enough of each other.

But for now, she’s satisfied with kissing him again and letting him work more of his Jake Peralta magic.

#title from good intentions paving co by jnew of course!!#jake x amy #b99 fic #also this is fr how much my best friend made me walk when we went to nyc last year #it was v painful

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airi-p4 · 4 years

Text

Perfect asymmetry

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue

My fav. fic yet :)

Warning: Rated T for mild language

Warning 2: Includes art (1 simple totally SFW drawing)

Thanks to @livrever for the corrections!

Available in Ao3 too

____________________________________

It was late night and Juleka was crying in her room. Fortunately, or unfortunately, her room was shared with his brother, Luka, whom, having a trained ear from his music studies, could hear her sobbing clear and loud.

Luka was sleepy in his bed. He had been trying to sleep, but now he was internally debating if he should leave her sister alone or ask her what’s wrong. Kindness was one of his main traits, and he couldn’t deny he had a soft spot for his beautiful younger sister, so it didn’t take long for him to get out of his bed, stand up on his feet and move towards Juleka’s part of the room, crossing past the partitions that separated both areas.

“What’s wrong, Jules? Don’t cry please.” He said while looking at her curled up in her bed, in a fetal position using her pillow to hide her face.

“I… I’ll never be able to become a model anymore…” she managed to say between her crying hiccups.

“Don’t say that… You’re pretty, you know that. I’m sure you can be an excellent model. It’s your dream, right? You just have to be confident and trust yourself.” Luka sat on the bottom part of her bed, where her feet would be if she weren’t all curled up hugging her knees. He was stretching to pat Juleka’s head as he talked.

“No… I can’t… Not anymore…” she mumbled.

“Why? What happened? Tell me.” He had a soft smile on his face, and just that was enough to make Juleka relax a little.

“It’s embarrassing… I… I can’t be a model anymore because… because…” Juleka paused for some seconds. Luka was willing to listen to her closely and, with a welcoming look and slightly nodding, he encouraged Juleka to continue what she was saying. Trusting absolutely in her brother, Juleka continued talking in a very low voice. “My chest… my breast sizes… are different… They're not symmetrical at all…not pretty…”

‘Well, that was unexpected’, Luka thought. Nothing he could do about it except encourage her and try to make her feel better.

“Hey, Jules, it’s OK! I heard having different breast sizes happens to most women. I would say it’s pretty common! So, don’t overthink it, you’ll be fine as you are! Even Marinette’s are-” Luka gasped as he noticed his mistake, covering his mouth with his hand and looking away embarrassed. “Forget this last part. I just mean it’s OK, it’s normal and nothing that can crush your dream. So stop crying, OK? Just get some rest and you’ll feel better tomorrow”. He spoke nervously and faster than usual. Just as he stopped talking he kissed his sister's long purple hair before getting ready to take his leave “Sleep well”.

Luka stood up fast, in a rush to leave as soon as he could. But he found it impossible when Juleka rapidly grabbed his arm, VERY strongly, impeding him from moving farther. She had returned to a sitting position after his brother had kissed her hair, in order to stare fiercely into his brother’s eyes. Good thing she had stopped crying, but she had now a killer look on her face and Luka knew he was screwed.

“I’m not forgetting any of your spoken words. It’s your turn to explain to me now. HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MARINETTE’S BREAST SIZES!?”

Luka choked at how direct was the answer that came out of her sister’s mouth. He immediately got his brain cells working to think a way out of the mess he got caught in because of his slip of the tongue. An excuse (or a memory, to be accurate), didn’t last long to appear in his mind.

“You know, we went to the pool together some days ago and… I just noticed… You know, she was wearing that pink and black bikini… the…" Luka blushed at the memory as he paused "You know which one I mean…”

“Oh YES. The flashy one. No, the SEXY one. Of course I know. I couldn’t stop staring at her for a long while! No one who was there could! Not until you lend her your jacket to brush the pervs looks off! I’m thankful you did that, you know? She kind of made me feel like a horny girl. God, she looked so gorgeous!”

Luka couldn’t help it but to internally nod in agreement while his sister talked. But there was more talk coming, the type of talk that meant trouble to Luka and caught him unprepared.

“That’s why I know you are lying. Because I myself stared at Marinette long enough to memorize every detail of her beautifully sculpted body, from her toned abs, legs and arms, to her delicate hands, face, lips and ankles, and, of course, her beautifully round boobs she was almost exposing to everyone there! And you know what? That even with all that staring, I couldn’t notice any asymmetry in her body at ALL. So, don’t you dare to LIE to me. I’ll ask you again: HOW DO YOU KNOW MARINETTE’S BREAST SIZES?.”

“I- I don’t know, I just-…“. Luka had run out of ideas and immediately knew he had no escape. But he was too embarrassed to talk about Marinette’s chest with his sister. It just seemed wrong. But Juleka was not a patient girl and she was not willing to lose her time with an unclear answer.

“Look. I’ll ask you directly. DID YOU GRAB HER BOOBS, YES OR NO!?”

Luka choked. God, THAT really was a direct question. A hell of an embarrassing question. How is he supposed to say yes to that without sounding like a pervert? How is he supposed to give his sister details about how she made out with her close friend? Luka short-circuited at the thought, and Juleka wouldn’t give him any second to breathe, pressuring him further. He could notice she was grabbing his arm even stronger.

“ANSWER ME NOW!”

“OK, I did. I DID! I touched her breasts, OK!? That’s why I know there’s a slight size difference between them. That’s it, I answered you. Can I go now?” it was rare to see Luka impatient and flushed with red all over his face, but Juleka was not satisfied with that answer. She wanted to know more.

“Why? How? I need to know! Are they as soft as they look?”

“God, Juleka! Don’t ask me embarrassing things like that! I’m your brother! This could haunt me forever!” Luka had his arm still grabbed by his sister, but he used his remaining free hand to partially cover his face. “And hell yes, they’re even softer than they look…”. The musician couldn’t help but slightly smile at the memory. “Ugh… I feel like a pervert now… Don’t make me say this kind of thing, please!”.

“You know I can just ask her instead if you prefer… Or maybe I’ll ask her to let me touch them too… God, I would love to touch them…”

“Jules, NO!”

“Why? Is she your girlfriend? She isn’t as far as I know…” Luka seemed to have lost his usual cool. She got him just where she wanted.

“No… she isn’t my girlfriend. At least not yet? I think…? I mean- We really did have a private moment together but… I don’t know… I want to ask her tomorrow if she wants to date me but… What if she says no? God… I’m a mess and full of nervous. I don’t want to lose her…”

“You touched her boobs.”

“Well, that’s right but-”

“You grabbed them. And most likely massaged them. And with her permission, I assume. I know you wouldn’t do it otherwise” Juleka sounded partially angry and pretty confident.

“Well, that’s true but- “

“Did you kiss? God, don’t tell me you didn’t even kiss her before grabbing her boobs, ‘cause I’m going to punch you”

“No, I- I did… I kissed her. But even so-”

“Enough of ‘buts’! If there is a chance you are the reason she was wearing that fricking sexy bikini for at the pool, and I think there is a pretty likely, I’d say it’s pretty obvious she is more than INTERESTED in you. God, the oblivious girl didn’t even notice the pervs staring at her, she only looked at YOU and your embarrassed reactions!”

“Wait, really…? She did…? Are you sure, Juleka? ‘Cause I don’t want to be heartbroken again. Not after what happened with Adrien…”

Overconfidence wasn’t one of Luka’s main personality traits but, seeing him in such low spirits was unusual. He is mostly a positive boy, who is used to encourage people but not used to be encouraged. Good thing Juleka knew exactly how to handle him.

“JUST ASK HER OUT YOU IDIOT! My God… she let you kiss her and grab her boobs! What else do you need!? I’ll ask her out if you don’t!” Juleka’s voice wasn’t low anymore. She sounded angry and kind of… smitten?

“Wha-…!? Don’t you dare to sabotage your older brother! You’re interested in Rose!” Is she teasing me? Luka thought as he talked back to the girl.

“I’ve always had a thing for Marinette too, so I wouldn’t mind trying… If I’m lucky enough I could… you know… grab her BOOBS, maybe?” She couldn’t hide a chuckle as her teasing continued.

Luka, noticed her teasing and knew she wasn’t talking seriously, so he cooled down a little and decided to tease back, backfiring where it hurt her, but knowingly doing it avoiding any real damage. He smirked as he let his voice out.

“What the hell happened to your crying and your breast size complex, sis? I was supposed to be the one encouraging and cheering you up. Shouldn't we return to that topic? I can let you touch my chest too if you want...” Luka was talking in a sassy way, his hand over his chest.

“Ew, gross! But hey, you already did cheer me up! I’m in high spirits now! Thank you for telling me even perfection is not perfect. I feel way better now. And maybe, if she says yes tomorrow, which I’m sure she will, I’ll get to see your girlfriend’s boobs in the flesh. Don’t mind me if my hand slips and I ‘accidentally’ touch them sometime…”.

“I don’t know how I should feel about that…" Luka pouted "but I’m glad you feel better and that you’re not crying anymore.” He ended his words with a sincere smile on his face.

“You’re the best, Luka. Dumb, but still the best. Go get your girl tomorrow!”

Luka couldn’t tell if Juleka was serious or joking, but it could perfectly be both. At least she had a teasing but genuine smile on her face, and that made him feel relieved she was back to herself. She wouldn’t usually show her true self to anyone, not even her friends, so it made him happy she could express like that around him. He loved her laugh and, knew exactly how to summon it.

“YEAH! Bring it on! Rock and roll!” trying to imitate Jagged Stone’s accent, voice, tone and pose, Luka let out an unusually loud voice.

“OMG This is the worst imitation of Jagged Stone I’ve ever seen!! How can you be so bad at it!?”

Both siblings started laughing effusively, playing a little more their imitation games before going to sleep.

______________________________________________

The next day came peacefully as the light entered through the round windows of the cabins inside the Liberty, the houseboat Luka and Juleka lived in. Luka couldn’t sleep much due to his nervousness but rested well enough before waking up from the first rays of sunlight of the day. He woke up early and saw Juleka was waking up too, as the sun illuminated her pretty round face.

“Good morning,” Luka said.

“Good morning…” she was sleepy, but after remembering the previous night conversation with her brother, she immediately got cheerful and smiled at him as she got up out of bed. “Ready for today? Remember you’re not allowed to chicken out!” she teased him, giggling.

“Yes, yes… I know. I don’t want you to steal her from me” He smiled and giggled back at her, ruffling her hair. “I’ll make breakfast. Why don’t you get ready and prepare your things meanwhile?”

Juleka nodded and went to the bathroom. With their mother sleeping from the tiredness of her night-time job, Luka was normally the one in charge of the cooking. There was another reason for his cooking responsibility: the last time his mother cooked something the boat almost got incinerate, and Juleka was still terrified of fire after that life-threatening experience.

After the siblings peacefully finished eating their breakfast, Juleka was in charge of the dishes. They would always save some breakfast for Anarka, that Juleka made sure to wrap with transparent film. It was then Luka’s turn to get prepared for University. It was already his second year in Music Degree and he still couldn’t get used to it. He sometimes hated it, and sometimes loved it. He hated to ride the crowded metro at rush hour the most, but he loved composition lessons, which made it worth it. Perfection doesn’t exist, I guess… He thought, but then he was instantly reminded of Marinette, the girl he considered perfect in all aspects. ‘God bless cold showers’, he whispered before grabbing a towel.

Luka’s had to cross half of Paris by metro to reach his University. That meant he had to leave home way earlier than his sister and return later too. Still, with his delivery job to do, it would be late when he could actually get to see the girl he loved. And he still had to ask her if she wanted to meet today. Since he had some minutes left before leaving, he messaged the twin-tailed girl.

“Good morning, Marinette.”

“Could we meet today? I have to tell you something”

Marinette didn’t reply to him before he had to leave, so he only got more and more nervous. Juleka had told him she was probably still sleeping, but he was feeling uneasy. ‘Be positive’, he told himself. But classes started and there was still no reply from her, even if the ‘read’ signal was on. Negative thoughts kept his mind busy as classes went on. He would later need to ask his classmates to lend him their notes.

______________________________________________

Marinette panicked when she saw Luka’s message on her phone. ‘Is it time? Is it finally coming today? The long-awaited confession? Did he finally get my hints? God, I hope he’s not backing off and telling me he doesn’t want to see me ever again! I feel like I could die if he does!’

Marinette was in her last year of High School, but even being older now, she didn’t change much. Of course, she matured physically and mentally, but she had a WILD imagination that wouldn't let her act cool when it came to her crushes. And not only a crush, this time she was IN LOVE, which made things even worse. As her messy thoughts occupied her mind, she didn’t realize she still hadn’t written a reply to the boy she loved. And just like that, it became midday.

During lunchtime at High School, Juleka approached Marinette, who didn’t notice her: she was still immersed in her thoughts about a certain blue-haired boy.

“Good morning”

“Aah! Juleka, you startled me! Good morning” Marinette had jumped what seemed impossible from the surprise.

“What’s wrong? You seem down?” the purple-haired girl asked.

“It’s nothing…” she said while thinking about how she didn't have the courage to tell her about her older brother.

“Is it about Luka? He told me about… well… that.” she had some blush on her face, which made Marinette think of the worst possible scenario.

“WHAT DID HE TELL YOU!?”

Marinette's voice was very loud and it made all the students nearby turn around to look at the girls. She blushed and covered her mouth and the crowd rapidly lost their interest.

“Calm down, Marinette. What are you so nervous about? Haven’t you read my brother’s messages?” she asked her friend.

“I did! I’m meeting him today! He said he wants to tell me something! I- I- Do you know what it is? Tell me, please!”. Her arms were moving quickly, showing her nervousness.

“Marinette, you should have told me you cared so much about him. Wow, you two are really idiots. Take a look at this” Juleka reached her pocket and took out her smartphone, turning it on to show her friend the instant messenger app screen.

Luka: “Jules, Marinette hasn’t replied to my messages yet and I can't keep my cool anymore. I'm going crazy. Could you ask her during her free time to meet me at 9 PM at Pont des Arts, please?"

Juleka: “Leave it to me”

Luka: “Thank you, you’re the best”

"Wait. I thought I had replied!?" The girl switched on her smartphone to check her messages with Luka and noticed she had never really replied. "OMG how can I be so stupid!? I’m scared. Should I really go??" Marinette was being her panicking self, saying nonsense, according to Juleka, who was already tired from their useless fears.

"OMG not you too! Give me this". She snatched her friend's mobile phone and messaged her brother as if she was Marinette:

Marinette: “Message received from Juleka. I’ll be there.”

"Done" Juleka said, tossing the smartphone back to her friend.

"What have you done!? Now I have no excuse for not going! I can't make him wait and I have to get ready! OMG I have to wash my hair and choose my clothes and… so many things! I'm scared..."

Marinette's rambles were her usual type, so Juleka decided to ignore them and focus her efforts on the couple, trying to help them out.

"Marinette, I assure you nothing bad will come of that. You already kissed, didn’t you? It will be ok, you'll see” Juleka was smiling both teasingly and honestly.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT!?" Attention from all students was on her again, as she blushed and hid her face. Her friend continued talking.

"Marinette, it will be fine, I assure you it will. Luka is not like Adrien, you know that. Everything’s gonna be alright. Trust me” Juleka's confidence and soft smile made Marinette calm down and feel better immediately.

"Thank you Juleka, you’re the best! Let me know if there’s anything I can ever do for you!"

Marinette's eyes were sparkling while she took her friend's hands into hers in a grateful way. A little blush formed on the long-haired girl's cheeks, as she smiled. Then, her smile became a smirk. 'Anything, huh?', she thought.

"Well… there’s one thing..."

______________________________

It was 7:40 PM when Luka finished his delivery errands. He would usually finish 20 minutes later, but he rushed his bike in order to finish earlier. The extra effort left him sweating and exhausted, but thanks to that, he would be able to go home and take a shower before meeting Marinette.

His nervousness hasn't stopped for any second during that day. He was scheming and considering which one could be the best way to convey his feelings. He wanted them to reach the girl's heart, in a pure and sincere way. It's not like this was his first time confessing to her, but this time was different: he was going to ask her for an answer. He wanted to ask her to be his girlfriend and only two possible answers were in the picture: YES or NO. He tried not to think about the next step after that. Juleka was encouraging him to be positive, so he couldn't afford to lose to pessimistic ideas.

When Luka finished taking a shower it was already 8:25 pm. He felt bad for calling on a girl so late at night, but he couldn't wait any longer, and, since it was early June, he knew the sun would still be out. He wouldn't have chosen this time to meet her otherwise. He didn't want her to walk alone at night around Paris dangerous streets.

The place of the meeting was strategically chosen too: close to Marinette's house and even closer to Luka's houseboat, where he still lived.

He had been planning to rent an apartment for himself for a while, but he didn't want to share it and, finding a good apartment on a budget that he could afford in Paris was almost impossible. Because of that, he still hadn't moved away from his mother's boathouse, but he was getting impatient to go live on his own: sharing a room with his sister at his age wasn't healthy for him anymore, even if he loved and enjoyed being with his sister and mother. You know, men’s needs.

As soon as Luka finished getting ready, he put a slim jacket and some cologne on, made sure his hair was looking good, and brushed his teeth. He wanted to arrive earlier than Marinette so she wouldn't have to wait for him, so he left home 15 minutes early, in order to arrive 10 minutes earlier than the accorded meeting time.

When Luka arrived at Pont Des Arts, Marinette hadn't arrived yet. Some tourists were still strolling around, mainly couples, but the approach of nighttime made them leave little by little. Dinner time was on too, so the chosen time was beneficial in that aspect too. He wouldn't like to have public when he confesses, especially if it ends up with a rejection. 'No negative thinking, damn it'.

Time felt like it wasn't passing for Luka. His nervousness was consuming him, so he decided to grab his guitar and play a little to calm himself down. He didn't succeed, and soon people had approached to listen to him. Some even tossed some coins inside his guitar case.

It was 9 pm and Marinette hadn't arrived. 'Late as always' he thought. But then it was 9:10, 9:15, 9:20... and nothing, still no sign of her. He had been playing his guitar while he waited, but as it was getting too dark, the remaining people had decided to leave. He had only stopped playing when the big arrow was pointing down on his watch.

After returning the guitar inside its case he gazed at the river, losing hope of the girl coming anymore. He wondered if he should throw himself into the river, but the view was nice and he stood up on one of the lower parts of the fence to have a better look of the water of the Seine.

"Luka!!! Nooo!!! Don't do it!!"

Marinette came rushing towards the surprised but extremely happy boy, who was also confused by her words. She ran as fast as she could in her high heels until she lost her balance, spin on her right foot and almost bumping into the fence of the bridge, and almost falling down if it hadn't been for Luka, who placed his hands over her hips and pulled her towards him to miraculously avoid any collision. Luka's pull was so desperate he couldn't control his strength and Marinette fell on him.

Marinette was panting hard from her run. She was on top of Luka, who was on the floor, sitting but almost laying down. Marinette was very close. He could tell she had spent a lot of time styling herself: clothes, hair, and makeup. And even if the race there had messed up her hair, she looked more beautiful than ever.

"You look beautiful," he said.

Marinette suddenly blushed, looking down in embarrassment… only to find the boy's hips under her, with something standing out (literally) and she couldn't take her eyes away from it. The blush on her face couldn't be redder.

"OMG I'M SO SORRY!!" she was screaming while she got up. "I'm so sorry for making you wait… I was styling myself and… I didn’t notice the time... and… all for nothing… it's ruined now…" she looked genuinely sad. "But don't throw yourself to the river, please! I don't think I could live without you! I need you!" she desperately added.

Luka had already stood up from the floor and was staring at the girl in front of him. Marinette had begged, with crying eyes ruining her makeup, for him to live for her, and he was astonished. She had just told him she couldn't live without him and that she needs him. Marinette gasped flustered in red as she noticed her words and Luka couldn't shut his mouth out of the surprise.

"Marinette, what did you say right now? Do you really mean it...?" Marinette shyly nodded, face looking to her feet. "Is it ok for me to think of it in an egoistic way… I mean… Is it ok for me to have hope...with you?" Marinette's eyes were meeting his now, opened as plates as she nodded shyly. That little nod gave Luka all the courage he needed.

"Marinette, I love you. I can't live without you either. Please, be my girlfriend."

Luka had a serious but slightly shy look on his face. A mix of happiness, embarrassment, surprise and hope. On the other hand, Marinette couldn't stop her grin from growing wider on her face.

"Yes!! Finally!!!" She said, completely excited. "I thought you would never ask. I was afraid you didn't feel the same for me after those years and I've been trying to impress you and I've been so desperate recently I can't believe it myself and-"

Luka's face only grinned his happiness as she mumbled things he couldn't hear. "Marinette" he finally called her. "Look".

The sun was already setting and a beautiful sunset had formed and reflected on the river.

"Isn't it pretty?" Said the boy, turning his face slightly over her.

"Yes… so pretty…"

Orange colors were all over their view, their eyes and faces matching with the color of the sky. Luka then took Marinette's hand softly, and linked hands with her as they enjoyed the view. After a few minutes, the light was replaced by the one from the streetlights.

"Sorry I called you so late. I wish I could spend more time with you, but it's already this dark. I don't want your parents to worry…What kind of boyfriend would I be?" Luka said, still trying to assimilate his own words.

"It's ok, Luka. We have a whole life to spend together. I'm your girlfriend now and I hope that when I'm not anymore, it's only because I've become your fiance, and then your wife. I love you and I can't live without you. I really mean it."

Marinette was smiling softly and Luka was stunned by her. Not only she had confessed first, but she also shared his same feelings. He couldn't help it but feel extremely happy but also a little stupid for his passivity and negativity.

"I feel so stupid. Not only you confessed to me first when I was the one who called you here with that purpose, but you also talk as if you have stolen my words from my mouth. I feel exactly the same, Marinette. I love you. I've loved you since the first time we met and I hadn't stop loving you since then. Thank you for becoming my girlfriend. It means everything to me".

The new couple was smiling softly and Luka finally leaned in to kiss his girlfriend. It was a romantic kiss filled with pure love, leaving butterflies inside their stomachs and giving them electric vibrations on their lips. With darkness surrounding them, their senses intensified, making them feel like only them were existing in the world.

When they separated, both of them wanted to kiss again, but they were aware of the time, so they decided to hold their feelings back for now.

"I'll walk you home," said the boy, lending the girl his jacket. His girlfriend nodded in response.

They walked hand in hand to Marinette's home, while she talked about how disappointed she was she styled up for nothing and could have made better use of that time if she had arrived on time to their meeting. Luka could only smile at her rambles, thinking about how he had never been this happy in his whole life.

After kissing 'goodbye, see you tomorrow', Marinette went inside her house from the back door and Luka returned home with a smile he couldn't hide on his face.

_________________________________

Luka arrived home after a long day. He was physically exhausted, but his mind was floating in Loveland. Juleka received his brother at his arrival, as Anarka had already left to work.

"Welcome back," the little sister said, before giving him a fast scan. "I was going to ask you how it went, but your stupid grin is obvious enough. Eww, disgusting!”. She stuck her tongue out for a second before continuing “Congratulations on getting a girlfriend" she smiled, secretly happy for his brother.

"Thanks, Jules. I just can't believe it. Marinette is extraordinary. She's sweet, honest, and surprising. God and she is beautiful and her lips are made of magic..."

"Eww! Enough! Stop daydreaming about your girlfriend, skip the sugar when you talk to me. Let's talk about important things: you know you owe me one, right?" Juleka smirked as she teased her brother.

"Juleka, I owe you one. You're the best! Come here". Luka gave his sister a hug full of gratitude and fraternal love, which Juleka loved but would never recognize it all loud to anyone. Even less to Luka. She started to tease him in order to hide her feelings.

"Hey, Luka. You know? It's a B" she said.

"Pardon?" Luka blinked rapidly at the randomness of her sister’s words.

“Marinette. She wears a B cup” she specified.

"Of course you would know that just from looking…and you are a girl so..." Luka pouted a little for breaking the magic of their sibling hug.

*And listen, her actual sizes are…" Juleka had grabbed his brother's upper arms and made him go down a little, so she could whisper certain numbers to his ear. She let go of him and smirked when she became quiet.

“JULEKA. HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?" Said Luka loudly, losing his usual cool. The blue-eyed boy opened his eyes surprised and grabbed his sister's upper arms so he could look her face to face.

“What can I say? You were right! There’s a slight difference between them” she sighed as she smirked.

"OMG Juleka you grabbed my girlfriend’s breasts!? You betrayer!" Luka couldn't hide his shock.

"She wasn’t your girlfriend yet and she was in debt with me. Of course, I would take the chance" the long-haired girl explained with a victorious grin on her face.

"JULEKA COUFFAINE YOU’RE NOT GETTING CLOSE TO MY GIRLFRIEND AGAIN!" He warned her, part joking, as he knew his sister was just teasing him.

"Too bad we’re meeting tomorrow… Maybe I’ll get to explore something more… You know: benefits of being a 'girl friend'" Juleka licked her lips teasingly after finishing her words and Luka choked.

"Don’t you dare touch my girlfriend, you traitor!". Luka frowned.

"I'm can’t promise you anything."

Luka thought of how Juleka was always able to make him lose his cool with her teasing and Juleka loved messing with her brother. They both knew she was just joking, as she only had eyes for Rose, but they enjoyed the fun.

And with that, one more day of giggles filling their shared room and houseboat ended. But this one was extra memorable: for their bonds as siblings, and with Marinette too, got stronger than ever. All thanks to a pair of beautiful small soft round pair of B sized breasts and a girl’s complex.

_____________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed this, because I’m already working on the prequel :)

#my fic #airipyon #airip4 #lukanette fic #fic: perfect asymmetry #lukanette endgame #I hope you enjoyed this #thanks for reading

28 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Wonders of Ohio P.2

masterlist request guidelines jesus christ this story just flows off the fingertips

pairing: draco x muggle!reader

request: from 14 year old me

summary: instead of having a traditional senior year of high school, american y/n is roped into hosting a british exchange student who is...a bit strange.

warnings: cursing and draco being cold and sad :(

a/n: i’m doing it guys! i’m managing my time! and also i really like writing this for some reason...maybe because i can do shameless self insertion. also sorry for going on “hiatus” and then posting...when i said “hiatus” i really meant “i’m only going to write fics that are easy right now”

tags! @accio-rogers @eltanin-malfoy @geeksareunique

word count: 2,028

music recs: alright by supergrass, killer queen from queen

The Y/L/N household wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t a mansion by any definition. There was a guest bed and bath right across from Y/N’s room and bathroom, but that was about it for visitors--no drawing room, no library, no large dining room, no parlor. Her family had hailed from a wealthier family, but after the stock market crash and subsequent policy changes, they had moved out to Ohio and settled down for a proper middle class lifestyle.

Draco Malfoy was clearly unimpressed by the spectacle, and he made his opinion entirely obvious as they moved from room to room of their home, his forest green cloak nearly sweeping the ground next to his dress shoes and his nose upturned.

“And this is your room,” Y/N said. She opened the door, standing by it in a desperate attempt to sell the idea. “I know it’s probably not as big as you’re used to, but you get your own bathroom, so that’s nice.”

Draco stared at her with nothing but disgust written across his face.

“I’ll leave you be,” said Y/N, noticing how hostile he was being. “If you need anything, I’m right across the hall. Don’t hesitate to ask. You’re not the first exchange student, and while I’ve never personally been one, I can understand more than you’d expect.”

He laughed at this, though there was no humor behind it. He seemed dead set on staying silent. Frustrated by his lack of response, Y/N snatched his arm and yanked him inside his room, shutting the door behind them and ignoring how violently he ripped himself away from her.

“Allow me to be honest,” she said softly, unable to meet him in the eyes. “I don’t really want an exchange sibling this year. It doesn’t seem like you want to be one, right?”

“Your point?” His voice was clipped and unenthused.

“My point is that I’m going to leave you completely alone unless you want to be friends, which I don’t think you’re interested in at all. If you want a, uh, friend, I’ll be here for you, but I’m not gonna push it.”

She looked at him, noting how he had backed himself into the corner, his jaw clenched tight.

“I have a feeling there’s a lot that my mom isn’t telling me about why you’re here, but I guess that’s alright. We’re happy to have you anyways. I’m gonna go now, have a nice nap. And, I, uh, I meant what I said. About being friends if you want us to. It’s probably lonely to be so far away from home, so if there’s anything I can do...” Y/N swallowed, cutting her ramble short. “See you later. I’m gonna go out for a bit.”

He simply nodded, walking over to his bed and sitting down on it awkwardly. Y/N curiously took notice of the fact that he hadn’t so much as touched a phone since they had met. But he was rich...so he had to have one.

She nodded back, exiting the door and making her way to the front door. She needed to get out.

<^>

“He kind of seems like your type though,” Lizzy said, propping her chin up on her palm. “Platinum blonde? Blue eyes? Broody and unapproachable?”

“Literally stop it,” Y/N retorted, rolling up to get another handful of popcorn. “He’s so sick of us already, I can feel it. This is just going to be a question of how long we can tolerate each other.”

“Whatever you say, girly,” she said. “When do we all get to meet him? Do you have to take him to orientation on Wednesday?”

“You might see him on the first day of school, or maybe you can come over before that. And, yeah, I think my mom wants me to go with him.” Y/N frowned, her nose crinkling. “Which totally sucks. I’m gonna have to get up early to hang around freshman.”

“That’s fair. I could come with you, if you’d like?”

“You don’t need to do that, I can handle him,” said Y/N. “But you should come over tomorrow, we can try and get him to go out on the town with us or something.”

“That sounds fun, but I can’t go, I’m sorry,” said Lizzy. “Tuesdays are bad for me. And plus, I have to finish the physics summer homework.”

“Ugh, me too,” Y/N groaned, flopping onto Lizzy’s bed. “I never should’ve gone in for a second year. Physics is gonna be the death of me.”

“Speaking of death...” Lizzy leaned over to look at the clock. “I feel like it right now. I had a bad night...I was up late talking to Jonathan again, you know. I’m really tired. Let’s plan to meet up this Thursday? Before school?”

“Oooh, Jonathan.” Y/N grinned at her, wiggling her eyebrows. “I expect a full update on that later. I’ll go home then and start on physics, then.”

They finished saying their goodbyes, and Y/N stepped out into the early September night, the air still warm with the last of summer.

<^>

When she arrived home, she was immediately met by her mother, who motioned for her to come into the kitchen, a finger poised to her lips.

“What is it, Mom?” Y/N asked, keeping her voice a hushed whisper. “Is he still sleeping or something?”

“No, I think he’s taking a shower right now. His luggage came just before you, so he told me he was going to unpack it.” Mrs. Y/L/N poured some leftover coffee into a mug, stirring half & half in the brown drink. “I just wanted to let you know something and check in. You can’t tell anyone about this, alright? Not even Lizzy. Do you promise?”

“Yes, of course I promise!”

“Shh. Okay.” Her mother took a sip from the mug and took a seat at the cheery yellow coffee table. “I was just given more information on Draco’s situation back home. It looks like it was much worse than we were originally told.”

“How bad?”

“Quiet, Y/N. But, yes, very bad. His father is imprisoned in some foreign facility where no familial contact is allowed.”

Y/N gasped. “What?”

“And it doesn’t look like he’s every getting out,” Mrs. Y/L/N finished, stirring her drink even though the milk was already evenly distributed. “He doesn’t seem very nice, and I suspect that that’s an accurate depiction of his character, but promise me that you’ll be nice to him. The boy has been through enough already, and that’s only concerning the things we know.”

“Is there more, do you think?”

“I know there’s more,” Mrs. Y/L/N answered darkly. “I’ve asked questions that they refuse to answer. But his personal experience back home is none of our concern. What matters now is that we give him a good place to stay while everything else is figured out.”

Y/N, speechless, fell into the chair next to her mother and reached out for the coffee mug.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t let you drink this at night,” her mother chastised.

“You sound like you’re talking about a dog,” Y/N said. She took a small sip, setting the cup back down and sliding it over before her mother could give her any more lip. In doing so, she caught a glimpse of movement in the doorway, just out of her line of sight. Curious, she turned her head and promptly met a pair of very stormy grey eyes.

“Oh...H-hey, Draco,” Y/N greeted, plastering a smile across her face. “How long have you, uh, been here?” Her mother lightly kicked her shin under the table.

The blonde was propped up against the doorway, his hair looking almost grey with the water it was dripping. “I was just coming down to ask for a glass of water.”

“Oh, of course!” Mrs. Y/L/N was on her feet before Y/N knew it, bustling towards the cabinets. “You don’t even need to ask next time. The glasses are in here, and the water’s in the fridge...and of course there’s Y/N’s cabinet of tea here...”

“Mom!” Y/N butted in, her cheeks flaming. “You can’t just stereotype him like that!”

“Hush, you have more than enough to go between the two of you.”

“That’s not the point!”

Draco was still leaned on the door, watching the interaction like one might watch a particularly boring color of paint dry.

“Would you like some tea, Draco?” asked Mrs. Y/L/N.

He turned to look Y/N right in the eyes, a smirk forming across his face. “Yes. Thank you for asking.”

Y/N glared at her mother and strode over to the drawer, motioning for Draco to come too. “Pick whatever you want. I’m relieved to know that my mother’s cultural insensitivity didn’t offend you.”

“Now, when did I say that?” Draco drawled, towering over her as he flicked through the various packages of loose leaf teas.

“Draco, I offer my most heartfelt apologies if I have,” her mother said, her voice becoming more distant as she walked out of the room. “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to call your father to arrange his pickup at the airport tomorrow. Goodnight!”

Y/N was left to awkwardly stand next to Draco as he was preoccupied with the selections available. It felt wrong to leave him alone--he didn’t even know where the kettle was kept--but at the same time, it was very uncomfortable to stand next to him in silence.

“I know about your father.”

The sentiment rushed out of her mouth before she could stop it, and the second she had done so, she knew it was a mistake. Draco’s entire body tensed up, his hands now frozen.

“What about my father?” His voice was harsh, but the beauty of his accent was not left on Y/N.

“I mean,” she rushed out, “I’m sorry to hear what happened. I only heard that he was being held in a facility without any contact to you or your mother...and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that that had to happen to you.”

He frowned, plucking a bag of tea and throwing it on the counter.

“And I know that there are things that I’ll never understand,” she continued, “But I guess I kind of get what it’s like to not have a father. Mine’s gone all the time on business. But it’s not like he’s in pris--Yeah, you know what, nevermind. I don’t understand. But if you ever need someone to talk to...”

She trailed off, noticing how murderous his look was and swallowed. “Yeah, uh, if you ever want someone--”

“You’re here? I understood it the first time, thank you,” he clipped. “Where’s your kettle?”

Y/N pointed to the cabinet below the drawer. “Right below the tea, if it’s not being cleaned.” She thought she did a very good job at pretending like what he said didn’t hurt.

Draco snatched the kettle and filled it with water before puzzling over the stove.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s a little confusing for the first time,” Y/N said, darting next to him and demonstrating how to flick it on. She acted like she didn’t notice him flinch at the close proximity. “And mugs are by the glasses, but I’m sure you saw that..before. Uh, anyways.”

She gulped again, stepping away from him to lean nonchalantly on the table behind her. “Your parents let you get a tattoo?” Desperate to change the subject, she pointed to the tiny peek of ink on his left arm, exposed by his jumper riding up.

He stiffened up, and Y/N knew that she had once again made a mistake.

“No. They didn’t.”

“So you just did it on your own accord? That’s pretty metal.”

“I don’t have a tattoo,” he snapped, yanking his sleeve down. He seemed to take the time to collect himself again, drawing in a long and shaky breath. “And if I may be so bold to ask, can I enjoy my tea alone?”

“Uh..yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry about that.” Forget that Y/N didn’t know exactly what she was apologizing for (existing in her own kitchen?), she wanted to get out of that situation. “Goodnight, Draco.”

He sent her an irritated glance in return.

final a/n: ohhh gee i sprained my ankle really badly and now i literally can’t walk so you know what that means...more fic

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x oc #harry potter imagine

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smallmediumproblems · 4 years

Link

The archive could never be empty.

It was an unwritten rule of the Magnus Institute, and it was about the only thing that gave Michael Shelley comfort while working there. There was always the possibility of researchers to help, statements to take, visitors to welcome, and occasional officers of the law to politely but firmly turn away. Michael hadn’t encountered the last category himself yet, nor taken a live statement, but he was well informed of the procedures. This wasn’t his first time being left alone in the archive. The department needed someone to be its face as much as it needed a heart or a head.

For most of Michael’s time there, that someone had been Eric Delano. He hadn’t had the same rigorous curiosity that drew Gertrude and Emma (and, by association, Michael) out of their workplace. Instead, he had been more than happy to spend the day actually getting work done in the office, puttering through the shelves while the others were out. There was something domestic about it that Michael always found pleasant. Like having someone to come home to. He liked to think that he provided that to others now that the role was his.

Which is why, when he found a young man sparking at a cigarette in the main office, his first reaction was to put on a smile.

“Excuse me?” Michael said brightly. The young man - really, he was a boy, if a very tall one - the boy looked up with no particular amount of alarm. “I’m sorry, you can’t really smoke in here.”

The boy looked skeptical, but stowed his lighter. “Uh-huh. D’you work here or something?”

“Yes, my name’s Michael,” Michael informed him. “I’m one of the archival assistants. Can I help you find something?”

“Sure,” said the boy, “I’m looking for Gertrude.”

As Michael approached, he got a better look at his guest, from the shoulder-length black hair to a long black duster jacket that didn’t really match the weather outside. His boots were planted firmly on either side of a shoebox. The cardboard had been reinforced to an almost comical extent, ribbed with strips of duct tape and bearing a haphazard line of staples along the edge of the lid. It looked like it had been sat on at some point.

“She’s not in at the moment,” said Michael. “If you need to drop that off, I can put it on her desk and tell her you came by. What’s your name?”

“Err… Gerry, but I shouldn’t leave this unsupervised,” Gerry said nervously. As he spoke, a soft thump came from inside the box at his feet.

“Is something in there?” asked Michael. His voice jumped up about half a very alarmed octave.

“Well, yeah,” said Gerry, who seemed more perturbed by Michael than whatever was in the box. “What, you thought I just brought her an empty box?”

“No, I- something alive,” Michael protested.

Gerry puffed out his cheeks with an exaggerated sigh. “Wow. That’s actually a really neat philosophical question. I’m gonna say no, for most textbook definitions of ‘alive.’”

“Something moving, then,” said Michael. He took a step forward, and Gerry leaned away as though he wanted to retreat but was rooted to the spot around his charge. “Why don’t we get that somewhere more secure? Whatever it is, I’m sure artefact storage will know how to keep it safe until Gertrude gets here.”

Gerry eyed him suspiciously. This was a new experience for Michael, who had long since resigned himself to looking like the kind of person who confused strangers could approach for directions.

“...fine,” said Gerry, “Just don’t touch it, alright?”

“That is more than alright with me,” said Michael. Even he knew better than to touch foreign objects in the Archive. He stood at a safe distance as Gerry awkwardly managed to pick up the box without relinquishing his stance.

Gerry stared at it for a long moment.

He shook it slightly in place.

He flipped it over to reveal a large hole torn in the bottom.

“Well, shit,” he concluded, "You wouldn't happen to know what time Gertrude's coming back, would you?"

"Not for another hour, I think," said Michael. He peered inside the box to see that the inside had been padded with some sort of steel wool. It was smeared with a dark, glistening substance that might have been blood. Something inside smelled like an electrical fire.

“Great!” Gerry said brightly. “That means we’ve got one hour to find the thing before she comes back and kills me.”

“What exactly did you bring in here?” Michael demanded.

“Funny story, that. It acts like something Dark, but it’s more along the lines of Beholding,” Gerry explained. Seeing Michael’s blank look, he changed tactics. “Ahh. You’re that assistant. Tell you what: It’s a little hard to describe. You should probably just look behind you.”

This backfired somewhat, as Michael let out a yelp and immediately crashed into Gerry when he whirled around. Across the room, something darted into a wastepaper bin and upturned it over itself, hissing angrily.

“What was th-”

“Keep your eyes on it,” Gerry screeched, “I don’t bloody know what it’s called, now get off!” He struggled to navigate Michael’s flailing limbs until they were both standing. Michael stared dutifully at the overturned bin, waiting for some noise, some movement, some indication of threat.

“I didn’t get a good look at it,” he said rather aimlessly, “It moved like a… rat? Or a lizard? But the legs were wrong, how- how does it have legs like that?”

Even that wasn’t accurate to what he’d seen. His mind scrabbled at physical descriptors that didn’t quite fit, and quickly settled into more visceral ones. The thing in the bin looked like the sensation of finding one more step than you expected at the bottom of the stairs. It looked like the silhouette of the laundry bin just after the lights were turned out, transformed into something monstrous and alien.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Gerry cautioned him. “The only people who know what it looks like are really, really dead. What it is isn’t important, it’s where it is.”

Michael was not comforted by the fact that it had managed to find an even more flimsy containment than a cardboard box with some metal in it

“Okay,” said Michael, “Okay, what does that mean?”

Gerry grimaced at the bin, unwilling to break his gaze for a proper eye-roll.

“It means,” he said slowly, “That it’s where we think it is, until it isn’t. You saw it go under there, right?”

“Right…?”

“And as long as we don’t see it leave, it’s still there, right?”

“...right.”

“But if we look away, then we can’t see whether it’s left, so it could be anywhere.”

“So we’re hunting… Schroedinger’s lizard-rat,” Michael summarized. The bin gave a taunting little rattle to punctuate his statement.

“Sure, brilliant,” said Gerry. “You should write a book.”

“Hang on, does that mean you used me as bait?” Michael asked.

“How d’you mean?” Gerry replied. There was a hint of a smile in his voice that answered the question.

“When you told me to look behind me,” said Michael. “It wasn’t actually there, was it?”

There was a short pause. Michael wished that he could have looked sternly over at Gerry.

“It was there after you looked,” said Gerry. “If it makes you feel any better, you saved us loads of time trying to find it. Plus, like, some moderate to severe skin lacerations.”

“Great,” Michael said glumly.

“Speaking of which, have you got any knives?”

“No?” Michael exclaimed. “I mean, not personally.”

“What-?”

“Probably in the break room, alright?” said Michael. “We’ve got one for cutting birthday cakes, I don’t know if it’s sharp enough to- Are, are you planning to kill that thing?”

“Yeeeeah,” Gerry said, drawing the word out reluctantly. “I was really hoping to show it to Gertrude. It’s right weird and I figured she’d be interested. Probably not so much if it’s loose in her office. You go get that knife, I’ll stay here with the liz-rat.”

“No!” Michael protested. “No, what if it gets out? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

That threw him off guard. “It’s totally safe. As long as I’ve got my eyes on it, I’m good.”

“But-” Michael took a second to try and come up with an argument. “It’s already escaped once. N-no offense, but- But what’s going to happen if it escapes again? What if you need help?”

“Hey,” said Gerry, “Look at me.”

“Um-”

“Nope, right, don’t look. Listen,” he continued. He sounded like he was trying to be reassuring but not very practiced in it. “Listen to me. I’m good. I’ve wrestled worse stuff. Go get me a knife, and I’ll prove it to you.”

Michael kept his eyes on the bin until he had to turn towards the break room.

He wasn’t sure why he’d argued. Gerry seemed to know what he was doing, enough to explain while he was doing it. And shouldn’t Michael be mad that this strange young man used him as bait? The thing was, though, that he was quite young. As Michael rummaged quickly through the silverware drawers, he wished he could convince himself that maybe Gerry just didn’t look his real age. Maybe he was imagining the teenaged squeak in his voice. His stomach had begun to churn at the idea of leaving him alone with a monster, and now that he had done it, he couldn’t help but picture himself returning to the main room to find the creature missing and Gerry bleeding out on the floor.

As Michael’s hand closed on a large kitchen knife, something crashed to the floor from the main room, followed by a string of curses. Michael bolted for the door to find Gerry standing on top of his desk looking frantically around him.

“What happened?”

“Damn thing cheated,” Gerry muttered. He looked up at Michael and gestured accusingly into thin air. “I heard it halfway across the room, and it buggered off when I turned to look.”

“Did it hurt you?” asked Michael. Gerry stopped being frustrated and embarrassed for long enough to look genuinely surprised that Michael cared.

“No,” he said, “I’m fine. Pass me the knife, alright?”

Michael formulated a plan on his way to the desk. Despite what he feared was popular consensus, he was not a stupid man. He just ended up missing a lot of information he needed to make smart decisions. It was his own fault, really, for not asking better questions, or maybe for not paying enough attention. He wasn’t sure. It was part of the reason he’d gone into research in the first place, which he’d been informed was yet another of his not very smart decisions. As he handed the knife over to Gerry, he resolved to make this time turn out differently.

He cocked his head sharply and grabbed the wastepaper bin. Gerry tensed, raising the knife.

“What, what is it?”

“Shh,” Michael said with easily twice as much confidence as he actually had. He approached one of the other desks, turning so that Gerry couldn’t see his face. Then, with a deep, bracing breath, he closed his eyes.

“Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I heard something,” he lied. He surreptitiously nudged at the desk with his foot until he found the corner. “I think it’s- there!”

He dove to the ground, slamming the bin over something that was probably there. His eyes snapped open in time to catch Gerry vaulting off of his desk towards him, knife poised at the ready. Quickly, Michael began to shake the bin as if something was trapped underneath. He worried that his expression wasn’t quite panicked enough, but honestly he was starting to panic simply because he couldn’t tell what Gerry thought of his acting.

Something that was very suddenly under the bin growled. Michael’s brain went sort of blank for a second; later, he would remember freezing up and screaming something that may have been words. He was briefly aware when the knife plunged directly between his hands, and when something else started screaming along with him, but the next thing he remembered after that was blood spurting from the bin like a clogged fountain pump, and something inside making a noise to match. He nearly screamed again when a hand settled on his shoulder.

“Deep breaths,” Gerry cautioned him. Michael took some deep breaths. “It’s alright, you can look now.”

“Is it-” Michael’s gaze snapped immediately to Gerry’s face. “Did you-”

“Yep,” Gerry confirmed. He wiggled the knife proudly, splattering around some of the blood that coated the lower half. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the moment, but Michael nearly felt angry at just how calm he looked. “Told you, way easier with two people.”

They decided to slide something under the bin so that Gerry could take it outside without actually touching it. Michael produced a thick manilla folder for the job, then a second one when blood soaked completely through the first. Not for the first time in his career, he worried that whatever the cleaning staff was being paid to venture down into the archive, it wasn’t enough. They paused at the door to the stairs, and Michael considered walking Gerry out to the front entrance.

“How are you planning to, erm… Get rid of it, if you can’t look at it?” he asked.

“Ehh, you know,” Gerry shrugged. “Set it on fire, I guess. I know a girl who could get it into a trash compactor, but then it’s a whole thing, and she’s got enough on her plate as it is.”

“Do be careful,” Michael told him one last time. Gerry smiled, looking almost guilty.

"Thanks," he said, "For everything, I mean. These things are nasty to deal with on your own, and… This was cool. How’d you catch it, anyway?”

“I didn’t,” said Michael. "Not until you thought I did." Gerry's smile grew immediately less awkward.

“Oh, you prick!” he laughed. “I take it back, I'm leaving you a bad yelp review. You specifically."

“Now who’s going to be in trouble with Gertrude?” said Michael, exactly as Gertrude Robinson opened the door from the other side.

Michael stared at her.

She stared at Gerry.

Gerry stared at blood-soaked paper that covered the wastepaper bin he was cradling

“For both your sakes,” Gertrude said after a long few seconds, “It had better be someone not in this room.”

To his credit, Michael waited a solid ten minutes to confront Gertrude after she’d finished escorting Gerry from the building. Gertrude never got into the habit of announcing her assistants before they entered her office. She found it terribly childish whenever James did it to her, and suspected that she would have come to the same conclusion even without the poor example. She did, however, give herself a leisurely minute or two to shuffle away some sensitive documents when she clocked Michael bearing down the hall towards her.

“It’s open,” she called out when he knocked. As he entered, Gertrude noticed a particular nervous energy that meant he was upset about something, like there wasn’t room for all of his emotions inside of his preposterously tall body.

“Right,” he said. “Okay. So. I think it’s about time we had a chat about the elephant in the archive.”

Gertrude adjusted her glasses at him. “Would this elephant happen to be a young man with a talent for property damage? Possibly of the gothic variety?”

“Yes,” Michael hissed, as though it was some kind of secret. He nudged the door mostly closed behind him. “Gertrude, you have- There’s just, a child, around, setting things on fire.”

“You know, I’m surprised that you went through the trouble of making me tea if you’re really that cross with me,” said Gertrude. Michael stood dumbly for a moment, the two steaming mugs in his hands held steadily as anything.

“Of course I made tea,” he said, scowling. “I’m not an animal.” He pushed Gertrude’s mug across the desk, sitting across from her with his own.

“Gerard is an associate that I picked up outside of work,” Gertrude explained calmly. Michael looked confused at the name for a moment, briefly enough that Gertrude didn’t feel the need to clarify. “It suits my needs to have contacts with different areas of expertise. I fear the Institute attracts a specific type of employee.”

“I get that,” said Michael. “I’ve met Dekker, he’s… very Dekker. What’s concerning is how this one’s barely old enough to buy beer.”

"And I suppose you think I'm taking advantage of that?" asked Gertrude.

"No, I- I just have a lot of questions," Michael said adamantly. Gertrude smiled at that. A very specific type of employee, indeed. "Where did you find him? Where are his parents? Do they know he's working here, with you? Does anyone know?"

It took some reasonably complex maths to determine what Gertrude could tell Michael without breaking him. The illusion of her own innocence was too precious to give up over an argument like this, and if he really pressed the matter she could just put a little more effort into keeping Gerard out of the archive. Michael was easy to lie to. He wanted to believe whatever Gertrude decided to tell him. It was, at the end of the day, the crux of their professional relationship.

All the more reason to use up her goodwill sparingly. Besides; the truth would be just as easy to believe, filtered properly.

“That is Eric Delano's son,” Gertrude told him. “His mother passed away recently. I was in a position to help, and he's been quite eager to return the favor. I doubt very much that he'd stay if he didn't enjoy the work.”

Michael’s mouth actually popped open in surprise. “That’s little Gerry?”

“I suppose,” said Gertrude.

Michael was the only one in the archive who had actually liked Eric Delano personally. On some level, Gertrude was aware of that. She hadn’t disliked him- had even mourned him, in her own way. But she wasn’t in the business of fostering friendships under the best of circumstances, which this was most certainly not. In that respect, Michael was her exact opposite. Eric had been content to let him show it. It had seemed a cruel joke to Gertrude after Eric died, but seeing the spark of hope in Michael’s eyes now made her reconsider.

“He’s so tall,” was all Michael could manage to say, as though that was some deeply impressive accomplishment.

“Yes, that does tend to happen,” Gertrude said mildly. “I won’t try to keep you away from him. Not unless he asks me to. But I would suggest you be a bit more careful. He’s rather forgetful, and if I've given him particular safety precautions for an assignment, I wouldn't trust him to pass them on to you."

“Wh- um. I sort of feel like I should be the one keeping him safe?” Michael stammered.

Gertrude surveyed Michael thoroughly. He had clearly not brushed his hair in several days, opting to run his fingers through it until it was as distractingly large as it was yellow and curly. His faded blue sweater vest had only barely enough professional weight to conceal the fact that the button-up shirt underneath was decorated with very small cartoon puppies. There was a blood splatter on his sleeve that he either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t been able to wash out.

“Oh, dear,” she said.

#the magnus archives #fanfiction #hiiiii guuuuuuys #fair warning the timeline I've approximated here kinda puts gerry/Michael off the table #but if all goes well I'll get to some Jon/Gerry and it'll be cute as hell

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one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years

Text

“triad”

Chapter 6: the coronation

So there's stuff I'm really excited to write and stuff that I'm not so excited to write so bear with me, there might be some time skips/ me skipping over canon stuff that I don't deem important to this story.

Link to the ao3 work

"I am the 29th Wizard King!"

The next few seconds are nothing but pure chaos. People all around the room start yelling and talking, pointing, spitting, every last one of them completely shocked by the words that just left my mouth. Not one of them wants to believe it, that I of all people was the one chosen for this job. But I didn't just get Julius's endorsement, this was a fair vote after all.

Surprisingly, the one who stays silent up in his box is none other than Augustus. His mouth hangs open by the hinge, yes, his eyes wide and bloodshot, but he says nothing as he stares down at my gleefully smirking face.

"SILENCE!"

The crowd finally slows their argument to a stop as Fuegoleon finally raises his voice above its roar, a commanding expression on his face. Good! I'm glad I brought him along... Like I said before, the magic knights captains decided to vote for me, for one reason or another, and that included two members of royalty. If this crowd and Augustus is going to listen to anyone, it's going to be Fuegoleon.

"There's no use protesting this. We decided she was the most qualified at this time," Fuegoleon continues, his fiery glare sweeping from face to face. Nozel remains silent, but his own eyes leave an icy track in his comrade's wake. "She is the Wizard King, and she wishes to delay judgement on Asta until we gather more information about the devils." His eyes finally land on their final target: Augustus. "Do you consent?"

Augustus stays silent, not even tearing away from me to look at the man addressing him. Seeing him like this, in total complete shock, with a hint of humiliation on his face...

It's something I've always wanted to see.

"Sir? I believe Lord Fuegoleon asked you a questions."

Augustus's trace finally snaps as I open my mouth to speak again. "If you have any objections... you should voice them now, while I'm still in a good mood."

Maybe that phrase was a bit threatening, but Augustus doesn't fight me. At least not this time. Despite the tumultuous years between us, the buckets of bad blood we've spilt, Augustus shakes his head, afraid to do anything but obey.

"Fine. You get your way this time."

And so, my first act as Wizard King is completed. With a satisfied smile, I finally turn to see Asta and the new girl, Nero, standing there in silence. Asta's eyes are wide, basically vibrating in their sockets from the force of what he just witnessed. "Are you two alright?"

The girl nods, but the words don't register for Asta right away. Finally, he too nods. "You... you're really the Wizard King now?"

I glance behind him at the other Black Bulls, and I realize that, when they came to this place today, they didn't expect to hear that Julius was dead. Varying degrees of shock and sadness adorn their faces, all of them lost for words.

... The whole world is going to find out today. Julius is dead. I clench my fist beneath my cape. But I won't let them despair!

I'll take all the despair in the world... and carry it myself.

"I am."

I reach forward, my hand briefly ruffling his hair as I walk past him towards the exit. The brief touch feels almost... motherly.

"Don't worry, Asta... you'll get your chance. But for now-" I glance back with a smile to see him and the others watching me go. "Investigate the Devils, and let me know everything you discover. We'll do our best to protect this Kingdom... together."

And with that, I turn and walk off, Fuegoleon and Nozel at my side, and the whole world's eyes piercing into my back.

-------------------------

"... so, we'll have the coronation as soon as possible. Probably two days from now. I'll get you something proper to wear, since I'm sure you'll be extremely busy until then."

"Mhmm."

"I'll keep cleaning up that old office, it's a shame that Julius's got destroyed in the fight. But at least your room is still intact."

"Mhmm."

Our paired steps finally shuffle to a stop in front of my bedroom door. It's a sight both familiar and foreign to me; a place where I've spent much of my life, yet after being away for a week, those times feel like a distant memory. I start to reach out towards the doorknob, but Marx stops me with a question.

"Will you be... alright by yourself?"

By yourself.

"Marx." I turn to see his worn out face, a slightly teasing expression on mine. "If you want to cuddle, just say so."

He immediately goes beet red. "NO!" he objects, shaking his head and staggering back. "Why you- fine! I'm glad you're feeling okay, then. I was asking for you, not me!" Hmm... I bet he's only partially telling the truth. "Goodnight. You know how to find me if you need anything."

"Right, thank you, Marx."

I watch him walk off down the hall, his shoulders slumping as he moves out of sight. He's so tired, it weighs down on every one of his joints. That poor man... I know he's lost nearly as much as me, yet he carries on his duties for my sake. Without him, I would be lost, I know that much. With a sigh, I finally turn the handle of my door and walk into the bedroom that now belongs entirely to me.

Lyra and I have always shared a room, ever since I was old enough to have my own bed. It accustomed me to the soft sounds of another person sleeping nearby. The first time I ever got my own room was when I moved away to the capital and worked in an inn for a couple months. However, that room was so tiny, you could barely call it a room, a more accurate word would be "cupboard." I didn't mind, because it was just temporary. After that, I shared a room at the Crimson Lion Base with a girl named Alana. I haven't heard much about her for a while- I hope she's alright. And then, when I was promoted, I got my own room, although it wasn't really my own... Julius invited himself over night after night, hardly giving me a moment to myself. Which I didn't mind... I didn't want to be by myself, anyway.

Myself... by myself...

The room is the exact same as I left it the morning of the Royal Knights mission. The bed is still unmade, a cold, half-filled cup of coffee sits sadly on the table by the window. It's so familiar, so ordinary, I could almost convince myself that nothing has changed. I'll go to bed, and tomorrow I'll be awakened by a shower of annoying kisses on my face, just like every morning before.

By... myself...

I hum idly to myself as I strip down, carefully placing the chain I was wearing over the back of a chair. Until I get an official outfit, that'll have to do as a badge of my status. The rest of my clothes get piled unceremoniously on the floor, I'll put them out for the laundry people tomorrow. Everything seems to be in the same place as it was before, so my pajamas are probably still in the closet. I walk over, my bare feet silent on the carpet, and draw back the door to start looking. However, I freeze in place as soon as I see what's inside.

That... that's...

It's that robe. His robe. I skipped the funeral, making the excuse that I was "too busy." It wasn't going to be much of a funeral anyway. HQ agreed that it was best to lay Julius to rest somewhere out of the way so we still had time for damage control, but they must have buried him in some other outfit. Because, this...

Julius...

I reach out, my hand trembling uncontrollably, and finally let my fingers brush against the fabric. It's soft, like the pelt of a newborn animal, like the first rays of sun each day, or perhaps the last. My hand pushes further, my palm slipping through the fur, the familiar feelings finally grounding me in this horrible reality that I'm trapped within.

Today... I did nothing but distract myself. More than just one day, really...

I consumed myself with my goal, ignoring the grief looming over me, and ignoring the growing void within me.

Julius... I'm the Wizard King now.

I didn't expect an answer, but the silence is still deafening.

I did it... I- I-

My vision is starting to become blurry.

I don't feel any better, though...

Slowly, my other hand comes up to touch it as well. The ghost of a feeling accompanies it, the memory of burying myself into this robe, into his warm, strong embrace, the safety of that moment-

A moment I'll never experience again.

All at once, I stop resisting. The void grows rapidly, consuming my body all at once. It searches for that soul, his soul, and finds nothing. Nothing but pure, unadulterated emptiness.

And all at once, I fall down into it. My knees buckle as a strangled shriek leaves my throat. It's an unearthly sound, something inhuman, with no emotion behind it. It's just a sound, the sound of absolute nothingness. The hanger the robe hangs on snaps as I drag it down with me, and it falls into a crumpled pile when I hit the ground, my body curling into the soft yet cold shreds of what's left of my broken life. Tears sting my eyes, panic and grief consuming me, piercing into my skin like a million little needles. I can't think, I can't form a coherent feeling, all that runs through my mind are two words, repeated over and over until my mind rings with pain.

He's gone.

All that's left is me, and this robe, and the uncarryable burden I've taken on.

What started as a desperate promise, I will become the Wizard King, turned into a distraction, a goal I reached for because of the tiniest fraction of a chance that it would make me feel better. But it didn't- and in the end, I only made that promise so I could see Julius smile one last time.

But now, I let my delusion pull me this far. I manipulated Fuegoleon. I hurt William. And now, I'm here at the top, in a position that I am woefully unprepared to carry out.

Maybe I could do it... if Julius was here.

Julius... why...

My sobbing dies down after a long time, but I can't summon the strength to move from where I lay.

why would you leave me alone in this world?

His words to me still echo in my ears, a melody that's fading at a frighteningly fast rate.

"I love you more than I love our Kingdom."

Then... why...

I shift sightly, burying my red, tear-stained face into the fur once again. I inhale, my lungs barely strong enough to do so, and a sudden wave of calm washes over me like a gentle wave.

It... it smells like him, still...

Maybe I didn't notice what he smelled like until he was gone, because we spent so much time together that our smells became the same. But now I can sense it: Vanilla. Coffee. Black Tea. And lavender...

I'm scared, Julius... I'm selfish and naive, and now the whole Kingdom is my responsibility. How did you manage it all?

I'm not... completely alone, am I?

I close my eyes, sinking deeper into my own soul. I can feel him inside me, still, that one little shard that gifted me with power and love. It's his, still living. I've heard him speak before, so maybe...

Julius? Can you hear me?

I lay there in silence until sleep finally blesses me with its release. There is no answer.

----------------------------------------

The morning greets me with a wave of nausea. With a strangled groan, I sit up, sore from sleeping in a pile on the ground. Shit! Mind reeling, I scramble on all fours to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to release my guts. After a minute of retching, the moment passes, and I fall back to lay on the bathroom floor. God, that was unpleasant... For some reason, though, I can't help but smile. That's it, then... morning sickness.

A reminder of the one good thing that's happened in the last few days: I'm pregnant.

After a few minutes, I shakily get back on my feet, brush my teeth, and move back into the bedroom. A pang of sadness hits me again as I spot my nest, Julius's robe rumpled up where I curled up within it. Hopefully I can manage better... I need to be better about emoting this kind of thing. The episode last night was bad, and part of me wonders if the source of the emptiness was the fact that Julius and I were literally bonded, emotionally, mentally, physically... all of it. My grandparents were so closely bonded, they died at the exact same time. Some of this extra pain is probably from separation. Great!

Despite my verdict, I still have a job to do. I couldn't get anything out of Julius's memories last night, so I'll have to keep going at it alone. The process of distracting myself begins once again.

It's still early, so I take the time to clean up the room again. I replace all the clothes in the closet, but I can't bring myself to hide the robe away again. Instead, I fold it up and place it on the bed once its made. This will be a small comfort... it'll be nice to sleep with it, anyway.

Things are kind of dusty, so I start wiping it away. I pull out a couple of ancient boxes from under the bed, some of which I've never seen before. Curious, I open them up one after the other, and the contents of one shock me.

"Huh? What's this doing here?"

It's a crown, a simple gold crown with a couple of rubies embedded in it. Now that I think about it, all the pictures of past Wizard Kings have them wearing crowns, but I never saw Julius wear it, not once. He must have thought it was dumb, and kept it hidden out of sight. For some reason I can't help but giggle a little at the thought, although the sound is laced with melancholy. It makes sense... you always did things your way, and never really cared for the power and status your position gave you. A king doesn't need to wear a crown, unless...

Slowly, I reach up and put it on my own head, admiring myself in the mirror.

Unless she looks great in it!

I get dressed, pulling on another outfit like the one last night. My hands are still shaking a bit as I tie up the sash of my "bathrobe," which is just as comfy as it was last night. Right... it's time to buckle down. Ready or not, I'm the Wizard King, and I'm going to do everything I can to protect everyone. My orders to Asta and the Black Bulls were vague, but hopefully they could dig up some useful information about the devils. The fact that they even existed and one managed to cause so much damage was astounding and worrying. Something told me there was more to this threat than I realized.

Finally, I pull on my cape and the chain once more, and look one last time in the mirror.

I guess... I'm starting to look the part, at least. And once Marx digs up some outfit for me to wear, I'll really look like a king. Hopefully he doesn't find some heavy robe like Julius wore.

With that, I turn and walk out of my room, steeling myself for another hectic day.

Two days later, I find myself in another alien situation, one I never thought I'd find myself in. Of course, I've been to this room before. It's the great hall of the castle, where I first met Augustus, where I even got married. But those were both small gatherings. Today, the room is packed, with nobles, royalty, and every single Magic Knight. They all turn to look at me as the doors open to let me in, flanking both sides of the aisle. For a moment, I stand there, like a deer in the headlights, albeit a very well-dressed deer.

This is it...

At the other end stands Augustus and the magic knights captains, all staring at me with varying expressions on their faces. Augustus's face is steely, almost disgusted, but Fuegoleon, Charlotte, and the others are smiling at me.

You can do this. We're here.

I suck in a deep breath, and my gaze meets Marx. He's smiling too, a but his eyes look wet. He gives me a little nod.

I take my first step forward.

Not so long ago, being the center of any kind of attention was too much for me. From my childhood, I was forced to stay at the outskirts, out of sight.

Get out of my sight.

But now...

All eyes are on me. Not just those in this room. The whole kingdom waits with baited breath to see what this new Wizard King will do. Nobility peers down at me over their noses. The commoners celebrate the ascension of one of their own. The peasants wait to see when if I will remember them, too.

But it's not just my kingdom that's watching.

"This new Wizard King... if she's anything like Julius Novachrono, she will prove to be a useful ally."

And even farther away...

"Do you think this girl will be a threat, Lucifero?"

"...

no."

It's a long, long walk, but I finally arrive, and slowly kneel before the King. Augustus speaks to the crowd, but his eyes don't leave mine. I find myself smirking, and he gulps nervously as he can tell what I'm thinking.

Drink up this view, your majesty... this will be the only time I get on my knees for you.

I finally tune in again as he speaks my full name.

"Do you swear to protect this Kingdom, and serve faithfully as the Wizard King?"

I nod quickly.

"I do."

I said "I do" in this room once before, didn't I? I liked the man across from me then much better, though...

"Then by the power entrusted with me as the King of the Clover Kingdom-"

The shiny crown, newly polished after its long slumber under the bed, now hovers above my head.

"-I proclaim you the Wizard King."

I close my eyes, the weight of the crown finally registering as it finds purchase in my hair.

"Please rise."

I do as he says, rising to my feet as gracefully as I can. Two servants step forward from each side, one holding a Sovereign's Orb and the other a Scepter. Each one is heavily bejeweled and are just as heavy as I take them in my hands. But I carry the weight well, and I finally turn to face the crowd as the applause begins. It's official now... here I stand, adorned with more finery than I ever thought I would carry. Julius's chain hangs in three loops across my chest, fastened on each side of my new robe. Marx had it custom made... it's long, velvety fabric trimmed with the same white fur that Julius's had.

The applause continues, but the tension in the air doesn't escape me. My eyes land on each squad, giving them each a calming smile.

I raise my hand (with difficulty, since it's occupied by the Orb), and the crowd hushes immediately. Awkwardly, I clear my throat and start to speak, projecting my voice as much as I can.

"I will be forever thankful for this honor you have bestowed upon me... leading the Magic Knights and this Kingdom is no small task, but I promise-" I hold up the specter, and Marx immediately steps forward to take it from me. Once unburdened, my hand forms three fingers, which I quickly press against my heart.

"I will protect every member of this kingdom with all the life I have!"

The crowd erupts in cheers again, giving me a moment of joy. They're cheering for me, all of them are looking up at me to lead them.

And I will... I will!

Maybe it's too early to tell if I'll actually be able to keep this promise. Maybe, even now, I knew it would be impossible. But I'm going to try anyway.

Julius, wherever you are... watch me. Guide me. I let my hand fall back to my side.

The ceremony ends, and Yami immediately finds his way to my side. "Yami! You wanted to discuss something with me, right?" I ask, putting down my water as I mill about after the event is over. There's food and drink for everyone, each one having come up to congratulate me until it was Yami's turn.

The man nods, his eyes darting around. "Right... we should go somewhere private." He leans in, whispering his next words as we start to walk off.

"There might be a devil's curse in the Heart Kingdom."

#black clover #bc oc #oc: lisa #fic #triad

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animus-inspire-archive · 4 years

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Starter for @ofgeneticperfection

Reeve had been distracted ever since being in Gongaga. Though, more accurately, it had been Cait Sith who had been in Gongaga.

Despite being overridden in the Executive Board when the Reactor core exploded and killed most of the town folk, Reeve had still wanted to be there and see for himself. So he did that in the only way he knew how, as his duties as the Head of Urban Planning ostensibly required him elsewhere.

It was actually Mog he designed first for Urban Development reconnaissance - the large body designed to resist falling debris or other accident - but the huge stuffed toy had proved too unwieldy and needed more direct control. So Reeve had made Cait Sith, a creation into which he poured so much of his future and past into.

From previous infiltrations both Reeve and Cait Sith already knew the location of the Support Materia that the Turks required. So to help Veld, Cait Sith had relayed it to them via his favourite whimsical magic of a fortune. They had gone to Junon with Gun, before infiltrating a submarine to Gongaga and reaching the now destroyed Mako Reactor.

And it was the fight there with the Materia Keeper that was the very thing that had kept Reeve distracted for the rest of the day. Even Tseng had had to remind him to attend his scheduled board meeting for crying out loud!

Sat amidst the other Executives, Scarlet to his right and Hojo to his left, Reeve could not help but think on what to do next. Using a non-combat machine in an actual field scenario was a mistake... but to add offensive features, Cait Sith would lose much of his agility and freedom of movement. There had to be a way to balance this out! Reeve was totally focussed on his internal thoughts that he did not really fully register the board meeting drawing to a close.

However his mind snapped quickly to attention at just one muttered word coming from his left hand side... Cyborg.

Everyone else had left but Scarlet and Hojo. They were completely ignoring the fact he was sitting between them and were now talking to each other over his head. Not for the first time, Reeve was thankful that most of his fellow executives saw him as not much more than a piece of dirt under their shoe, or irritating fluff getting up their noses. He listened attentively whilst pretending to still be completely zoned out of their words.

Hojo was asking Scarlet about Artificial Intelligence? That did not even make sense. Hojo was a scientist and not an engineer, his fingers firmly in biological viscera, not any form of mechanical programming.

Scarlet was getting curious too. Even though she was an immoral harpy these days, she was still as whip smart as she had always been. Hojo sensed her intrigue and deflected with some intellectually superior bullshit, cackling off out of the boardroom. Left alone, Scarlet finally seemed to realise Reeve was actually there, and, with a disdainful scoff, left shortly afterwards.

But Reeve’s curiosity had been peaked.

Cait Sith’s AI was going to have to be tweaked sooner or later, but Reeve could use this to get some answers to the question: why Hojo of all people?

Despite his own reservations about going up a level to Hojo’s laboratory, a cat’s curiosity certainly overrode a certain amount of displeasure. Some rooms were gloomy, bathed in an eerie glow that stank of Mako but Reeve found his way to a corridor that lead to a computer room ringed with windows. Hojo was not around, but someone else was...

Knocking on the metal door as it swung open, Reeve poked his head through and settled hazel on the striking white haired woman sat typing away at the computers, “Excuse me. I was looking for Professor Hojo.”

#you like para to novella right?#xD #ofgeneticperfection #go wild (or fluffy) as you want ;)#wth Hojo #Before Crisis #starter

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reid2me · 4 years

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2. You’re So Ambitious For A Juvenile

FIND THE FULL STORY HERE

I bolted from hero's apartment faster than I though my feet could carry me, I felt like shit, but I was just getting a taste of my own medicine so I should suck it up. Maybe handsome stranger could cheer me up?

What apartment did he say he was again? 27? 29? yes it was 29, so I dragged my body down the hallway to handsome strangers door, in my head it did seem a little weird to go crying about your (ex)boyfriend, to a stranger you just met in the elevator but I did it anyway and threw caution to the wind.

I hesitantly knocked on apartment 29, and to my surprise handsome stranger opened the door without hesitation.

"hey, I wasn't actually expecting you to come." he laughed along to himself, oh shit, I totally read the all signals wrong, I'm such an idiot, I should have just gone home.

"oh, sorry, I'll just get going then."

"wait, I didn't say I didn't want you to come, what's your name anyway?"

"Vienna."

"that's an interesting name, like the capital of Austria."

"I'm named after the billy Joel song but Austria works too." we chuckled to ourselves as handsome stranger lead me into his apartment.

"so you know my name, what's yours?"

"oh my god, how rude of me, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid but you can just call me Spencer."

"Woah, your really young to be a dr. that's really impressive."

"I actually have three PhD's in maths, chemistry and engineering, but I'm probably boring you."

"oh no way, that's is really cool, how old are you? if you don't mind me asking I mean, holding three PhD's at any age is really impressive."

"I'm 28."

"woah, so are you some kind of genius or something."

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an I.Q of 187, and eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute."

I stared at him dumbfounded for longer than I should have.

"yes, I'm a genius." he said with a slight smirk on his face

"anyway, tell me a bit about yourself Vienna."

"there's really not much to tell." I just broke up with my boyfriend who I thought was going to propose to me when really he just didn't want to upset him mother - that's really a good icebreaker.

"ok, well what brings you to my apartment at 8pm on a Thursday night." oh god, the flood gates are about to burst.

"well... as I told you earlier I was going to break up with my boyfriend, and I did, but it didn't exactly go the way I had planned... But let's back track a few weeks, I found a ring in his sock draw, and as you can image I thought he was going to propose to me, but I can't do commitment so I decided to break up with him, and I decided to go to his apartment randomly to do it, so when I got there I tried to break it to him gently by saying I just need space and all those lies and he replied by saying "this is actually great because I was thinking of breaking up with you too." so I was really confused and asked "so who was the ring for?" and he confessed his mother had given it to him to propose to me, but he didn't want to propose to me, so yeah, not exactly your average Thursday night."

"jeez, sounds like you need a drink!"

"that is the best idea I've heard in a long time."

as you and Spencer sat, drank wine and chatted the night away, you got to talking about your jobs, turns out he's a profiler for the F.B.I and I didn't think he would be too impressed when I said

"I work part time in a second hand book store." but he seemed quite thrilled about the idea of me sat reading the classics.

as I felt more comfortable around Spencer (I'm not sure if that's due to the wine or Spencer's easy going ways)

I mentioned the fact that "I do have bigger goals for life you know, I don't plan to sit in a book shop till I die."

"Im sure you don't, but I could die happy if I did." he responded

"I want to be a writer!" I spat out with enthusiasm and he spat his wine all over the kitchen counter, not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, my face must have had disappointment plastered all over it as he looked up and he immediately looked guilty,

"oh, no, I didn't mean it like that, it's just being a writer is hard work and very ambitious, but you can do anything you put your mind to, if you try hard enough."

it was this comment that made me think, maybe this was fate, maybe I was supposed to meet Spencer in the elevator and come crawling to him after one of the worst moments of my life.

I looked at the clock to see the hand seconds away from midnight, shit, I've been here for nearly four hours, so I politely excused myself and headed home, but not before leaving my number on a piece of paper, this is weird for me, I'm never normally the one to make the first move, but something just feels different with Spencer.

#mgg #mgg fic #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds

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sicut-in-caelo-et-in-terra · 4 years

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Hi! I came across your blog and I’m so happy I did. I recently started to open my eyes and wanted to know Jesus and I am beyond happy I did because I already feel like a more calming presence around me. However, I was wondering if you have advice on how to stop with the ‘false idols’ thing? I spent the last few years only feeling validated when getting notices, spending money or whatever for meeting celebrities I liked and I’m so exhausted + tired of doing this. I’m just scared of falling back

Thank you so much for the ask! And I'm so happy you've been coming to know Jesus!

Yeah, false idols are tough. We all have them, and there's extensive literature on why they're bad and how to get rid of them - read the writings of almost any Saint. The first one that comes to mind is St. Thérèse of Lisieux and her little way. For more info I would recommend reading one of her actual works like Story of a Soul, or you can read something about her writings by someone else, like I Believe in Love by Fr. Jean C. J. D'Elbée. But here's my take largely based on the Little Way.

Here's the thing that might kind of seem surprising to hear in a discourse on purging idols. Money, power, fame, sex (although sex is a bit complicated of a topic, for a different post), things you buy, food, celebrities, likes on social media, politics, all these things that can become idols, aren't actually intrinsically bad. They become bad when they become your source of meaning. They become bad when they become the center of your life. They become bad when they stand in between you and God. They become bad when you stop seeing them as gifts God has given you, and start seeing them as things you deserve, or things you need, or things you can't be happy without.

Okay, great, that's why we've come here, so that we can figure out how to make those things be not like that.

Let's talk about chocolate. Chocolate is good. Chocolate is exquisite. I love it. I just had a piece of chocolate earlier today because it was my cousin's wedding and my mom was making candy baggies for the guests and there was some candy left over. I had a dark chocolate Kit Kat. I ate it and it was great, and I didn't think much about it and went on with the rest of my day.

But before time began, before the creation of the angels, before the beginning - God, who would go on to create massive spheres of plasma millions of times bigger than the sun, and black holes and quasars and dazzling crystals of amethyst and waterfalls and physics and kittens, who would go on and send his dear Jesus to die because he would rather endure that pain than be separated from me, who even now has sent an angel to watch over me who is so powerful that he could extinguish any one of those gigantic stars with a swing of his sword, God said, "On October 10, 2020, my beloved son Jared is going to eat a dark chocolate Kit Kat bar and I can't wait to make him even just a little bit happy for it."

Like can you understand that?! This modicum of joy that I received, which I barely paid any mind to before moving on with my day, was a gift that since before it all happened God has been giddy to witness me experience. Even now as I move my thumb across the screen to write these words, God watches with utter love, in total enjoyment. You know how when you see a gif of a celebrity you like doing some normal movement in their day and you fall a little more in love? God experiences* a million billion kajillion times that, towards you, specifically, every second of every day.

(*to say 'God "experiences"' is not quite right but in this context it is a sufficient explanation even if not technically accurate)

Okay, so idols.

Everything that is good, is good because of God. And any and every good that happens to you, ever, is because God specifically wanted it for you (delight that comes from sin is not counted here as a good) because He loves you.

Why is there something rather than nothing? Why is there a you rather than no you? God doesn't need you, and He doesn't lack anything without you. He made you out of love, because He wants the good for you. Everything is a gift.

And suffering? That's also a gift. But for a different post.

So, go ahead and eat a dark chocolate Kit Kat bar. You might be tempted to think, "I deserve this." You might be tempted to eat the first one and then seek after infinite dark chocolate Kit Kat bars because you love them so much. You might be tempted to treat the dark chocolate Kit Kat bar as an end unto itself. I guess you might be tempted to construct a golden dark chocolate Kit Kat bar statue and have an orgy all around it until Moses comes down from the mountain and grinds it into powder, mixes it with water, and makes you drink it. But instead, do this - recite these words: "Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we have received from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord." And really understand the words. Know that this is a gift, given to you freely by God. Let this dark chocolate Kit Kat bar be a sign, from God to you, that He loves you. That is what good things are for.

When all your candy is eaten for the candy's sake, or to vainly fill some hole that a wound has left in your heart, it will leave you, as you described, empty. But, properly ordered, no good thing will ever go to waste.

Now, some more practical tips (and anyone reading this please feel free to add)

1. Fast. This is a good practice for everyone, but especially if you've identified a particular idol in your life that you're having trouble ordering properly. If there's something that keeps making you feel empty, something that keeps getting in your way on your path to God, give it up. If it's not a sin, give it up only for a time, and break the fast sometimes. As Catholics we break our fasts on Sundays and solemnities to celebrate the Resurrection, but it's also a good practice because having something you really like but haven't had in a while, makes you appreciate it more and it's easier to see it as a gift. Also bask in the silence that has been brought to your life when this thing you often turn to is no longer available. It's uncomfortable at first but it's good.

2. Thankfuls. I do this every night, once over the phone with my girlfriend and once right before bed as part of my examen prayer. Now, psychologists are recommending it for people with depression as well so. Basically what you're going to do is review your day and notice the gifts you have been given. You can tell someone or write it down, or just pray it. Thank God for everything you've received. If your mind tends to wander like mine, I recommend with starting with a set number, like 3. Or try and think of everything you can.

3. Replace. This is another psychology tactic, also useful when conquering sin. Feeling like you want to watch porn? Draw instead (doesn't have to be a good drawing). Feeling like you're going to gossip? Excuse yourself and say a quick prayer instead. Gonna post something funny (and maybe a bit mean) for the sweet sweet dopamine from getting likes? Maybe journal instead. Have a plan for when you notice yourself being about to idol something. Fasting can enhance this practice cause it makes you more aware and more likely to catch yourself as well.

That was a very long post, but I hope it was helpful. Thank you for reading! And I'll be praying for you.

#ask #catholic #christian #jesus #christianity #god #mine #catholicism #answered #Thérèse of lisieux #gratitude #idols #thankfulness #fasting

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literary-masochism · 4 years

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Midnight Sun: Chapter One - My Descent Into Madness

(reposted from my blog)

I kind of want to be dramatic and say I have a long, sordid history with Twilight, but I’m not sure that’s accurate. I do have a history, but it is one of pain, tears, and frustration.

I’m a firm believer in reading a ‘bad’ book to form your own opinion on it instead of just believing what you’re told...

The criticisms against Twilight were more than justified.

It took me multiple attempts to get through the first book – The first time I didn’t even finish the first chapter. I loathed Bella Swan from the moment we met her. She whined nonstop, she bitched nonstop, and was instantly so shallow and two-faced to everyone she met that I wanted to punch her in her (at the time) nondescript face.

But I tried again and again and finally finished the series. I remember crying during the Breaking Dawn because nothing was fucking happening and there was so much left in the book and I just wanted it to END.

Then my brain, trying to save me, made me forget everything about what I read. When I realized what had happened, I checked my Goodreads to make sure I did, in fact, read those books and they weren’t just a fever dream sent by the forces of evil to torment me.

As much as I appreciated the attempt, I earned those scars... at least audiobooks are easier to get through, even though I had to pause them to rage, again, at the idiocy.

And now... Now we have Midnight Sun. I believe I skimmed the leaked book but never gave it any real attention... so, of course, the full book gets released the day after my 34th birthday.

Joy.

But it gives me an excuse to try something I always wanted to do: Snarking bad books... because if I have to suffer, you might as well too!

So... without further delay... here is the first chapter, as seen by me, of Midnight Sun.

Chapter 1: First Sight

We open up with Edward being a melodramatic prick about having to go to school and how boring it is.

THIS WAS THE TIME OF DAY WHEN I MOST WISHED I WERE ABLE TO SLEEP.

High school.

Or was purgatory the right word? If there were any way to atone for my sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium was not something I grew used to; every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last.

Followed quickly by how much humans, especially teenagers, suck absolute ass.

When it came to the human mind, I’d heard it all before and then some. Today, all thoughts were consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body. It took so little to work them up. I’d seen the new face repeated in thought after thought from every angle. Just an ordinary human girl. The excitement over her arrival was tiresomely predictable—it was the same reaction as one would get from flashing a shiny object at a group of toddlers. Half the sheep-like males were already imagining themselves infatuated with her, just because she was something new to look at. I tried harder to tune them out.

Don’t you just love him already?

This is only the first page... It’s not even a full page... Edward tells us how he tries not to listen to his siblings then tells us exactly what his siblings are thinking.

He shames Rosalie for thinking about how hot she is, but since that’s her only personality trait we ever got in the entire saga (besides bitch), I’m not that worked up over it. She’s hot and she knows it.

Emmett is just thinking about kicking Jasper’s ass which, I feel, is a goal everyone should aspire to because Jasper’s thoughts...

And Jasper was… suffering.

GOOD

Alice mentally calls his name and Edward is kind enough to let us know that it’s just the same as if someone said it out loud... you know, because we’re too dumb to work that out ourselves.

Also, he is so thankful that the name EDWARD has ‘fallen out of style’ in the last few decades.

Alice is worried about Jasper slaughtering everybody within a ten-mile radius because he’s become a literal statue (because Meyerpires are made of stone and this is in no way a ripoff of Anne Rice) and, stupidly, she asks Edward how he’s doing...

I guess Alice forgot she could, you know, SEE INTO THE FUTURE. Because checking to see if your boyfriend is about to go on a murder spree is a telepathy situation.

She relaxed. Let me know if it gets too bad.

I moved only my eyes, up to the ceiling above, and back down.

Thanks for doing this.

YOU CAN SEE THE GOD DAMN FUTURE!

Was it really necessary to experiment this way? Wouldn’t the safer path be to just admit that he might never be able to handle his thirst as well as the rest of us could, and not push his limits? Why flirt with disaster?

YES! WHY?!

For a group of vampires that don’t want to kill humans, so we’re told, they certainly don’t give a fuck if they kill humans.

It had been two weeks since our last hunting trip. That was not an immensely difficult time span for the rest of us. A little uncomfortable occasionally—if a human walked too close, if the wind blew the wrong way. But humans rarely walked too close. Their instincts told them what their conscious minds would never understand: We were a danger that must be avoided.

So... which is it?

Edward thinks about how oblivious the humans around them are and how they avoid the ‘odd-looking’ group.

Okay, if I had to guess, the avoidance has more to do with how fucking weird you are. A group of five incredibly attractive (And yet odd-looking? Sure Meyer) teenagers sitting by themselves with full trays of food that they don’t eat, all while wearing designer clothing. They don’t talk to each other, they barely even look at each other...

That’s fucking weird. THEY’RE WEIRD.

Meyer: They’re either so attractive as to lure their prey in for the kill or they’re so inhuman looking that no one wants to go near them. It can’t be both.

Anyway, a girl walks by and Edward starts frothing at the mouth while he and Jasper get a vampire erection over Jasper imagining MURDERING AN INNOCENT GIRL.

Also, calling her a ‘little girl’ is very creepy in an entirely different way. Just sayin’.

Edward snaps Jasper out of it and Alice lies and says he wasn’t going to slaughter an innocent human being in the middle of the cafeteria.

We had to stick together, Alice and I. It wasn’t easy, being the freaks among those who were already freaks.

Shut the ever-loving-fuck up.

And Alice, ever-so-helpfully, reminds Jasper to think of humans as people... because, you know, they aren’t really. Not compared to vampires anyway.

Someone mentally says the name ‘Edward’ so Edward turns to them as though they had actually called his name. Only it was in his head, not in real life. In case you didn’t catch that. That Edward is telepathic... so he hears thoughts as though they were being spoken to him. That’s why he looked over when someone thought his name.

In case you didn’t understand what was going on.

This is the first time Edward sees Bella and... he gives no fucks. But wait! Turns out it was Jessica Stanley thinking about him, not Bella!

In fact, Jessica thinks Bella is already crushing on all the Cullens.

Good for you, Jessica, not assuming Bella is only after the undead D. Rosalie/Bella shippers thank you.

Edward is relieved Jessica got over her fixation on him (because it’s totally normal for teenager girls to crush on weird-looking weirdos). He then goes on to show he has no idea how teenage girls (or adult women for that matter) work:

What a relief it had been when she’d gotten over her misplaced fixation. It used to be nearly impossible to escape her constant, ridiculous daydreams. I’d wished, at the time, that I could explain to her exactly what would have happened if my lips, and the teeth behind them, had gotten anywhere near her. That would have silenced those annoying fantasies.

That is the exact fantasy most TwiHards were having.

Jessica complains that she doesn’t see why all the boys are looking at Bella, thinking she’s ‘not even pretty’. I know this is supposed to make Jessica unlikable but, you know what? That is a very wounded teenage thought process. It’s immature and turning the blame somewhere else but that’s teenagers in a nutshell.

Edward comments on Jessica’s new obsession with Mike Newton – creepily calling him a child.

There is the implication that Jessica’s not a nice person because she’s being outwardly nice to Bella while bad-mouthing her mentally and... that’s such a Christian mentality: the idea that your thoughts matter as much as your actions. Just putting that out there because, clearly, we can see what Meyer’s opinion on that is… as long as it’s one of the Cullens or Bella doing the thinking, it’s fine! In Twilight, Bella was putting down everyone who looked at her until the hideously beautiful Edward was so mean to her.

No, I didn’t forget that shit.

Jessica continues being a teenager girl, hoping that with Bella’s ever-shining light of beauty shining beside her that maybe Senpai Mike will notice her.

And, of course, Edward is an asshole because he’s upset that a teenager girl has teenage thoughts.

He tells Emmett what’s going down with the new girl and tries to listen in on Bella’s thoughts to see what she thinks about all this.

And, because Bella doesn’t actually have thoughts, all Edward hears in the unending howling void.

Edward tells us he has to use his powers to protect his family! He has to listen to everyone’s thoughts in case anyone gets suspicious about the beautiful/weird/attractive/repulsive family in their midst.

I feel like that would be easier if Edward didn’t actively try to ignore everyone.

But sometimes people get it right and the Cullens have to disappear before... I don’t know. Meyerpires are indestructible by humans to the point that they can outrun nuclear bombs. The Vultori might come whine at them for exposing the secret but by that point, the Cullens disappearing would just draw even more attention.

Edward tries to listen to the new girl but gets nothing. He turns to check and all he can see is the brown-void eyes of Bella.

There’s also a bit in there where Edward wonders if Bella is still sitting there because she must be since Jessica is still talking. He turns and sees Bella still sitting there because of course she is, because Jessica is still talking to her. You see, Bella was still there and Edward suspected as much as Jessica was still talking to her because she was still sitting there.

He gets another hard-on as Bella blushes. He comments that she “looked surprised” as she “unknowingly absorbed the signs of subtle differences between her kind and mine.”

Bitch, you don’t know that. You can’t read her fucking thoughts. You’re just assuming this bullshit. This is some of what I remember from skimming the first Midnight Sun. You just make up shit about her personality to suit what you want! Reality is completely optional.

And we get this:

[...] as she listened to Jessica’s tale; and something more… Fascination? It wouldn’t be the first time. We were beautiful to them, our intended prey.

You know, the hyper attractiveness that turns people away because of how odd-looking they are but also draws people to them while also making people avoid them because they’re so inhuman.

And yet, though her thoughts had been so clear in her odd eyes—odd because of the depth to them—I could hear only silence from the place she was sitting. Just… silence.

Yes, because she’s the void personified.

Try and keep up.

Edward decides that he’s just not trying hard enough and stops blocking out all the teenager chatter – you know, the chatter he constantly listens to to ensure the safety of his family? That chatter.

Also, shout out to Ashley Dowling for obviously having a crush on Bella.

Angela Weber is the only one not thinking about Bella. I’m sure Meyer’s just trying to show how ‘unusually kind’ she is but... acting like a completely normal person doesn’t really qualify as being ‘unusually kind’.

Then Meyer, again, tries too hard to make Jessica unlikable by having her mentally calling Bella an idiot for asking about Edward Cullen. But since Bella is an idiot...

We get the infamous “He’s gorgeous, obviously.” line even though all of student body finds the Cullens odd-looking and want nothing to do with them.

And Edward gets this strong impulse to protect Bella from Jessica’s nefarious plots to... get mildly more popular for the short time people care that there’s a new student at school. He describes how fragile Bella looks and how translucent her skin is...

Then we get this little gem where Meyer, apparently, forgot Edward can’t read Bella’s mind while describing things he’d only know if he could read her mind.

It was unbelievably frustrating! I could easily see that it was a strain for her to sit there, to make conversation with strangers, to be the center of attention. I could sense her shyness from the way she held her frail-looking shoulders, slightly hunched, as if she was expecting a rebuff at any moment.

This is a one-way street, Meyer. Edward has to stay his ass in his own lane.

Edward informs us that, despite not being able to hear Bella’s thoughts, he’s not going to let himself get too interest in them just because they’re hidden from him... then immediately says he’s going to find out what she thinks no matter what it takes. No matter how petty, trivial, self-absorbed, whiny, and shallow they are! He will find out!

Emmett interrupts Edward’s obliviousness to his own faults and asks if Bella is afraid of them yet.

“They sit by themselves, never talk to anyone, and stare at the wall.” Absolutely terrifying.

Lunch is over and the Cullens to go their classes. Edward is an asshole prepared to be bored because he’s so much smarter than the biology teacher.

He also tells us the reason he has a table to himself is because everyone is avoiding him and they were too stupid to know why. Yes, that is the word he uses.

Such a Prince Charming, isn’t he?

Again, Edward laments his inability to sleep when Angela leads Bella into class! Then Edward remembers he was totally thinking about Bella just now and not wishing he was asleep!

Also, Angela? Shut up.

The Void comes in and Edward still can’t hear her and, in one of the few moments I like, he worries that he’s losing his gift. Don’t worry, nothing comes out of that thought.

Edward notes that the only available seat is beside him so he clears a bit of room for her, feeling sorry that she’s doomed to spend so much time next to his hideousness. BUT THEN!

Bella Swan walked into the flow of heated air that blew toward me from the vent.

Her scent hit me like a battering ram, like an exploding grenade. There was no image violent enough to encompass the force of what happened to me in that moment.

Now comes a page long description of Edward losing his shit. He tells us, multiple times, how much he wants to eat her, how he’ll have to get rid of the witnesses, blah blah blah. It’s basically the same paragraph repeated a few times... But you know what? It’s better than the whiny shit we’ve been getting and it’s nice to actually see the ‘good’ vampires struggle in a not completely idiotic way... so I ain’t that mad at it.

I was actually enjoying it a bit until Meyer stuck her dumb in my chocolate by having Edward rip a bit of wood off the desk. Like no one would have heard that. Or wonder why there’s a pile of sawdust under Edward’s desk.

Edward... I know that you’re far older than anyone in that room but... calling people children is just fucking creepy. Stop.

He calculates the best way to slurp Bella up and kill witnesses in the most efficient way (interrupted occasionally by an eye-roll worthy melodramatic thought about murdering innocents). I would like this if it wasn’t such a stark reminder of how Edward doesn’t actually give two fucks about humans – he just doesn’t want to disappoint his Not-Dad... who, from what we’ve seen in the guide (shudder) doesn’t really seem to care either as long as he’s not the one doing the murdering. They don’t kill people not because they care or want to protect them but because Dad said not to.

Bella sits down beside him (And he’s absolutely sure she’s terrified of him though she’s shown no sign of that and HE CAN’T READ HER THOUGHTS.)

Anyway, he whines that now he has to kill her for existing.

This is another little plothole that bothers me: he doesn’t have to stay in the classroom. He can ask to be excused, say he’s feeling sick or he has to use the bathroom. Yeah, it would draw a few moments of attention but, you know, IT’S BETTER THAN PLOTTING THE MURDER OF THIRTY PEOPLE.

Meyer decides to call me out on that thought and claims:

Every life in this room was in danger while she and I were in it together. I should run. I wanted to run, to get away from the heat of her next to me, and the punishing pain of the burning, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that if I unlocked my muscles to move, even just to stand, I wouldn’t lash out and commit the slaughter I’d already planned.

Fuck you, he only needs to resist for the half-a-dozen seconds it’d take to get out of the room. But no, he’d rather try and resist for an hour instead.

He, again, talks about Bella’s skin and calls it ‘See-through’.

Sexy

Edward’s becomes increasingly paranoid that Bella’s ‘trying to hide her secrets from him’.

Chillax, Eddie. She ain’t that deep.

He changes tactics. He’ll try to get her alone and his plan for this is flawless!

If he asks to walk her to her next class, she has to be polite and say yes! Even though he’s certain she’s terrified of him (because he completely fails at reading human reactions if he can’t read their minds), she’ll have to do the polite thing! Because reasons!

While he doesn’t realize how stupid that is, he does notice that everyone with an interest in ladies is already obsessing over Ms. Swan so people will probably notice him leading her away like the serial killer he is.

So he plots to wait until she gets home to murder her.

And you guys, he just hates her so much! I mean, he hates himself but he hates her for making him hate himself but also her because she exists but also himself but also her but also himself...

And apparently that was his entire thought process for the next hour because class is suddenly over!

Edward runs out of the room – you know, the thing he said he couldn’t do before because even just moving might prompt him to murder everything – and mopes in his car where he realizes that ‘Wait... I don’t have to do the thing’.

He wonders why Alice didn’t break their cover and draw attention to themselves by barging into Edward’s class to help him get rid of either his murder-boner or the bodies caused by his murder-boner. He decides that she’s focusing on making sure Jasper doesn’t get a murder-boner and she’s concentrating ‘vary’ hard on that.

(Is pointing out typos a bit too petty? Maybe but I did it.)

And Edward feels a new burn coursing through his body! The burn of SHAME!

(I'm glad I got to use this Gif so early on!)

I should say that, through out all of this, Edward’s been going on about his little monster (not that one) growling around his head but all I can imagine are the critters from Critters Attack:

He decides to just avoid Bella as much as possible while being in the same building as her and goes to try and change his classes halfway through the semester.

He startles Mrs. Cope by being so vampirey, though humans are too stupid to notice that, because he came in quietly while she wasn’t paying attention. Her panties are immediately soaked at the sight of teenage boy bod (ew) and asks how she could help him. Eddie lays it on thick because... I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she’s not in charge of the classes, so there’s no reason for him to make her flood the office like this...

Even he’s uncomfortable but he still does it. Gross.

Also, statistically, women prefer men close to their own age or slightly older, so...

We get a whole paragraph of Mrs. Cope thinking of how smart and perfect the Cullens are – actually thinking the line ‘Perfect Cullen’.

When she says that he can’t change or drop the class, he tries to stare her into submission, lamenting that his eyes aren’t gold but the terrifying black instead.

Uh... dark dark brown, almost black eyes are pretty common and can be very alluring. Have you forgotten Ben Barnes exists?! Here, I'll remind you:

I’d be more freaked out by the gold.

Bella, of course, interrupts this awkward seduction and sends Edward running with his tail between his legs. He passes by some random guy in the parking lot and, since Edward is so all important, the guy wonders where Edward came from and, instead of deciding he must not have noticed him before (Like a normal person not in a SMeyer book would do) he decides his imagination is getting the better of him.

Edward makes it to the Volvo where the others are waiting. He takes off like a bat out of hell (lawl) and in a moment of stupid where Meyer, once again, forgets how her characters's powers work:

She looked ahead for me now. We both processed what she saw in her head, and we were both surprised.

“You’re leaving?” she whispered.

You see... Alice’s visions are based on people’s decisions... Edward didn’t know he was leaving until he saw that Alice saw he was leaving... which makes no sense in the context of what we’ve been given.

And so, after a moment of Edward thinking about killing Bella, he decides to flee the entire country.

And that’s the end of chapter one! It took me way longer than I expected and I used 74 tabs... This is going to be an experience and a half...

Until next time, I'm out!

#Book Snark #Midnight Sun #Twilight

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