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sukunasweetheart · 3 years ago

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when he falls in love

Sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings; yandere/toxic sukuna, manipulation, some hinting at murder, death of a loved one, tiny bit of breeding kink, voyeurism and degradation, contains only little smut, sukuna’s so terrible but so good

Word count: 1.7k

When Sukuna falls in love, he falls in love quite beautifully.

When he falls in love, he feels the wild thrum of his heart against his ribcage, he feels the prickly sensation of a delicious shock running through his flesh, and he feels the edges of his mind that were once sharp, erode into a soft pile of dust.

When he falls in love, that is the only thing he thinks about, every second of the day.

It is rather outrageous, after all. Who would dare shake his soul like this? Who would dare make him feel the absolutely ludicrous emotion, that is, love? Who would dare?

But despite all this, Sukuna remains calm and collected. There is not a single shift of change within his facial muscles as he orders his usual drink from you at the counter, in the coffee shop you work at. Truth be told, the quality of the beans and its taste is nothing special. If he is to be harsh about it, he could even say that it’s below average, exactly the kind of flavour he anticipates for coffee that’s made for the everyday person.

But it’s something that’s been touched by you, so he will gladly sip on it slowly, while he attempts to chat with you during the quiet hours of your shift.

There’s a certain sparkle in your eyes that he loves looking at, a sparkle that he’s only ever seen in you. He pushes back important meetings with very important people, leaves his paperwork unfinished, leaves his extravagant and fancy office at the top of his company building empty without his presence, just to see you again, and again.

Slowly sinking himself into your life, Sukuna cleverly weaves his time into yours, so that fate abides to his will. Gradually, you find that you’ve gotten very close to the strange CEO who seems to have too much time and too much money on his hands.

So close, that one day, you decide to ask him for advice with your little one-sided crush on another man.

The cup of coffee that he’s lifting up to his lips stops mid-air, as he replays your words in his mind like a broken recorder. He doesn’t take the sip, and instead places the cup back onto its saucer, with a soft clink. Mustering up a friendly smile, Sukuna tells you;

“Of course, doll. Tell me all about him.”

And he can’t stand it. He can’t stand the way you talk about him. He can’t stand the fact that your mind is occupied by someone else.

At his desk, his fingertips tap against the surface rhythmically, the glossy sheen of his black nails showing every time they go up, and then down. Lips pursed into a flat line, he thinks, and thinks, and thinks. He skim reads over the obtained profile of that man you are so enamoured by, and sighs.

You have no keen eye for men. It beats him, how you could’ve fallen for someone as boring as this fool. Rolling his chair back away from his desk, he spins around to face the glass windows of his penthouse office. Standing up, he stares down at the city below with arms crossed.

There’s always a way around everything. Maybe not entirely possible for most, but for Sukuna, it most certainly is.

“Uraume,” he beckons. “I have a little extra task for you to do.”

When Sukuna falls in love, it can be quite beautiful.

But only in the same way that a white rose dyed red with blood is beautiful.

At the funeral, you let out the most heart-wrenching sobs as you crumble down before your best friend’s coffin. How could this have happened? That your lifelong friend, whom you have spent your best and worst days with, be murdered by-

“Oh, doll…I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice approaches. His arms come around you, comforting you greatly.

“To think that the man of your affection would do such a terrible thing. Truly twisted.”

You fall apart at the seams within his hold, and he coos at you gently. Fret not - he shall sew you back together, good as new.

“Don’t worry. I’ll use the best of my ability to make sure he receives the most severe punishment he deserves.”

The case earns nation-wide attention, as the perpetrator of such a brutal murder, your little former crush, refuses to plead guilty despite the blaring evidence that all points towards him.

Please listen to me! I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me! I’m being wrongfully framed-

Angry tears fill your eyes as you turn the TV screen off.

A few days later, he seems to have gotten into a fatal car accident on his way to prison, instantly killing everyone within the vehicle. Sukuna hides the corner of his mouth that tugs upwards ever so slightly behind his hand. A faulty police car, the news had informed.

“...He should’ve rotted away in prison. This is too lenient,” you say with deep grief in your eyes, fists shaking with anger.

It is times like these, where Sukuna seems to swoop in to be of great comfort to you, coddling you under his care at your most vulnerable state. He wipes at your eyes gently and finds ways to make you feel better - how could you not fall for him?

He’d helped with the preparations for your friend’s funeral. Stayed with you to make sure you weren’t grieving alone. Assigned his best lawyers and used his connections with the police to help achieve "justice", gaining the life imprisonment that the man deserved, just as he’d promised. Though it was a shame that he had to go and die before serving any of that time.

It had started off with only feelings of thankfulness, at first. But now, it’s turning into something a little more than that.

You’re painfully self conscious around him now. Wondering if you look, smell, act okay. Whether your clothes aren’t too wrinkly, or whether you’ve used a sufficient amount of perfume or if your make up is a little too dense today. You hold your breath when he gets a little too close and your eyes wander around his perfect body for longer than before. His cologne intoxicatingly beckons you in, inviting you to come closer.

Welcome home.

Sukuna notices the change immediately, and he thinks, finally - finally, you’re coming to me.

The day that you confess to him, he grins as if he’d been expecting it all along, and accepts you with open arms.

Sukuna struck you as someone who is quite the gentleman - considerate and compassionate, civilised and well-mannered.

Yet here he is, bending your body back into lewd positions, pens and papers fluttering to the ground from his desk as he has you strewn across it - thrusting into you vehemently. His office is supposedly soundproof, and he rarely has any visitors from most employees besides his secretary, Uraume.

That doesn’t stop you from worrying however, but - what is this odd feeling? You feel a little thrilled when you think about getting seen by someone else like this. Not that you have a moment’s peace within your mind to properly think about it - not when his cock reaches so deeply into your core.

His talking is still smooth and suave, his voice dripping with honey, but the words that he whispers are so indecent. They’re words that you’d never imagined would come out of his mouth. Sukuna helps you discover things about yourself, things that you would’ve turned your head away from if anyone else had suggested them. Whatever it is that he decides to do with your body - you end up enjoying it.

And you’re starting to fear; maybe you really are the “slut” that he claims you are in bed. You just can’t control yourself when he rolls his tongue around yours like that. When his load seeps into your womb, making you feel so warm and fulfilled. But again, there is no need to worry. Sukuna will cater to your needs willingly - as long as you remain as his good little girlfriend.

Not long after, he proposes, and you accept him in a heartbeat. He’s convinced that you’re his, and he’s yours - which you agree with, wholeheartedly.

Sukuna showers you with his riches, holding a perfect wedding with the perfect wedding dress. You’re a little overwhelmed by the amount of people who attend, people from high positions coming to congratulate him and bringing their own gifts to the ceremony, but you manage to endure it through. And he rewards you generously for that, during the night of your wedding.

Former girlfriend and now his wife, Sukuna couldn’t be happier. He has you curled up in his lap while he languidly smiles, tilting his head back slightly, looking at the ceiling thoughtlessly.

Sukuna always gets what he wants. He always wins in the end. And this might as well be the biggest victory of his life.

You still regularly visit your best friend’s memorial to pay your respects - and he frees up his schedule to follow along every time. Though he doesn’t understand it, he finds it cute, when you speak to the corpse buried beneath, as if they are alive to hear you.

When you’re done, you start walking back as per usual. Sukuna lingers behind, standing before the tombstone with the most cunning grin on his face. He thinks trying out the way you approach it wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m most certainly grateful; for your sacrifice.” He chuckles to himself. It does feel a little awkward after all, talking to a dead person.

“Thanks to you, I’ll be the one making her happy - for the rest of her life.”

After walking for a fair bit and realising that your husband isn’t following you back, you turn around to see him still standing before the tombstone. From this distance, it seems as though he’s really paying his respects to your friend - and that makes you feel all warm and touched on the inside. You call out his name and he looks at you, smiling.

“Coming, darling.”

When Sukuna falls in love, it is definitely something beautiful - in the most sick and twisted way possible. But you don’t need to know that last little part, do you?

He’ll make sure that you never find out.

Pt. 2 sequel

Masterlist

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #yandere sukuna

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justatinybunwriting · 3 years ago

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The Cookie Thief

I've posted this drawing before on my old account, but what you may not know is that there's a small snippet that I wrote to go along with it! Since it did relatively well on another site, I figured I'd share it here ^^ Full short story is under the cut!

A blinding light suddenly peered in from the crack that was formed, which had consumed all but the shadows that were on the furthest edges of the "room." Jac's window of escape was long gone, as there was no way she could have been able to dive through the gap in the walls in time. She knew she had to accept her fate the moment she swung her head around to face the one obstacle that stood between her and the prized treasure chest.

Richard had a feeling that the little trouble maker was up to no good when he failed to catch sight of her for the last half hour. Thankfully for him, Jac had underestimated the Wile giant's exceptionally keen nose. When he opened the pantry door he could only sigh at the would be cookie thief- at the very least he didn't catch her stuffing herself with the enormous baked sweets just yet, though it was not a moment too soon.

"I don't know how you got in there," Richard said with a playful glint. "But you could have just asked."

Jac huffed. "You're probably just going to give me the human sized cookies like you've always done!"

"True. But don't you think that giant sized sweets are a little bit, I dunno... bad for you? Hm?"

Jac could only give out a small groan in response. Richard then presented a hand to the smaller human, placing it palm up next to her feet.

"Care for a lift?"

"Am I goin to jail, officer?" Jac teased with a slight displeasure in her tone. Richard opened his eyes widely to that remark but he returned to his normal wily expression within a second's time.

"No? You've got to remember Jac, I have to be in the mood for that. I'm not very hungry right now."

"I'm surprised you turned that down."

Richard almost regretted what he had just said, but he snapped himself right out of it. "The only thing you're getting for this is... uh, eating a whole plate of veggies for supper. You can get one Oreo after that."

"NO! YOU CAN'T GET AWAY WITH THIS!! THAT'S CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT!!"

With that statement, Jac scurried to the back of the cabinet. And thus began a feeble attempt to climb up a giant sized cookie tin. Richard gave out yet another sigh before he scooped up the tiny woman in a gentle yet firm grip; squirm as she might, there was no way Jac could get out of the Wile giant's hand. When he opened his palms, Jac had her arms crossed with her cheeks puffed as much as she could fill them up with air.

"Don't give me that look." Richard replied. "You know what giant sweets will do to you."

"I'm aware..."

Jac couldn't hold that momentum for much longer, and that frown had turned into more of a pout, with a hint of sorrow.

Richard could assume that the effort she took to get to where he found her couldn't have been easy. And after he saw her turn genuinely upset about this his heart ached... almost. He glanced back at the assorted cookies in their containers before turning his head towards his best friend on his hand. At that exact time, a light bulb went off in his head.

"All right, all right." He said as he placed Jac down on the dining table.

He pulled out the tin that held the chocolate chips and opened the lid, which in turn caused Jac to have renewed sparkles in her eyes. Upon noticing, this had caused Richard to roll his. He then pulled out a single chip from a cookie and dropped it on her awaiting hands, and in a blink of an eye she devoured it with a few large bites.

"Jeebus Christ, Jac..." A slightly unnerved Richard scoffed. "You weren't supposed to warf it down!"

"That's not much different from how you eat sometimes."

"Hey! At... least Wile giants can handle it better than humans can. Next time, slow it down a little!"

"There's a next time?" Jac took that opportunity straight away.

"Uh... well! If I don't see you breaking into my stuff again before tonight, then I'll give you one more chocolate chip after dinner. But that's it for giant sweets for a while."

"Deal!"

She shook Richard's index finger to that. Somehow, however, Richard had a feeling that she was not going to stick to her end of the bargain.

#bun draws #bun writes #oc: jac #oc: richard #Jack in the Beanstalk Society #sfw giant #beanstalk bites #g/t writing #g/t

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novoaa1writes · 4 years ago

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honest

pairing(s): daisy johnson x nb!reader, melinda may & nb!reader (familial)

summary:

coming out is never easy—even when you’ve got reliable people in corner.

contains: angst & fluff with happy ending

(also available on ao3.)

word count: ~2,000

rating: teen

warnings: sparring, self-doubt; anxiety (not chronic); muscle pains, bruises, and aches (from exertion); mild language; coming out; discussions of gender and sexuality

notes:

in my head, this is staged at the playground somewhere in season 2-3ish of marvel’s agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

— —

disclaimer: this is in no way reflective of the experiences of all non-binary individuals everywhere. as someone who’s recently had the realization that i am Not Woman and Not Man and has been subsequently made to have some rather difficult conversations with those closest to me about changing up pronouns, this is simply based off of my own experience and struggles with my gender / sexuality. it’s a uniquely personal thing to come to terms with, and it’s different for everyone.

feel free to message me if you’d like to talk about it!

— —

You let out a long, slow breath, eyeing yourself critically in the bathroom mirror.

Nervous eyes, shower-damp skin, lower lip swollen and puffy from biting it relentlessly—an obtrusive testament to the overwhelming abundance of unease ballooning in your chest.

Yeah. Seems about right.

“C’mon, Y/N,” you grumble, taking great care to pitch your voice well below the hum of the fan overhead. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The more insistent you become, the less you believe it.

“It’s just Daisy,” you continue, silently willing yourself to remain undeterred by the crushing doubt that gnaws away at your insides. “She’ll understand.”

... But will she?

You frown at your reflection, skin prickling with frustration. “And if she doesn’t…” you trail off, hating the quiver in your voice for betraying your weakness. “If she doesn’t, then you shouldn’t be with her anyways.” Your voice comes out stronger this time, even if the words themselves are enough to scare you shitless.

You like Daisy. Could grow to love her, even.

Being with her… it’s made you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life, and damn it all, but you mean that.

“She’s going to understand,” you say aloud. “She will.”

God, you pray that that’s true.

— —

7:00am sees you getting your ass thrown violently all across the mats by an ever-indomitable Melinda May, racking up bruises and scratches and aches like no one’s business.

By the time 9:00am hits, you’re a wheezing mess, sprawled spread-eagled atop the sparring mats—lungs on fire, chest heaving for breath; sweat-drenched skin littered with technicolored bruising.

In short, it’s hellish.

“C’mon,” May urges, tone curt and even. She looms imposingly down upon you from above, a decidedly unamused expression gracing her elegant features—and, get this: not a single hair out of place, nor a hint of labored breathing.

You groan and squint up at her, searching for—

A-ha!

There, just above one immaculately-manicured brow and, like, two millimeters beneath her hairline—a tiny little droplet of perspiration. As you watch, it seems to absorb itself into her flawless skin—disappearing before your eyes like it was never even there.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you grumble.

May just raises a single brow, offering you a hand up. “Up.”

You frown at her but don’t push your luck; rather, you accept the proffered hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. Your arms and legs and abdominal muscles all scream in protest as you lurch upright into a flat-footed stance, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

Training with May—torturous (and often humiliating) as it may be—is voluntary. Something you chose, and continue to choose even despite the unadulterated hell it puts your body through with every swift kick and bone-jarring punch.

Not only that, you’re lucky to study opposite someone as fearless, skilled, and fucking terrifying as Melinda May.

Even when your limbs are all ache-y and sore and burning with a pain beyond your years, you know that.

Still…

You probably could’ve done without this today. After all, getting your ass kicked for a solid two hours all across the mats doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. And, considering the conversation you plan to have with Daisy this afternoon, you’re gonna need to muster up all the confidence you can get.

— —

“Spit it out,” May prompts, sidling up to match you stride for stride as you take a couple cool-down laps around the miniature track (¼ the size of a regulation model)... walking, that is. Not jogging.

Honestly, you think that if you even tried jogging right now, you’d pass out.

You spare her a sidelong glance as the two of you round the bend, perfectly in sync. “What?”

May purses her lips, giving you a look. “You were sloppy today,” she remarks pointedly. “Distracted.”

Her stare seems to burn holes through the side of your head.

“Wow, thanks,” you mumble. The sardonic quip tastes funny coming off your tongue.

“You were off today,” May reiterates, sidestepping your wisecrack entirely. Her footsteps are soundless even as the soles of your beat-up Air Force Ones slap the tread audibly with every stride. “That doesn’t happen often.”

“Sure it does.” You shrug. “You kicked my ass today, same as always. If you ask me—” You hesitate briefly at the look on May’s face, which is plainly screaming ‘I didn’t’ “—today’s been anything but out of the ordinary.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” May remarks without missing a beat. It’s like she didn’t even hear you (which you damn well know that she did).

Still, you don’t do her the disservice of arguing the point any further.

You walk another ten paces in perfect silence—no, twelve. You know because you count each one.

Unsurprisingly, you’re first to break the immersive quiet. “I think I want to tell Daisy.”

May’s impartial expression doesn’t change. “About?”

You almost roll your eyes, but manage to curb the impulse at the very last second. “You know what about.”

Hell, May was the first person you told. You came to her quarters hyperventilating in the dead of night, tears streaming down both cheeks and a sense of such deep-seated discomfort swelling in your chest, your ribs positively ached with the force of it.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You bite your lower lip, apprehension gnawing at your insides. “About…” You trail off, internally scolding yourself. This shouldn’t be so fucking hard. “About me being… non-binary.”

Non-binary.

What a flimsy little term. So matter-of-fact… almost scientific in nature. And yet, the way it affects you is nothing short of visceral—all-encompassing and monstrous, compressing your very lungs in an iron-clad vice until it’s agony to draw breath.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts ; voicing this simple reality that’s plagued you since you were very small, looming malignantly in the margins of everything you do… and yet, the truth of it rings keen and strong in your ears—clear as a bell.

It’s liberating and frightful all in one; a grating juxtaposition, to be clear.

“Yes.” The sound of May’s uncharacteristically gentle intonation cuts clean through the blaring noise in your head, yanking you out from a sea of inner turmoil with startling decision. “I’m proud of you.”

Her words—gently-spoken as they may be—hit you like consecutive sucker punches to the gut. “What?” you choke, forcing out a breathless chuckle.

May—predictably—is staunch, unyielding… wholly undeterred. “You’re being true to yourself,” she insists, matching you step for step as you start in on lap two. Your chest burns something awful and your legs aren’t much better, but you pay it little mind. “That’s no small thing.”

“It’s terrifying,” you tell her. As far as you’re concerned, that’s something of an understatement.

She nods. “It often is.”

“What if… What if I tell her and she doesn’t like me anymore?”

May raises a single brow. “Daisy, a known bisexual who has stated on more than one occasion that the gender binary is ‘stupid’ and ‘exclusionary’? Daisy, who’s been on dates with more than one openly non-binary person in the past?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

May—bless her heart—doesn’t snort or sigh or roll her eyes, but you can tell it’s not for lack of wanting. Instead, she merely slants you a pointed look that says, ‘Exactly.’

You walk the next six strides in silence, your feet aching in your shoes.

“I’m going to tell her,” you say eventually, a tinge of cautious certainty creeping into your tone. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince—yourself, or May.

All the same, May is nothing if not steady and dependable amidst stormy seas; she always knows just what to say. (Or, what not to say, as it were.)

There are no tears, no hugs, no flowery platitudes… nothing but a sharp nod of approval and the barest hint of a grin curving her lips, like she sees you for who you are and she approves—like she’s proud, even. You don’t know how else to translate the tender mercy in her eyes, the way it seems to warm you from the inside out.

Yeah, you can tell Daisy.

You’re going to tell Daisy.

And May’s gonna be right there beside you the whole time.

— —

In retrospect, you definitely could’ve gone about this better.

Like, you weren’t exactly going for the kind of heartfelt reconciliation you’d see in some coming-of-age sap-fest movie on the big screen; and it’s not as though there’s an exact script to follow for all this, but…

Pulling away from a decidedly heated kiss to blurt out, “I’m not a woman”—and doing so while you’re half-naked and straddling the lap of a similarly scantily-clad Daisy in bed, no less—definitely hadn’t been your first choice.

Judging by the expression on Daisy’s pretty features—which is caught somewhere between taken aback and genuinely concerned—she’s coming to the same conclusion.

To her credit, though, she recovers quickly—though the crease between her brows (a testament to her lingering bewilderment) remains. “What?”

You swallow thickly, carding your fingers through her tousled hair—a nervous habit of yours you’d developed as of late. “I’m…” You sigh, apprehension building in your chest. “I’m not a woman.”

Daisy’s brows raise marginally even as she offers a shallow nod, wide attentive eyes steadfastly holding yours. “Okay…” she begins gently, rubbing circles into the bare skin above your left hipbone with a callused thumb—a subtle nudge for you to continue.

“I just—I don’t feel like a woman,” you say, and this time it’s easier, even if the sheer measure of honesty in that statement is enough to make your stomach turn. “And I don’t feel like a man, either.”

Understanding flares in Daisy’s pretty brown eyes. “Okay,” she says again. “So, you’re not a woman…” She pauses, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss upon your shoulder. “And you’re not a man,” she continues, lifting her jaw to study you face-to-face, the tip of her pert nose brushing up against your own. “Which means… ?”

“I’m, um,” you squirm a bit, shifting atop her bare thighs, “... non-binary.” Your cheeks are hot, burning with shame, and you have never been so grateful that your skin is tawny enough to conceal it.

Daisy doesn’t blink. “Okay,” she replies, then leans forth to place a barely-there peck atop your lips.

You frown down at her, lips tingling. “‘Okay’?” you repeat.

Daisy grins, leaning in for another kiss—and you’re all too quick to indulge her even as your thoughts spin and disbelief wars violently with consternation within your chest.

Her lips are soft and warm against your own; when her tongue flits out to trace your lips, you’re parting them in an instant to meet her halfway; the sensation of kissing her is nothing short of euphoric, and you surrender willfully unto it like leaves in the brisk autumn wind.

Seconds pass, or maybe it’s minutes, but she’s catching your lower lip between her teeth and you’re sucking on the tip of her tongue and—

Quite suddenly, the kiss has become nothing short of filthy—all open-mouthed and desperate and bruising just how you like, and damn it all, but you can finish the rest of the conversation another time.

For now… well. You’re preoccupied with other things.

— —

(Later that night, when you’re both laid up in bed and drifting off to sleep, Daisy asks if you’d like her to start referring to you as ‘they’ and ‘them’ rather than ‘she’ and ‘her.’

When you answer in the affirmative, telling her that nothing would make you happier, the sheer measure of honesty in your words doesn’t feel nearly as nauseating as it did before.

In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

The way Daisy reacts—a murmured, “Okay”; a feather-light kiss upon your forehead; two strong arms pulling you closer in the dark… well. That’s just icing on the cake.

Despite everything—the self-doubt, the second guessing, the aching soreness settling into the very marrow of your bones—you feel yourself break out into a broad grin beneath the pitch-dark cover of night.

You feel good; comfortable in your own skin. You feel… happy.)

— —

end notes: i want melinda may to be my friend.

LINK TO MASTERLIST

#stuff i wrote #daisy johnson x reader #melinda may & reader #daisy johnson x nb!reader #melinda may & nb!reader #nb!reader #non-binary reader #reader-insert #marvel fic #quake x reader #quake x nb!reader

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analviel · 4 years ago

Text

BAD BAT: an old thing I found in one of my notes, just wanted to share, not gonna continue it at all, I have no idea what I had planned for it.

Tim needed to do something.

Anything.

Anything but sit in front of the Bat-computer, staring.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Tim needed to do something. Now.

But he couldn't because blood was rushing in his ears and his mind was sluggish, a desperate attempt to protect himself as his world crashed around him not for the first time.

This time, he didn't, wouldn't, have Batman beside him.

Because Batman-

Because Bruce-

Tim stared and stared and stared and all the evidence stared back.

The face of Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake stared back.

Robin stared back.

And of course Tim's mind had already made the connection, had already completed the picture, had already matched it to reality and filled in the blank spaces he hadn't even been aware was there.

Oh, god.

Combined with his sickness that had him benched for the night and the sudden, shocking, knowledge that Batman had killed his parents, had killed Robin's parents, Tim staggered to his feet and off his seat, socks slipping on the cool cave floors as he stumbled towards the nearest bin and upended his dinner. And lunch and breakfast and the other dinner until he was left dry heaving and crying in the Batcave over the stink of his vomit.

Oh, god.

Tim needed to do something.

Tim needed to start thinking of what to do.

The action was easy, instinct, trained. Retrieving one of his Robin storage from his jacket, Tim scrambled back to the computer to fumble with sticking it in, copying the entire file and all the incriminating evidence.

Methodically, he returned it back to its previous encryption, erased the backdoor he made, and burned every hint that he'd even come anywhere close to the file. So very, very aware of the chill of the cave, cold fingers digging in his inside, and senses peaked for any presence in the cold, cold cavern.

Now what?

Tim stared at the black of the screen of the Bat-computer and missed the light.

Shock, he distantly thought. He was in shock.

Robin- Tim stared down at the gold chip in his hand. So tiny. So harmless. And now it contained everything that could make or break.... a lot of things. A lot of people.

Oh god. Where was he going to go?

Oh, god.

Did he want to go?

Because Batman-

Because Bruce-

Bruce is Tim's father. The only father he's left.

And-

And maybe he's wrong.

(Denial.)

Maybe someone was trying to frame Batman. To turn his own family against him and what kind of son was Tim if he let himself be fooled so easily.

This couldn't....

This couldn't be right.

Tim took a shaky inhale.

Shook his head.

But if it was right then his current train of thought was all wrong.

Tim....

Tim was always left with the hard decisions wasn't he?

This wouldn't be the first time and he had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be the last.

So with an exhale, Tim yanked himself into the backseat of his mind and let training and objectivity slide in the slot of the driver.

In Tim's hand was evidence that Bruce Wayne, his adoptive father, had orchestrated the death of Dick's, Jason's, and Tim's parents deaths.

And just putting those in words, even just in his mind, almost had him with the knee jerk reaction to crash his mind just to stop thinking about it.

Now Tim didn't know what to do but he, undoubtedly, had to do something. Anything.

Well, anything that hopefully wouldn't get him killed by the man he considered his father-

Bad Tim. Don't think about that. Not now.

Later.

Who was he supposed to go with this information?

Alfred?

..... Tim didn't know. Everything he knew about Alfred said that the man would've never condoned this if he knew.

But everything Tim had known about Batman said the same.

Tim was too scared to be wrong and maybe even more afraid to be right.

Oracle? No.

Babs was a badass but she was vulnerable to Batman. She might be able to help, distanced from the situation as she was, certainly would be able to make better decisions than Tim currently could, but Batman could get to her -and it was easier to think Batman than Bruce- and Tim didn't want anyone hurt, least of all her.

Wether this was real or not and regardless of the growing part of him that wanted to shut it all out.

Tim was running out of time.

His mind was working against him.

And wasn't that a chilling thought because suddenly the word brainwashing and reprogramming-

Not now, Tim.

The sound of footsteps, faint and purposeful, was like a shot through his chest.

Tim stuffed the stick in a skin coloured garter pocket wrapped around his calf.

"Master Timothy- My goodness, young man."

Oh yeah. He didn't just feel sick, he probably looked the whole shebang.

He turned and he was vaguely glad that he didn't need to fake a smile or what when Alfred crossed the distance between them with a pinched expression, because he really didn't think he could put up any expression other than shock. And that he could barely hold up as it slowly gave way to despair and- and just an amalgamation of emotions he couldn't start even naming much less dealing with.

Alfred rested a hand on his forehead, "Young man, how long have you been down here? It seems your cold has worsen. Hardly a surprise when you spend your time down in this damp basement."

Who was he supposed to go to?

Tim had only a handful of options.

Alfred, Barbara, and-

And Dick.

Oh, god, did Dick know?

He tilted to the right and Alfred caught him, lips pursed. Everything feels like it's trapped behind murky water.

"I think that's enough. Go up to your room now and rest, Master Timothy."

Dick would've warned him, right? If Dick had known, his big brother would've told him, right? He wouldn't have let this happen.

Dick was-

His big brother.

Dick wasn't his only brother. Wasn't the last option.

Jason.

Oh. It's weird to attach that label to that name.

Weird.

Not bad.

The older boy -man? he's never quite sure what to call them, neither word sounding right- never really acknowledge him as such, it was probably beyond presumptuous for Tim to think of him like that even in the quite of his mind, but....

Tim's head shot up, almost headbutting Alfred.

"You're right, Alfred. I'm- I'm going to go up."

He ignored how weak his voice sounded and moved away from the butler towards the manor, just barely managing not to break into a run.

Then he was breaking out into a run once he's out of sight, past the many rooms and halls of the Wayne manor, and throwing open the door of his room. Without a single pause, he picked up random semi-presentable garments off the floor and wiggled out of his pyjamas to put them on, digging around his closet for the black box containing his customised watch to strap on his wrist, and grabbing his skateboard, a sticky note, and a pen on his way out.

Tim slapped a 'do not disturb, sleeping' note on his door. Fifty-fifty that the warning would be heeded, every second would count.

Tim turned on the micro computer in his watch as he snuck out of the manor and past the grounds, using the shadows of the night and his innate predilection for stealth to his advantage.

~*~

A banging on the door had Jason grabbing a gun, Kori standing at attention, and Roy training an arrow at the window.

They were in one of his safe houses in Gotham, a short stop to pick up some supplies, patching each other up from their latest mission, before they're going straight back to the base.

No one should be knocking on this apartment.

Jason exchanged glances with the others and slowly approached the door-

"Please! Jason, I know you're in there! Please, please open up! Please, oh god, please open up!"

Robin.

He'd know that voice anywhere, practically his largest trigger for the Pit Madness-

He sounded desperate. In fact, if he was hearing right through the hardwood, the boy was practically sobbing.

Already knowing who it was, and feeling a trickle of worry in the back of his head despite himself, Jason sped up the rest of the way and pulled the door open to see Tim Drake in all his civilian teen glory. Pale, red rimmed eyes, and choking on his breath.

Out of his armor.

Defenceless in front of Jason.

Not Robin.

The boy didn't even wait for an invite, stumbling inside and grabbing the door out of his hands and slamming it close behind him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing kid?" Jason growled, letting all his menace fill the air.

Roy raised an eyebrow.

It was strange to see Jason being like this with a kid.

But Tim Drake was different.

No, not really. Jason was just a hypocrite who didn't do what he preach and wasn't actually all that better from those scums he put bullets in.

And Tim- Tim just stared.

So miserably it was the only thing keeping the green at bay from flaring as it usually did around his replacement.

That and the fact that, this time, if Jason was going to do something, he'd have to look Tim Drake in the eyes.

"Did- did you know?"

The question was so quiet he almost didn't catch it with his thoughts still swirling.

Jason blinked, "What."

And Tim sobbed, sliding down to the floor in a breakdown and Jason's mind blanked.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jason thought where was Dick?

(The last time he thought that, he was in a warehouse and a crowbar was falling on him.)

"I-" Hands came up to wipe at the tears in vain, "It was my fault. If I didn't- dad, and mom, they- and Bruce-"

Tim made some sort of keening sound and, yeah, he wasn't going to get anything out of the kid in his current state.

And Jason was hyperaware of his teammates behind him, waiting for his lead.

Jason dropped in a crouch barely an arms length away. The kid didn't even flinch, didn't make any indication that he was aware in how much danger he was currently in.

His cheeks were flushed and he was sweating in a way that had Jason suspecting that his temperature was higher than normal.

"Kid.... Tim...." it was a challenge to keep his voice at least not aggressive. The boy choked on another sob, blue eyes purple in the dim lighting as he looked at him, and oh, fuck, he was hyperventilating.

Jason needed him present.

And there was only one sure way he knew to do that.

"Robin. Calm down." He said in that exact same pitch he did.

But to Jason's confusion and actual rising concern, rather than freezing and gradually falling back to trained breathing, Tim paled -how that was even possible with how pale he already was, Jason didn't know- and reeled back in horror, chest stuttering.

Shit.

Jason watched him.

He shook his head, but at least his eyes seemed more present now, "Don't- don't call me that, please."

Well, if he hadn't already thought so before, now he knew with certainty that it was Bruce that got his Robin running towards his homicidal predecessor.

Go figure.

"Hey, kid. Tim. You need to calm down. Mainly, because you're not gonna get out whatever you came here to tell me or whatever, and partly because I ain't promising I'm not gonna get violent if you keep wasting my time."

.... It was exactly what he wanted to say, but as usual, something in him got a bit complicated. Not quite regret.

But closest he was probably going to get.

He felt that around Tim a lot.

Tim hiccupped, finally falling back on training to shove aside the hysteria. Then he pulled himself to his feet, eyes staying locked on Jason's and completely ignoring the two.

He presented him with something gold and Jason looked at it with a raised eyebrow as he straightened himself.

"I-" he cleared his throat, "I don't know- Just. Jason, you need to see this- no, I mean, you need to leave Gotham, immediately, and then read it. Everything. Don't- Don't come back until you do, please. That's-"

He ran his hand through his hair the second he was sure Jason wasn't going to drop the stick, looking torn between being as far away from it as he could and snatching it back.

He exhaled a gust, deflating, staring at the older boy morosely, sparing a glance at his friends.

"I don't know what to do, Jason. I- I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't think...... I don't want to think anymore, please. I'm sorry. I could be wrong, I'm probably wrong, I'm being stupid and just overreacting and- and I don't know what to do when I get back. I don't know if anyone else knows, if Alfred-" his voice hitched, "Or, Dick, or- or Superman, I just. I just don't know-"

Jason watched the teen practically break in front of him and in a split second decision, he telegraphed his actions.

And pulled Tim Drake into a hug.

"Calm down. Calm down. Breathe."

He didn't coo, and his voice wasn't designed to be soothing. It was almost a demand actually but it worked and Tim stopped babbling and after a few minutes of complete silence and Jason's hand awkwardly drawing circles on his back, their breathing were in sync.

"... Thank you." Tim said to his chest, and fuck, the kid was short and so fucking small how did he not bleed out-, "Thank you, Jason. I'm going to go- go home now."

And because, well, he didn't really know what else to do, Jason agreed and sent him out, letting him go back to the manor.

He'd regret that later.

~*~

Dick stared at his phone with a frown, worry churning in his gut.

3p.a.;bst¿!

Seemingly a random keyboard smash text from an unknown number, but was actually one of the many protocols of the contingencies his little brother absently rambled about during late nights hanging out, one of the many codes he'd memorized, not quite humoring Tim since anything was possible, but not one he'd ever worried about in their immediate future.

Batman was compromised and likely going after Dick for whatever reason.

And okay, yeah, Dick was concerned but not harried, since if it was really bad then another protocol would've been activated. Mind you, the Batman being compromised was truly something to be concerned about, but it seemed whatever was happening didn't pose the risk of Bruce dying.

That said, Batman was compromised and last Dick knew, Tim was with Batman.

And now Dick had no choice but to trust that Tim knew what he was doing and was somewhere safe for them to regroup.

Not that it stopped the familiar stone in his chest whenever he worried about his little brother -little brothers.

Dick grabbed his emergency pack and prepared to leave, for Nightwing to disappear while they fix this.

Sorry about the big block but I'm... trying to figure out how to do the read more thing on mobile.

#tim drake #dc #robin #batfam #red robin #dc comics #dick grayson #batman #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #bruce wayne #and i write #bad bat

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years ago

Note

Got to be honest... I love the mermaidau! theme too. Could you pls give us a pt2 cause I need to know how is their rlp gonna evolve. (Feel like even writing a hole 2k word fanfic with this au and im not ashamed 😂)

(Pst, anon is referring to this request!)

Mwaaaha yeeees... YEEEEES !!!! I'm so glad you guys like this au lmao 😂😂 All I have to say is, I hope y'all can come through with this mermaid au when summer hits, bc that's my JAM 😤

Even if I don't get another mermaid au request until then, like please y'all, I'm begging you lol

But anyways, tumblr has decided that doing all four on here is too long, so I’m posting half now and I’ll link Paul and Ringo before the day’s over! (Also bc I lost like half of Ringo's story last night, and I have to rewrite it, so rip :') ) Enjoy!

Paul and Ringo this way!

George

It's quite a bit before George can see you again

He had to take up a job, even with school, and practice, and family, and friends, and the occasional gig... just to save up

But when he finally got enough to buy that bike... It was all worth it

It's almost as prized a possession as his guitar, and the very next day after purchasing it, he loads up a blanket and some food and heads off for the lake

The ride from home to the water is a bit long, but nothing he can't handle

At long last, he arrives at the tiny pier and he can hardly contain himself as he sets the kickstand and grabs his things

He rushes down and sets up shop

In his excitement, George has forgotten to consider whether or not you'll even show...

But he doesn't want to give up yet

So he waits

And waits

And after a few hours pass by, he decides he might as well have his lunch instead of skipping rocks and wading in the water all afternoon

George swims over to the edge of the pier and clasps into the plank to hoist himself up

But before he can complete the maneuver, he finds himself jerked back down again

It's gentle enough that he doesn't get submerged, but it's certainly enough to give him a start

He splutters and flails a little, turning around as quick as he can to see...

Oh, it's you...

George breathes a sigh of relief, even as your eyes watch him from just above the water line, your hair floating on the surface like an angel

Your eyes go wide in excitement, and you peak your head all the way above the water, giving a soft gasp of surprise

"It is you! I can't believe you came back!"

George's heart hammers in his chest, whether it's from the surprise, the physical activity, or something else... He doesn't know

"O-of course I am! I said I would, didn't I?"

You laugh, "So you did! ...By the way, what have you got up there?"

George looks over his shoulder to the picnic basket that's clearly in view, then back at you

He waves you over and pulls himself up at last

When he's turned around, you've disappeared and George's heart drops

Well, not for long. A moment passes, followed by a huge splash as you jump from the water to the pier

It's not a perfect jump, as you need to pull yourself up a bit, but you make it well enough

George is halfway through unloading the basket, but he finds himself incredibly distracted by your tail

He doesn't mean to be rude it's just... It's almost like you weren't real before now

The tail is nearly twice the length that human legs would be. It tapers all the way down to a fine and delicate point that flares out into a transparent, forked fin

There are smaller fins like this along the rest of your tail, George notes, providing gorgeous accents to your shimmering iridescent scales

You swish your tail behind you, feeling a bit shy

George shakes himself out of his stupor, "Oh, sorry! I just... Wow"

You huff a laugh and mumble a thanks, not quite out of the awkwardness

"Um, here, I brought you something", George hands you a carefully wrapped sandwich

You give it a sniff and wait for George to taste his first

It tastes fantastic. Unlike anything you've ever had before

George tells you it's called a "ham and cheese"

Before you know it, the two of you jump into a whole conversation about life above and below water

You talk all afternoon and into the evening. George, doesn't even realize how low the sun's set until he takes a moment to stretch and look up

"Oh, I suppose you should be going..."

"Yeah..."

George looks at you and then the water one more time

It's like a pool of gold out there, the orange and yellow reflecting so beautifully on the water

"Say, how about one more swim?", George nods towards the water

Needless to say, you both race in for a last dip

You swim laps around George as he move slowly through the water, and you find yourself growing bored rather quick

"Ugh, here hold on!", You laugh and roll your eyes as you latch onto George from beneath

He doesn't protest, and you tow him easily back and forth through the water

It's not as fast as you could go, but it's faster then George has ever achieved on his own

It's actually great fun, but all things must end, and after a few rounds you glide to a stop surrounded by golden ripples

You sigh and look around, letting him go, "Sorry, it's late. I didn't mean to get so carried away..."

George wades just inches away from you, "No no, it's alright! I um, I had fun"

"Really?", You smile

"Really...", George floats a little closer to you, and you can feel his warm breath caress your hair, "In fact, m-maybe we could do this again sometime?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..."

Before he even gives a thought to what he's doing George's lips meet yours halfway, pressing far softer then you'd expect from a rough teddy boy like himself

It's one of those kisses where you don't even have to think, or give subtle hints

Everything just feels right

Your heart does a flip when you separate, and George sticks by his promise

It gets to the point where you have a schedule to meet each other, getting the most out of your daylight hours

From now on, no more waiting

Just you, and him.

John

John's been visiting you for quite some time now, bringing you shiny things on occasion, but mostly just enjoying your company

You're on a first name basis and everything

It's strange almost, John feels quite special

After all, he might be the only lad in all of England to befriend a mermaid!

Although lately, he's been feeling... Different about you

He must be mad

But it's just...

You're so sweet, and kind, and you listen and understand him like no one else ever has before, an-

Ugh

He must be going mad

That would certainly explain why he's buying you a locket with his latest savings

It may be from a second hand store, but he knows you'll love it

The locket is shaped like a heart and made of brass

The metal is a bit tarnished but the small heart shaped ruby in the center is bright as ever

It's perfect

John takes it home and hides it away from Mimi

She doesn't know about you, but she has some suspicions about a girl...

That's certainly not something John wants to talk about, so he's trying to be as covert about you and him as possible

But before he can hand off his gift to you, he needs to sneak one of Mimi's pictures of him

She has a few up in the attic, which John is easily able to swipe and cut out to fit in your locket

There. Now it's perfect

John gets a good night's rest and heads out bright and early to your cove the very next day

He arrives to find you splayed out on a bed of shells and trinkets, sun bathing

"Hello birdy!"

You spring up and turn to face him, "Johnny!"

Patches of sand stick to your skin, shimmering like glitter in the sun

John whips off his leather jacket and shirt as he goes to sit beside you before removing his boots and socks as well

It's a bit of a custom for him ever since he started feeling comfortable around you

The beach is rather hot, yes, but more so, he likes that you make him feel confident enough to take all that off in the first place

You don't know this, but it's a huge sign of the trust he has in you

The two of you talk and catch up a bit on the few days you were apart

John tells you about school, and you about your adventures at sea

Both of you are equally fascinated about each other's worlds, and both wish a bit that they could live like the other does

You've offered to take John out to sea, but he's not to keen on wading that far out in the ocean

When the conversation starts to run dry, John remembers his gift at last

"Oh by the way, I brought you something..."

You perk up, not suspecting anything other then the usual shiny pebble or coin

But then again, John seems... Different

You could swear you see a blush climbing his cheeks

"I uh, saw this and thought of you...", He holds out an old, worn locket. The Ruby heart and tarnished brass flash and glint in the sunlight, mesmerizing you

You gasp softly, and reach for it slowly, as though you're dreaming

"Do you fancy it?", John asks nervously

"John, this is beautiful..."

You click the heart open and reveal a raggedly cut picture of John smirking back at you from behind a heart shaped lid of glass

You trace your finger along the picture's edge, a trance like glaze over your eyes

"I um, I thought maybe you could wear this one... You know, that way you could always have me with you when you go out to sea... Or... Something", John mumbles, wondering if he sounds even half as stupid as he thinks he does

He peaks over at you once, then twice as you look at it in silence

"It's alright, you don't have to-"

"Could you put it on me?"

John looks stunned, as though he's surprised you actually like his well thought out gift

"Uh, I- sure"

You hand him the necklace and turn

John lifts it over your head and lowers it slowly

The metal is warm from John's hands as it touches your skin, and John fastens the clasp in a jiffy

"There you are..."

You turn around again, eyes shining brightly with joy, the heart clasped in the palm of your hand

A knot forms in John's stomach, seeing you look so happy with him like that, and suddenly he feels sick

He has to say it

He knows be does

He has to tell you now, or it's going to kill him

And yet, if he does tell you, that might kill him too

"Ugh, I must be mad..."

You quirk an eyebrow, "Wha-?"

"I love you", John blurts it out as though it was tortured out of him

It's not very sweet, or romantic, or charming...

No, it's actually much more like he just spat on the sand and continued on

But you know John by now, and to you, it's more then enough

You put your hand over his and lean in to press a gentle kiss to his burning cheek

"I love you too Johnny"

John's breath hitches in his throat, and looks at you with a gaze he's never given any other woman in the world

"Really?" His voice is the barest of whispers

But you don't need to answer, John is already pulling you in for a kiss as he lays back on your small pile of treasure

It's not his first make out session, and it won't be his last

But with you? Right here, on the beach, in the warm sun, laying cozied up on his bare torso?

It's the one he remembers most, for all his life

#the beatles #john lennon x reader #george harrison x reader #mermaid!reader #the beatles x reader #beatles imagines

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cheri-translates · 5 years ago

Text

[CN] Lucien’s Warm Morning Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

There is a call BEFORE this date which is important in establishing context: here

Valentine’s 2020 Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Victor

The date begins with MC waking up in Lucien’s bed 👀

She starts recalling the events of the night before...

Turns out the drainage pipe in her house suddenly broke, and the person responsible for maintenance can only make it the next day.

Lucien: What do you plan to do tonight? If you don’t mind, you can spend the night here.

MC: No need, no need. I’ll feel even worse like this…

Lucien: What if I say that this is my form of gratitude for the cherries you gave me?

MC: I…

I look at Lucien’s smiling eyes and can’t seem to find a reason to refuse. I give him a light nod.

MC: Lucien, thank you! I’ll temporarily borrow your sofa for a night then!

Following the direction of my finger, Lucien looks at the long sofa in the living room and furrows his brows slightly.

Lucien: You should sleep in the bedroom.

MC: How could I do that! It’s unreasonable for the owner of the house to sleep in the living room.

Lucien: Who said that I was going to sleep in the living room?

Lucien leans over, a hint of slyness flashing across his eyes. Light laughter enters my ears.

Lucien: I always can’t help but tease you. Did you forget that my house has other guest rooms?

Back in the present, MC leaves the bedroom to find Lucien sleeping on the living room sofa

There’s a cup of cold coffee next to him, so MC guesses that he woke up in the middle of the night to work

She takes a look at one of the books on the table:

MC: “...tactile sensibility is located throughout the body. The level of responsiveness differs... this could be due to the differing distribution of nerves...” Response? Nerves? ...is this referring to the causal relationship between the two?

I speak softly, trying to continue exploring this uncharted territory.

“Every part of the skin has incredibly rich and keen sensitivity, and will cause...”

MC: Rich and keen sensitivity?

I lower my head and look at my own fingers. With a gentle rub, the smooth touch of the paper lingers on my fingertips.

I nod thoughtfully, and then touch Lucien’s sofa.

This time, the touch feels different from the book - it has a soft, suede texture.

As though conducting my own tiny experiment, I reach out to carefully feel the items in my surroundings.

The feeling of items which are usually taken for granted becomes interesting with my deliberate effort.

MC: What else can I test...

My eyes unconsciously drift over to Lucien. His breathing is as steady and even as always.

MC: As long as I don't wake him up...

Enraptured by an unknown emotion, I reach out to touch Lucien’s cheek lightly with a finger.

What travels from my fingertips is a soft touch different from all the other items.

My finger lingers a while longer before I carefully draw it back.

MC: ...Lucien?

I try calling him, but his eyes remain shut, and there are no signs of him waking up.

At that moment, an even bolder idea bubbles from my heart.

I bend down and lean closer to him, doing my best to control my increasingly nervous breathing. It’s as though every cell in my body is trembling from this small “adventure”.

Lucien’s eyelashes cast a faint shadow, and it moves in a regular pattern along with his breathing.

I purse my lips nervously. Even though I haven’t done anything yet, my cheeks heat up involuntarily.

It’s as though there are two contending voices in my head. I remain in this position, staring at him.

Lucien: Are you going to keep looking at me like that?

MC: ...!?

Lucien’s voice breaks my train of thought. My body has no time to react, and I remain in this posture, looking at him dazedly with wide eyes.

His eyes are clear and bright, without the slightest trace of tiredness or drowsiness.

The signal in my brain is finally restored. I snap out of my daze and stare at him, at a loss.

MC: When... when did you wake up!

Lucien: Hmm... from around the time you sat beside me.

MC: ...then why did you pretend to be asleep!

Lucien: I was too curious about what this inquisitive student wanted to do, so I chose to observe.

Lucien turns over, using both hands to prop himself up. He smiles and looks at me.

Lucien: What are you going to do next?

My pounding heartbeat renders me unable to calmly find a reasonable excuse.

MC: I... I just wanted to use this chance to take pictures of your sleeping face!

The hand I retracted digs into my pocket, and I realise that I had left my phone in the bedroom. In my panic, I can only extend both hands to form a picture frame pose.

Lucien nods his head thoughtfully, and the silhouette from the backlight casts him in a faint golden rim.

Lucien: Is that so? This is the first time I know that the photographer has to lean so close to observe the model.

MC: ...a detailed and comprehensive understanding of the model is necessary to produce good work!

Lucien: When you’re the one being photographed next time, I’ll definitely apply what I’ve learnt.

The corners of his lips lift, and his narrow eyes curve upwards.

MC: There wouldn’t be a next time!

Pretending to be annoyed, I reach to cover his mouth, but he breaks free with ease, and encases me in his arms.

The arms embrace me unhurriedly, forming a gentle, soft, and inescapable shackle.

The breath around my forehead tickles, and I don’t dare to lift my head to meet his eyes.

Lucien: It seems I should pretend to be asleep for a while longer, so I wouldn’t spoil this photographer’s plan of taking secret photos.

I lower my head, not knowing if the heat on my cheeks is a result of the sunlight from outside the window, or the warm breaths from his nose.

Lucien: However, this kind of morning is not bad.

His low voice enters my ears. Lucien lifts his hand and helps me tuck stray hair behind my ear.

Lucien: Good morning, MC.

After freshening up in the bathroom, MC heads to the kitchen to wash cherries

She's still blushing from earlier

The cooling touch of the cherries makes her think about how she almost touched Lucien’s lips just now

Lucien comes in to check on her

Lucien: So these are the “extremely sweet cherries” you mentioned yesterday?

Lucien mimics my tone, and his breath falls onto my ears, setting off a touch of warmth.

I clumsily pick out a cherry from the bowl, shake off water droplets gently, and lift my hand to bring it to Lucien’s mouth.

MC: If you don’t believe me, give it a try.

Lucien lowers his head, his hair brushing against my cheek. He opens his mouth slightly, and bites the cherry from my hand.

The tender touch is fleeting on my fingertips.

MC: ...how is it?

Lucien nods, but doesn’t give me an answer. There is a narrow light in his eyes.

Lucien: There is one thing I’m curious about. You’ve been touching different things since just now. Could you tell me why?

Following Lucien’s gaze, I lower my head to look at the cherry I have 'ravaged’ in my palm, and I react immediately.

MC: This... this is because...

Thinking back to what I did just now, my tone turns hesitant.

MC: Just now, I saw one of your reference books on how tactile sensibility is everywhere, so I got a little curious. I’ve never taken notice of the tactility of different objects, so I just... found myself wanting to give it a try.

Lucien: Are you very interested in this area of research?

MC: ...mm, you’re right! I might even find inspiration for a program from it.

Seeing me nod vigorously, the smile in Lucien’s eyes deepens. He asks me in a joking manner:

Lucien: Do you require any assistance from me? I might have a lot of reference books you may be interested in.

MC: I’ll have to trouble Professor Lucien then!

Lucien smiles while nodding, and doesn’t continue with his questions.

They sit together on the sofa and Lucien explains science stuff to her using the book she was reading just now

Brace yourself for Lucien’s science rant:

Lucien: The topic this time is the effects that physical contact via different parts of the body have on dopamine secretions in the brain. Also, whether dopamine can be used in reverse - to become feelings experienced by the body.

MC: Dopamine... feelings...?

Lucien: Mm. In our brain, there is a substance called dopamine. It is related to excitement, pleasure, and similar positive emotions.

The combination of unfamiliar and academic vocabulary leaves me wandering around in a cloudy mist.

Lucien smiles, unconsciously smoothening my furrowed brows. His voice softens.

Lucien: Just listening to the subject can be quite difficult for one to grapple with, but the concept itself is very easy to understand. Let me give you an example.

He takes up the blanket on the sofa, signalling me to give it a touch.

Perhaps due to the concentration of my senses, both my hands are covered with warm velvet, bringing with it more obvious comfort than ever before.

Lucien: Do you feel anything special?

MC: It’s very comfortable and makes me feel relaxed.

Lucien nods, reaching out to rub my hair out of habit. Then, following the curve of the back of my head, he strokes my neck.

The hand pausing on my neck is warm. The heat travels past my hair and onto my skin.

MC: This is even more comfortable...

The words are blurted out before I realise it.

Lucien is stunned for a moment, and there seems to be a different kind of light in his eyes.

His actions do not stop, and he continues caressing my neck, as though smoothening the hair of a cat.

Afraid that the topic would continue digressing to other places, I hurriedly pull us back to the academic problem we were discussing earlier.

MC: So these feelings are evoked because of dopamine secretions?

Lucien: You could understand it that way. Physical contact is one reason for dopamine secretions, so...

MC: It will cause people to feel pleasure!

Like a student rushing to answer questions in class, I complete Lucien’s sentence before he can finish.

It wasn’t so that I could be praised. It is only through this way that I can ignore our closing distance, and force myself to melt into the logic Lucien has combed through for me.

Lucien: Exactly. You learn very quickly.

Lucien looks at me, smiling and yet not smiling, and suddenly stops his movements.

Instead, he exerts more pressure and holds my hand.

Lucien: However, making contact with different areas channels different feelings. For instance, right now.

Sensing the pressure and warmth from his palm, my heart rate speeds up.

Perhaps due to the concentration of my senses, every action from Lucien makes me feel different from usual.

In contrast to how his touch made me feel relaxed earlier, his fingertips now render me unable to suppress my rapid heartbeat.

MC: It does feel different...

I cough lightly, and try my hardest to gather my messy thoughts.

MC: When there’s a different feeling, the brain would also release different feedback, right?

Lucien: Such an understanding is not wrong. Which is why I’m very curious - what are you feeling now?

I bite my tongue and look around, wanting to divert the topic.

MC: If dopamine secretions are unquantifiable, then what are these charts?

Lucien lowers his head, and the corner of his lips turn up with an almost undetectable smile.

As though nothing happened just now, his fingers casually point at the book.

Lucien: These charts record body temperature, breathing rates, and brain activity. This is done to turn subjective feelings into data. With such an explanation, do you find it less difficult to understand?

After saying this, Lucien taps my forehead lightly.

I unconsciously rub the areas he has touched, and I feel as though my senses have doubled in my brain.

Even this normal action leaves a strange warmth on my skin.

Perhaps due to extraordinary strong dopamine secretions, I hide this atypical feeling in my heart, and relish its aftertaste.

After this, MC reads books while Lucien works on his computer

She starts inching towards him because she finds him more attractive than usual under the sunlight

Lucien notices and asks if she’s bored, but MC tells him to continue with his work and not mind her

Lucien asks if she’s hungry

But she isn’t because she has eaten half of the cherries that she bought for Lucien

She feeds him a cherry and starts blushing because d o p a m i n e

Lucien: Only little children like grabbing things and sending them to their mouths.

Hearing the joke in his meaning, I follow up with a question, unconvinced.

MC: Why is that so?

Lucien: As compared to the hand, the most primitive way that humans perceive the outside world is...

Lucien pauses, handing me a cherry naturally.

Not knowing what to do, I give it a bite. Before I can swallow it, his thumb gently touches my lips.

Lucien: Here.

MC: [blushing] ...

The sudden intimate touch leaves me at a loss, and my breathing begins to speed up.

His finger is in no rush to move away. A delicate sensation follows the warmth of his fingertips, slowly turning into a sweetness that I've never tasted before.

His gaze carries with it a warmth even more heated than the sunlight as it enters my eyes, and is sparkling.

The shadow and breathing continue to approach, descending on my eyelids, and I am unable to move.

Lucien: Among all the different body parts, lips are the most sensitive.

He lowers his head and smiles slyly, exerting more pressure on the finger pressed against my lips.

The touch brings with it strong colours, as though vowing to its existence, engraving itself directly into my memory.

My ability to think rationally disappears in an instant.

The sap from the cherry spreads between my lips and teeth, and an unclear affection circles in my heart.

I seem to have lost my sense of touch and taste. My entire heart and vision are occupied by Lucien.

...I want to feel even more of his unique flavour.

I straighten my back, giving him a light peck on the lips.

The noise that has been clamouring since this morning finally settles into a calm.

The pair of dark coloured eyes looking at me are stunned for a moment, before ripples of waves start flashing across his eyes.

The satisfaction of having my wish fulfilled leaves a dazzling dizziness in my heart.

I put some distance between us, and speak softly.

MC: Today, you’ve been asking me about how I feel - touch, taste... then... what do you feel now?

Lucien’s breathing halts for a few seconds.

His eyes, which always swallow me up when I’m not careful, are filled with complex emotions.

Seeing that he’s not giving me an answer, I summon my courage and draw closer to him.

In the next second, he suddenly grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him.

Lucien: Do you want to know my answer?

His low voice descends from the top of my head, like a soft yet inescapable net capturing me.

MC: I...

Before I can respond, my lips are dyed in warmth.

The most tender touch carries with it a temperature, and makes one want to submerge into it even more than any other feeling before.

Lucien: Is this answer sufficiently clear enough?

I can’t help but place my index finger on his ear, feeling a body temperature that is higher than normal.

MC: This is also the influence of dopamine, right?

Turbulent emotions surface in those deep, deep eyes.

Lucien: ...mm, you learn very quickly.

Even though this is a sentence that I’ve heard not long ago, his low voice stains it with a different colour this time.

The hand that had lightly lit a cluster of flames on my skin earlier finally lands on the back of my head with certainty, causing me to lift my head slightly.

This time, I cooperate and close my eyes.

An undisguised possessiveness spreads to the adjacent skin. In the midst of our entangled breaths, every suck and tender bite are his branded markings.

Soothed by each other’s temperatures, our hearts beat at the same frequency.

MC: Lucien...

I mumble his name.

MC: Actually, whether it’s because of dopamine or not, I feel very happy whenever I touch you. Right now, aside from you... I don’t want to think about anything else.

Lucien: ...

Lucien looks straight at me. His undulating emotions return to a calm, and carries a smile that I can’t quite understand.

Lucien: This time, I should be the one calling you 'teacher’.

MC: What...!

He clasps the back of my neck tightly. I have no way to escape, and can only gradually sink into this vortex.

The next kiss is unrestrained, frank, and telling.

It conveys the heart without the need for words.

When Lucien finally decides to let me go, letting me lean on his shoulder to catch my breath, he presses the side of his face onto mine, which feels extremely hot.

His fond voice burrows into my heart, not allowing me to be distracted.

Lucien: Because when it comes to this, only you can teach me.

The translucent curtains hang in front of the French windows, and there are a few clouds floating in the blue sky.

The sunshine is really nice.

🍒

🌸 MOMEMTS 🌸

Lucien’s Post: Resting time in the afternoon needs to be shared with the right people.

MC: Is this afternoon’s tea black tea?

Lucien: You’ve guessed correctly. Do you still like it?

Lucien’s Post: Resting time in the afternoon needs to be shared with the right people.

MC: Rest day is truly meant for a complete relaxation of the body and mind!

Lucien: Is this the reason why you’ve chosen to look for me for afternoon tea?

Lucien’s Post: Resting time in the afternoon needs to be shared with the right people.

MC: If we have the chance in future, we can make our own refreshments!

Lucien: I’m thinking there’s no need to wait. The kitchen and I are ready.

Call after the date: here

A translated comic based on this date (NSFW): here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc lucien #oh wow he IS smooth

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chaoskirin · 4 years ago

Text

Reversed (Reworked) Chapter Three

Chapter Title: Deacon’s Quandary Word Count: 4270 Rating: PG Genre: Fantasy/Gen

Summary: Although John's made friends with students from other Views, it doesn't look like his Vexxzusian friends are too thrilled. After an explanation of Freddie's Ghittan magic, John stalks away, only to find a problem hidden in the dark reaches of the Vexxzus dormitory.

Read Chapter on AO3 and/or Leave Comments!

---

"There's nothing about it not to get," Freddie said, wrapping his hands around the open pouch on the table. Over the past month, the unlikely quartet had sort of staked out their own territory in the Well, always gravitating toward the same spot. They gathered there whenever possible--every day, if they could.

"I agree," Brian said.

Today, Roger had dismissed Ghittan magic. Freddie had things to say about that, and he wasn't about to let Brian pontificate in his stead. "You would," he replied, albeit he hoped with satirical affection.

Brian tried: "It's just that--"

"Tut-tut," Freddie interrupted. "I'm explaining today. You've chosen to wear the colors of Kyyra. That means I'm better than you at at least one thing."

Brian sighed.

Freddie dipped his fingers into the beaded pouch, removing just a pinch of loamy sand collected from the bottom of the hot spring. "The earth has power," he said. "And if you're very lucky, like me, you can feel its magic coursing through you every time you touch it. That's why so many in our View don't wear shoes, see? Even though the Vale is built right from the earth, it's still manufactured. The power is so much less. Unless we're here in the Recreation Well. It's powerful here. Natural."

"But carrying around a bag," Roger said. "With dirt in it!"

"Several, actually." Smiling, Freddie removed a few more from his pockets, each collected from a different place. "I've quite the collection of pouches, you see. You can never tell what a situation will call for. In any case, within the Vale, I can't do magic without a strong connection to the earth. Think of the pouches as a supplement. Each grain contains the magic of the planet, so I can use it even indoors."

"But the soil expires," Brian said. He couldn't help it, Freddie supposed.

"Yes, yes, I was getting to that. Detached from the planet, the magic eventually fades."

"What a hassle," Roger said. "If I had to buy a new wand every couple days, I just wouldn't do magic."

Freddie laughed. "I don't buy a new pouch! I just dump out what I have so the earth can renew its magic, then I collect from somewhere else."

Roger dismissively waved a hand. "But you have to walk to do that. Right? What if you're sick, or you're just super lazy?"

"Like you?" John wondered.

The insult flew over Roger's head. "Exactly!"

"Well, that's why we each gravitate toward a certain View," Brian said. Taking hold of a fine silver chain, he pulled a severely faceted sapphire from the collar of his jumper. "There's some people who can choose between one or the other, but I think we all sort of have a certain favorite in our hearts. One that's easiest for us to manage."

"A gem's the same as a wand or a staff," Roger argued.

"You know that's not true." Brian reached behind his neck, unclasping the gem so he could set it on the table. "It's similar, but the gem draws from the self. My own innate magic. And Roger, your wand draws from the magical implement inside it. Magic-From-Magic."

Each View had its own sort of... mantra. One that governed the entire discipline. Magic-From-Magic. Magic-From-Self. Magic-From-Earth. And, of course, the newest View, Magic-From-Death.

Roger narrowed silver eyes. "I've seen you tire yourself out."

"Yes, yes," Brian said. "It's true. It can be depleted if I do too much. But the advantage is, I will eventually be able to do more with what I have, because the magic is mine. I understand it better than any of you will ever be able to understand yours. Anyway, why are we arguing? There's no View that's better than any other. Each has its own advantages and... limitations."

Somehow, their gaze collectively wandered to John. He noticed. And bristled. "What!"

"Having to kill something to do magic is a pretty bad limitation," Roger said.

Uncomfortable, John fidgeted. "It's okay. I breed the beetles in a tank in my dorm." He produced a leather strap from his pocket, which had been rolled into a spiral. At various intervals, a tiny glass vial was attached to the leather; each vial contained a bit of moss and a single shimmering beetle. "My parents told me to always make sure their deaths are quick and painless."

Freddie couldn't help but say, "Their deaths would be entirely preventable if you'd try Ghittan. Here." He handed over one of his many pouches. One that actually complimented the Vexxzusian colors of green and black. "My gift. From me... to you. Aren't you grateful?"

John stared at the pouch as if it contained deadly acid.

"He says he can't do other magic," Roger said. "I tried to get him to try Oerris, but he said he can only do the one."

Brian arched his eyebrows. "Some have a strong preference," he said. "And some can only do a couple. But the nature of death magic is--"

"Everyone knows if you're a Vexxzus, it's a choice," Freddie finished. "Any Vexxzus has at least one other discipline they can master. It's... Oh, I don't know. The promise of potentially unlimited power that draws people to death magic. It's selfish, is what it is. Er..."

Sometimes, he forgot. Even in the middle of a conversation, it could absolutely slip Freddie's mind that John was a Vexxzus. He attempted to salvage his blunder. "Present company excepted? I mean, that's just what they say. Tell him, Brian."

With sarcasm, Brian said, "You want me to talk now?"

"Yes, please."

He sighed. "I don't know a lot about it. I know I can do it if I want to, but I've always found it off-putting. But... Yes. I think it's pretty common knowledge that--uh--what Freddie said."

John stood, seizing the pouch and stuffing it into the pocket with his beetles. "Thanks for the dirt," he growled, stalking away.

Freddie hoped it was all for show, but John eventually disappeared into the stairwell. Strangely, a couple other Vexxzus deliberately followed him.

"Did you see that?" Freddie asked.

"The tantrum?" Roger replied. "Yeah, I think we all did."

"No, he's being followed," Brian said. "I don't think some of the others in his View are happy with him hanging out with us. The Vexxzuses don't really like the other Views. I guess it makes sense, considering how we feel. I'm not too keen on the Vexxzuses either, except for John."

"Imagine if they knew he was hanging out with a mermaid, too," Roger said.

"Once again," Freddie hissed, "Siren. Not mermaid. Sirens are much prettier."

"You're so ugly, though." Roger practically beamed with glee, barely ducking out of the way as Freddie swiped at him. He'd really walked right into that one. For all Roger acted like an idiot, he was awfully quick with a joke.

"You're still compensating for asking me to marry you. You know? After the incident? That's what you're doing." Freddie knew the comment hit home when Roger blushed. "Oh, don't be embarrassed. You're not the first."

"I almost did," Brian admitted. "Of course, I have half an ounce of sense."

"This is not Pick-on-Roger day," Roger muttered. "I checked my calendar this morning."

"He starts it, then he can't take it," Brian explained. "Anyway, they're going to be posting a list of some of the new books that are coming in at Illiya's--" He went to check his watch, and found it wasn't there.

Roger held it up. "Nabbed it while you had your giant nose stuck in a book."

"Give me that, you little thief." Brian snatched it out of the air, strapping it back around his wrist as he hurried off. "My nose is just fine. And you're terrible."

"Eh, I know." Roger shrugged, stood, and stretched. "I'm going to go have a nap before try-outs."

"Try-outs?" Freddie wondered. "You're going out for Virtuatekk?"

"Wish me luck!" Roger said, turning on his heel.

Which left Freddie alone.

Freddie hated being alone, but more than that, he hated being alone with guilt. At least if Roger and Brian had stayed, Freddie would be able to distract himself with conversation. But all he could see was the betrayed look on John's face. The disappointment. The trauma.

He should probably apologize. "Can't believe I'm doing this," he said, pushing himself to his feet.

The main stairwell from the Well branched into several others, each leading to different parts of the school. Though they could be confusing, and many a student had lost their way within the winding paths, Freddie inherited at least a bit of his father's sense of direction. Though he'd never been to the Vexxzusian dormitory before, he knew the general direction of its location, and soon found his way there.

But then almost thought twice about continuing, because the area was so completely foul. Dungeonlike, it was constructed out of low ceilings and stone pillars. It was dark and smelled of rot and death, which made sense, but made for a rather unpleasant aura. Freddie couldn't even feel a hint of the earth's magic through his toes, as if the very earth had forsaken this place. He'd have to brave the cobwebs and giant spiders--seriously, why were there giant spiders?--if it meant making sure John was okay.

Was it so unkempt because the rest of the Vale avoided this place? Did the cleaning staff even venture here? Stepping over a spilled potion puddling on the uneven floor, Freddie searched for any hint that the area had been dusted in the last twenty years.

Perhaps the interior of the dormitory was more palatable than the reception area. If not, he'd have to have words with John, and perhaps entice him into joining Ghittan. Some students did switch Views, after all, once it became clear that they fit better elsewhere.

As Freddie pondered his pitch, he heard soft sobbing.

Narrowing his eyes, he turned a corner toward it and nearly sauntered right into a trio of Vexxzuses with their backs turned to him. Quickly, silently, he ducked behind a crumbling partition. Hidden by shadow, he could almost sit right out in the open to watch them as they gathered around a fourth student on his hands and knees, shivering on the damp floor. It was John.

"Aw, he's crying now," one of the voices mocked.

"Good," said another.

"Do it again," the first voice said.

"I already did," John cried. "Please, just--"

"Do it again!"

Through the brutish Vexxzuses' arms, Freddie watched John reach into the Ghittani earth pouch and take just a pinch, then mutter some words Freddie couldn't hear. It must have been a spell.

Immediately, John screamed and whimpered, falling over onto his side.

Freddie wanted to run to him, but there was no way he could fight his way through three nearly-graduated Vexxzuses, as oily and wiry as they were.

"You'll thank us later," the first voice said. "You're going to do this again and again until you figure out why we don't hang out with the other Views. We protect our own."

This certainly didn't seem like protection. What were they doing to him?

"We should have another twenty minutes before anyone comes down here," the second voice said. "Go make sure no one's coming. It's gonna get worse."

Freddie ducked back into the shadows as footsteps approached, then passed. Once the Vexxzus was out of sight, Freddie peered around the partition again, only to wish he hadn't. He could see John much more clearly now. Huddled on the floor, the second-year cradled his hand, which had erupted with a hundred boils. Someone had also cursed him with antlers, too, as his hair was stacked and stretched unnaturally into characteristic pronged horns. With John's long hair, he had quite an impressive set. In fact, his head was bent forward, unable to support their weight.

"Careful. Don't go too far," The second voice said. "If he backfires enough..."

"I know. It'd serve him right, hanging out with..." the first voice trailed off, then said, "Don't, by the way. You're lucky this is just a warning--Hey!"

As John tried to crawl away, the first Vexxzus kicked him. Hard.

John yelped, and Freddie had seen enough.

He'd never used his voice as a weapon before. At least, not like he was thinking of using it. Still, he began to sing the words of an old song, hoping immunity to his voice wasn't a common Vexxzusian trait.

"The breeze in Scotland bends the trees The trees refuse to break The Wind blows waves onto the shore Destruction in its wake Soon all is left in ruins The trees, the land, and man The Siren lives and stands alone Their death, his only plan."

He waited for them to come running, to find him, to beat him like they did to John, but it was silent, except for the whimpering. Freddie looked around the partition again, finding the two older Vexxzus students staring at him blankly. John was staring at the floor, his antlers resting on it. Now and again, he sobbed quietly.

Confident they wouldn't be able to break out of the song's spell, Freddie hurried forward, kneeling next to John. He looked bad, face contorted in pain. "It's okay, I'm here now."

John just whimpered.

"John?" Freddie said.

The boy tried to lift his head, but couldn't. Freddie rifled through his pockets until he found the spring-silt bag. "I'm gonna cut the antlers off. Your hair's going to be shorter for a while, but you'll be able to walk, at least. Okay?"

"Mm-hm," John answered.

Smudging a bit of dirt onto each antler, Freddie intoned "Ecutis" and severed both. They clattered to the floor and John finally looked up, green eyes wide and filled with tears.

"I thought--They--"

"Shh. It's okay. We'll get you to the hospital."

Freddie had to deal with the other Vexxzuses first, though. "I hate your whole bloody View, John. Seriously. You lot." He looked up, addressing the boys. "You ever do this again... You ever bother him again..."

Could he do this? It was stepping over a line... Appealing to their self-preservation while robbing them of a choice. "Don't hurt him ever again. If you do, I'll kill you."

They nodded stupidly.

"And... And you're to forget I was here. You're to forget it was me. Go--Go back to your dorms now. Stay there 'til tomorrow."

Unquestioningly, they did, shuffling off like zombies.

Freddie actually felt sick.

But he could think about that later. "You think you can walk?" he asked. John nodded, pushing himself to his feet with cracked, reddened hands. "Good. Good, we'll get you upstairs."

It was a long way to go with no one seeing them. But he didn't want to leave John down in the cold dungeon while he went to fetch someone. Thankfully, the sight of a Ghittan tugging an injured Vexxzus along by half an antler was just too much of a puzzle for some people to grasp, so they were left alone all the way up to the infirmary.

Once there, Salwix greeted them with, "You? Again?"

Freddie had no idea what that was about. "I found him outside his dorm. He was attacked." He didn't say what he'd done to the students who'd done the attacking, though. It was horrible, robbing someone of their free will. Plus, he was still afraid that someone would find out, even though he'd told the Vexxzuses to forget.

"Attacked?" Salwix said. "Did you see who?"

"No, I don't know the Vexxzuses," Freddie said. "And besides, I only saw their backs." Another lie. "Can you help him?"

"Of course," Matron Salwix said. "Of course. You run along now, though. I'll have to figure out what this is before I can heal it."

Freddie nodded, weakly making his way out of the infirmary and sitting down on the top step just outside.

That's where Roger and Brian found him several hours later.

"He didn't really say anything. That was the scary part," Freddie said, after he'd told the story. "I mean, John always has something to say. But all the way upstairs, he just..."

"Poor kid," Roger said. "It's okay, we'll figure out who it was."

"I might have left that part out," Freddie said, looking at his hands. "I mean, they'll... They'll definitely leave him alone now. We don't have to figure out who it was."

For all he tried to forget it, Freddie could remember each of their staring, blank faces as if he'd known them his whole life.

"Freddie, what'd you do?" Brian asked.

"I told them... If they ever hurt John again, I'd kill them. Then I told them to forget who I was." Freddie wouldn't look up. He couldn't bear it if Roger and Brian were judging him. "And they have no reason to believe I can't kill them, since they don't know what I can do."

"What's wrong with that?" Roger asked. "Sounds pretty smart to me."

"Under the circumstances..." Brian said. "It sounds like you did the right thing."

"Yeah, but taking away their free will..." Freddie started, but Brian held out a hand, cutting him off.

"You took away their ability to hurt someone. Bugger their free will. If they're going to go after John because he's friends with you, I say you did the right thing."

Roger nodded.

Freddie only felt marginally better. It was one thing to agree with what he did. It was another thing entirely to have done it. "If I can do that, what's to stop me from telling someone to jump off the top of the Vale, or I'll kill 'em?"

"There's nothing," Brian said. "But that's not who you are, is it?"

"Of course it's not," Roger said, smiling. His eyes were an iron-colored silver, turning slowly purple as it prepared to rain. "Think about what you did, Fred. How old were they? Sixth? Seventh year? You took out all of 'em by singing. You might have saved John's life."

"I don't think they would have killed him," Freddie said.

"Still," Brian said. "You did good. Nothing about what you did is remotely bad."

"Guys?"

They turned around to find John standing just outside the infirmary door. The antlers were gone now, though his hair was much shorter and puffy, almost cloud-like. There was a nasty bruise under one eye, and his hands were bandaged. "Did you wait here for me?"

"Of course," Freddie said. "And these two found me when I didn't show up in Rec."

John sat down on the step next to Freddie, and leaned on his shoulder. "I'm so tired," he said. Freddie put his arm around him.

John did seem so much younger than the others just then. He was small, even for a second-year, and at the moment, he was even quieter than usual. To think that other people from his house--sixth or seventh years at that, Freddie was sure--could attack him so viciously that he'd stop talking entirely...

"I'm... Allergic to the other Views," John said. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone. The other Vexxzuses think it makes us weak."

"Allergic?" Brian asked. "Like..."

"Yeah. Some Vexxzuses are. If we try to cast magic in other ways, it backfires. It doesn't matter what you cast, either. The effect is random. And the more you try, the worse it gets. I don't know how far they were gonna go, Freddie. If you hadn't found me..." He tapered off, shaking his head.

All Freddie could say was "I'm so sorry."

"That's why some people go to Vexxzus," Brian realized. "They have to. They don't have a choice."

John nodded.

"Well, I'm glad you're still talking to us," Freddie said. "Those brutes made a compelling point. Are you going to--I mean, what if someone else...?"

John smiled. "I'll be ready next time. I'm tougher than I look. Besides, those ones Freddie sang at are the worst, and they won't bother me anymore!" Freddie detected a note of pride in the second-year's voice, and it made all his worries evaporate.

"No, they won't," Freddie replied. "But there's others...?"

"I said I can deal with the others," John said, a hint of his constant low-grade irritation returning. "They won't catch me off guard again, trust me."

"Temper," Roger said.

John reached around Freddie and gave Roger a shove with a heavily-bandaged hand.

"Just be careful," Brian said. "You've got a long ways to go here. Don't get yourself expelled."

"Oh, I'll be careful," John promised, with the ghost of a very reckless smile.

---

Brian knew something was up when John asked him to create a spellslip.

Spellslips were a creation of Kyyra mages and contained just a tiny, temporary, extremely malleable shred of self-magic written on paper. They had dozens of practical uses, and more talented Kyyra could transfer their magic in amazingly creative ways.

John didn't ask for anything creative, though. He asked for a microfect--which was essentially the essence of one's magic--written on a strange piece of near-translucent paper.

And sure, the other Views could impose their own magic on a spellslip, but the infinitesimal amount of magic Brian transferred made him more curious than wary.

Additionally, John had asked Freddie for a scale, and Roger for a spellvial--essentially the same thing as a spellslip, but in liquid form and far, far more volatile. Spellvials were unique to Oerris, but few ever used them. They tended to explode.

Brian made John promise that he wouldn't make anything explode, but John just laughed and said, "don't worry." It didn't exactly assuage Brian's fears.

It did get him to thinking about the creative ways one could combine various magics into something more powerful. Perhaps Vexxzus wasn't the "future of magic," as some mages in the discipline insisted. Perhaps the true potential of magic lay in its combination.

In any case, Brian mostly forgot about the gifted spellslip until one fateful day in the cafeteria.

Most Views tended to keep to their own tables, although Brian, Freddie, John, and Roger usually sat together anyway. It was a little odd for John to be apart from the other Vexxzuses; over the past few days, he'd gotten some glacial glares from his fellows. Even if other Views sometimes sat with their friends from other dormitories, the Vexxzuses almost never did.

Although John seemed to relish these glares. Odd.

"What're these?" Freddie asked, sitting down at the long table and indicating the cakes placed at even intervals. Most of them were already cut into, with many students already enjoying their portions.

"Don't know," Roger replied, his face covered in frosting. "Something the Vale did, I guess. Don't think it's a holiday. Maybe one of the teachers' birthdays?"

Brian shrugged to indicate his own ignorance. "They're at all the tables," he said.

"Maybe one of the staff is learning to bake," John suggested, with that same reckless smile he wore after his accident.

Before Brian could say anything, though, Roger said, "You know something."

John arched his eyebrows. "Oh, look. Brian's doing something."

"You're deflecting," Brian said. "Clearly. Besides, what I'm doing isn't nearly as interesting. I'm just making a list of books to look for on Weald Day."

"You know you can just send a Mailer Daemon to the Weald and they'll send you back what you need," Roger said. "That's how I got that anger management book for John."

John rolled his eyes. "Yes. It made wonderful kindling."

Brian blinked. "You didn't."

"He did! Thankfully..." Roger trailed off as he reached into his bag, pulling out a book titled Managing Your Rage, which he presented to John. "They were on discount, so I've got thirteen more. If this one falls into the fire somehow, or gets thrown into the spring, or flies off the roof of Vale Rest and into the foggy moors never-to-be-found-again, you just let me know." "Great," John growled.

"See?" Roger said. "It's already working. He hasn't turned me into a frog yet." "Yet." John smiled, then reached across the table to turn Brian's watch so he could see it. "You're about to find out what I've been doing," he said, then gave a surreptitious nod toward the gathered Vexxzuses.

Curious, Brian turned to watch. So did the others. "Any second," John said again. "And... Now." Not all the Vexxzuses, but a good number of them, jumped from their seats at the same time. Some of them were clutching their backsides or stomachs as they fled amid the confused stares of the other students. Some of them nearly fell over each other as they fought to escape, and most cried out in rather comical desperation. Laughter and cries of shock came from the hall just outside the cafeteria.

"One spellslip written on cake parchment," John said, "designed to cause a simultaneous magic effect. One spellvial of vanilla extract--sorry, Brian. It's an explosion, but probably not the kind you were expecting. And one of Freddie's scales, finely chopped, spelled with my own magic to carry the memory of sirensong. They won't know I did it, but they'll be wary of me for reasons they don't even understand."

Roger looked at the nearly-finished piece of cake on his plate.

"Oh, don't worry," John shrugged. "It was just for Vexxzus." Roger non-subtly pulled another couple copies of the anger management book out of his bag, and placed them in front of John.

John just smiled.

Brian couldn't help but be impressed.

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #fantasy #fantasy au #reversed #ck writes #not bestiary

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lynne-monstr · 5 years ago

Text

fic (leverage, eliot/quinn)

title: (don’t think i can take anymore) wasted days and sleepless nights

summary: Sleeping together is easy. Quinn trusts Eliot with his body while he's awake and aware. He draws the line at actually falling asleep with Eliot.

contains: mentions of violence/torture, mild sex, banter

ao3 link

In the past thirty-six hours, Quinn had been shot at, stabbed, drugged, locked in the trunk of his own car, and nearly run over twice while making his escape. Every muscle in his body blazed like an inferno as he ran.

Running on empty, the coolly rational part of his brain chimed in. Quinn ignored it. He couldn’t stop; if he stopped, he was dead, and if he was going to die he’d do it on his feet. So he kept going, the soles of his uncomfortable dress shoes pounding along the pavement in the dead of night, every sense straining for the slightest rustle of an approaching attack.

When no one jumped him sliding down a fire escape to street level, he risked taking a quick breather. On silent feet, he ducked behind a dumpster in the narrow alley. His singed leg ached, and he made a note to add ‘near escape from a burning office’ as part of the litany of reasons he was never working for Hungarian arms dealers again. Unfortunately, that same burning building also meant the police were too busy investigating the arson downtown to notice the small war being waged in the otherwise silent streets. There’d be no interruptions or distractions that he could use to slip away.

He was quickly running out of options. And worse, ammunition.

When his lungs felt a little less like they were about to burn their way out of his chest, he took a last sweep of the darkened alley and got ready to move out. Unfolding from his crouch, he sprinted for the exit, keeping close to the wall as he rounded the corner.

And ran full speed into the man waiting for him on the other side.

There was no time to curse his bad luck as they hit the ground. Instead, he bit his lip to muffle the scream as his injured shoulder took the brunt of the impact. Not daring to stop and assess the damage, he rolled, coming up on top of his assailant, pinning him to the ground with his body weight as he brought his sidearm to bear one-handed. And froze.

Staring down the sights of his gun was the last person he expected. Long hair. Casual clothes. Keen eyes narrowed in an expression of imminent violence that would send a lesser man running for cover. Despite the job gone belly up, Quinn couldn’t help the pleasure unfurling in his gut. If he played his cards right, maybe he wasn’t completely fucked after all.

Quinn slowly withdrew his gun, careful to telegraph non-aggression as he put it back into the holster at his shoulder.

Eliot Spencer eyed him for a long moment. Until finally, with a twitch of lips, he pulled back the knife poised to strike Quinn in a very private and painful place. Quinn’s eyes widened when he saw the blade was his own, pulled from his ankle sheath without him feeling a damn thing. And here he thought Eliot Spencer was the type to fight fair. The man was just full of surprises. The warmth in Quinn’s gut flared and spread at the thought.

The hint of a smile curled around Eliot’s lips, and just like that the moment snapped, disappearing as quickly as it came. Quinn stood and offered a hand.

Eliot took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. “Quinn,” he greeted.

“Eliot.”

“Bad day?”

“Getting better.”

The merriment faded as Eliot gave him a more thorough onceover. He twirled the knife once, offering it hilt first. “Looks like you need this more than me.”

Quinn tucked the weapon away, happy to have the familiar weight back where it belonged. His eyes scanned the tops of the nearby buildings for movement before refocusing on Eliot. He was running out of time. “I didn’t realize you were coming to my party.”

“My invitation must’ve got lost in the mail.” Eliot eyed the angry red slash at the shoulder of Quinn’s suit jacket. A misstep he was still paying for. “Your friends don’t seem very nice, though.”

Quinn’s response was cut off by the sound of heavy footfalls.

Between the both of them, it didn’t take long to clean house. Soon they were the only ones standing amidst a sea of unconscious hitmen. Quinn would have preferred them dead—dead men couldn’t get back up and come after you again, or report to their boss about your unexpected new ally—but Eliot had knocked his hand askew when he’d lined up the first headshot, growling something about no killing. Quinn fell into line. If that was the price to pay for Eliot Spencer’s assistance, so be it. What the two of them had done in forty-five minutes would’ve taken him all night to do alone, and he might not have finished before getting himself killed.

Besides, Quinn could always kill the hired guns later if they made the mistake of coming after him again.

It had been good, working with another professional. At times like this, Quinn could maybe see why Eliot settled down with a team. Not that he had any intention of doing so himself. It had been pretty clear on the Dubenich job that Eliot trusted his people unconditionally; Quinn didn’t have anyone like that in his life. It was better that way.

For now, he was happy to hole up in a dingy motel under one of his more obscure aliases. Whoever set him up was still out there, no doubt hiring more people at this very moment, and until Quinn’s contacts came back with more information, he was happy to wait it out in relative safety. His next move was going to depend on whether this was an independent hit or if his employer had double-crossed him. He suspected the latter.

After double checking the room’s only door and window, he shrugged out of his jacket, hissing through his teeth as the motion reopened the wound in his shoulder. He fumbled at his tie one-handed. His shirt followed shortly after, landing in a heap on the bed beside the rest. The slight chill in the room prickled at his skin, one more item on the list of discomforts he was ignoring.

“Still here, huh?” he asked the silent figure by the window.

Once all the hired guns were too busy napping to run amok in the city streets, he half-expected Eliot to bail. Instead, he’d stuck close, watching Quinn’s back as he picked up shell casings, rifled through his assailants’ pockets, and finally holed up for the night. He couldn’t quite decipher if the other hitter was being friendly, weirdly protective of Quinn’s injured state, or if he figured out that Quinn had half a mind to break into the local police station and make sure all the hired thugs they’d taken down reached a more permanent end.

Whatever the reason, Eliot was still here, peering steadily through a crack in the window curtains. Quinn wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed. Instead he asked, “You staying all night?”

Eliot spared Quinn a glance before going back to his vigil of the street. “Got nowhere else to be.”

Quinn rubbed at his bare arms and settled for mildly grateful but cautious. “Thought your team would be waiting for you or something.”

“We ain’t all joined at the hip, you know,” Eliot answered, a thread of affection buried under the gruffness. “I like to head on out every once in a while. Wasn’t expecting to run into a street war on my time off.”

“Looks like I owe you the favor, then.” Normally, Quinn resisted the idea of being in debt, but he couldn’t deny the flush of warmth at the thought of Eliot Spencer calling on him sometime down the line. Quinn had always been a little bit of an idiot for a pretty face.

He was halfway through a shrug before thinking better of it. His shoulder was a raw mass of pain now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Every breath felt like a red-hot lance through the wound.

“Want me to take a look at that?” Eliot asked, correctly reading the pinched lines of his face.

Quinn paused, already halfway to the tiny bathroom. It was barely more than a toilet and a shower, both of which had seen better days, but it had running water and that was enough. “I’ve got it.”

“Gonna be a bitch to stitch that up one handed.”

“Yet somehow I always manage.”

Eliot shrugged, not turning away from his post. “Suit yourself, man. Give a holler if you change your mind.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. Twenty minutes later, sitting hunched on the dirty toilet seat and trying to tie off a knot with one hand and his teeth, he was maybe beginning to regret not taking Eliot up on his offer. Pausing to catch his breath, he cursed the wound, this job, his (probably) turncoat of an employer, and everything in between. His shoulder throbbed in time with his heart, which almost stopped as a silhouette suddenly filled the tiny bathroom doorframe. His hand was at his hip for a gun he wasn’t carrying before he recognized it as Eliot.

Quinn frowned. “Who’s watching the street?”

“If they haven’t showed by now they aren't coming.”

“Or they’re waiting for us to get complacent.”

“Then stop screwing around and get out here. You can watch the street while I fix this mess you call stitches.”

“They’re functional,” Quinn protested. “Doesn’t have to win any knitting awards.”

“Functional, huh? If that’s what you’re calling that mess, I’m gonna have to seriously reevaluate what I think of your skillset.” Eliot huffed and shook his head, then swiped an errant strand of hair from his eyes. “I won’t even count how that’s so far from pretty, it makes ugly look good. Come on, Huckleberry, let me patch you up.”

Using the dumb nickname Quinn had thrown out in a moment of adrenaline-fueled weakness wasn’t playing fair. But he was too tired to keep arguing, and so he let Eliot lead him back to the pair of armchairs by the room’s only window, perfectly angled as to be out of sight from any outside observers.

He kept his eyes trained on the crack in the window while Eliot hovered over him and fixed up his stitches in the dim light filtering in from the street lamps. The scratchy fabric of the chair itched against his bare back, and he focused on that rather than the unpleasant pinch and pull of his shoulder being mended. Eliot’s hands were hot on his skin and despite the pain, Quinn found himself relaxing.

When it was done, Eliot cleaned the blood from Quinn’s shoulder with a scratchy hotel towel and went to wash his hands while Quinn redressed in his soiled shirt and jacket. “Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch,” he offered when he was done, settling back into the hideously ugly chair by the edge of the window.

Quinn laughed. “Real cute.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Eliot to guard them both. Hell, he had no problem with Eliot keeping guard while he’d been cleaning up in the bathroom. But there was a world of difference between letting someone have your back while you were all there, and trusting someone to watch over you while you were slow and heavy with sleep.

The only person Quinn trusted like that was himself. He didn’t need to say it out loud, though. The look in Eliot’s eyes said he understood just fine.

What was left of the night passed in mutual silence, both of them on guard against the world.

Their patience paid off. Right before sunup, they both jerked to attention, noticing the same movement in the orange rays of early morning light. If whoever was creeping towards their room was expecting them to be caught off guard, they were in for a nasty surprise.

Quinn grinned like a shark and reached for his gun.

When none of their assailants were left standing (shot in the knee, courtesy of Quinn, and handed over to the federal authorities, courtesy of Eliot over Quinn’s fervent objections) all that adrenaline building since the previous night only had one place to go.

Looking back, he wasn’t sure who made the first move, him or Eliot. But it ended up with them back at Eliot’s place, their hands in each other’s hair and their mouths crushed together as they fell into bed. Casual touches and play-fighting quickly turned into something more heated and deliberate. Soon enough, Quinn found himself without his clothes and his weapons, Eliot’s teeth grazing his throat and his rough hands pinching along his inner thighs. Blunt nails raked down his stomach and Quinn arched up into it for more. And how delightful to discover firsthand that Eliot’s gravel-rough voice got ever rougher when Quinn held him down and kept him writhing on the edge.

When it was all over, they were tangled together across the dark blue sheets of Eliot’s safe house, struggling to catch their breath. Quinn felt his eyes grow heavy as the past couple days finally caught up with him. And that’s where he drew the line. Sleeping with Eliot was one thing; actual sleeping was a line he wasn’t willing to cross.

Not with Eliot, not with anyone. He’d learned that one the hard way.

“You leaving?”

Quinn paused with one leg in his suit pants and bit down the sarcastic reply about Eliot’s keen observation skills. He was almost surprised to find that his smile was genuine. “Thanks for the good time.”

Eliot nodded and Quinn finished redressing. He headed for the door, but Eliot’s voice stopped him as he was about to walk out.

“I’m too wired to sleep. Thought I’d make some coffee. Maybe check on the tomatoes in the garden. You’re welcome to stay for a cup.” Not bothering to wait for answer, he rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the large wooden dresser in the corner. He didn’t bother with a shirt and Quinn allowed himself a moment to appreciate the view.

He could picture the scene as clear as day. Lounging on the couch in borrowed sweatpants that weren’t quite long enough to reach his ankles. Sipping coffee and watching Eliot work shirtless on the back patio, the late afternoon sun washing warm across the naked skin of his back and highlighting his hair with gold. Pulling Eliot down on top of him afterwards until they were both sweaty and sated all over again. Falling asleep in his bed.

He should go. That much was obvious. Working with Eliot on business, indulging in sex with Eliot—that was all standard fare. Practically a perk of the job. But this? An invitation to stay in each other’s company like they were anything other than sort-of colleagues and occasional allies.

Now that was dangerous.

For all the dark rumors of his past, Eliot was a bonafide good guy now. How long until he remembered that Quinn was still taking the kinds of jobs he’d long since washed his hands of. As much as he liked the guy and could rely on him to have his back on a job or against a mutual enemy, Quinn could never fully trust him. He would be an idiot to forget that.

So, he shook his head and locked away the sliver of regret that slipped past his defenses. “Maybe next time,” he lied, straightening his tie so he wouldn’t have to look Eliot in the eye.

(The next several times they fell into bed—a combination of planned meets and one uncomfortable instance when they’d both been trailing the same mark—Eliot never repeated his offer to stay afterwards.

Quinn was grateful for it.)

Quinn liked working the occasional job for Eliot and his strange team. There were several reasons, but it all boiled down to three main things.

The first being that it was a nice change not to worry about being double-crossed when it came time to collect his fee. Not that he couldn’t handle that kind of trouble when it happened (“The perils of being a freelancer,” he’d told the last person to try that on him, right before putting a bullet in his head), or that he didn’t still plan for it, but it was like a little vacation to be able to wrap up a job without any dramatics. Quinn liked clean and tiny.

Second was that Eliot never asked for more than Quinn was physically capable of delivering. He was good at what he did, but even he’d go down if someone threw enough armed men his way. It worried him sometimes just how well Eliot knew his strength and his limits, but he consoled himself with the fact that his knowledge of Eliot ran just as deep.

Last and most fun was what Quinn considered his personal bonus of a job well done. Namely, that Eliot was great in bed.

They were at the safe house Quinn had procured for the week, celebrating the successful completion of doing bad things for a good cause. Quinn, his bank account newly full and wearing nothing but a smile, dangled the cuffs Eliot had pretended to slap onto him earlier as part of the con they’d run. “Looks like it’s finally my turn to put these to good use.”

“Nice try,” Eliot said, grabbing the cuffs and casually dropping them over the side of the bed. “Not gonna happen.”

Quinn pouted. He didn’t think Eliot was going to go for it but it was worth a try. With a dirty smile, he shifted his hips where he straddled Eliot’s lap on the bed. The friction made them both groan, so Quinn did it again, watching the tension slide from Eliot’s face as pleasure took its place.

“I let you put them on me,” Quinn countered, hands sliding along the sweat-slick skin of Eliot’s chest.

Eliot caught his hands. “And I didn’t lock them tight enough to keep you from slipping free.” His fingers clamped down on Quinn’s wrists. Like the cuffs from earlier, they weren’t nearly tight enough to keep him contained if he chose otherwise.

He didn’t choose otherwise. He did, however, concede the point.

Eliot slid his hands up Quinn’s arms, lacing his fingers together behind Quinn’s neck to pull him down. It was easy to let himself be reeled in, to let Eliot flip their positions in a move that was telegraphed slowly enough that Quinn could have countered it any time he wanted.

(Again, he didn’t.)

There was a fine line between fantasy and accidentally triggering the defensive actions Quinn had spent the better part of his life honing. Eliot rode that line with the same skill he did everything else, pinning Quinn with enough force to be real but not enough to make him feel trapped. It was nice, the weight of Eliot pressing heavy on his limbs. There weren’t very many people capable of keeping him down if he didn’t want to be down but Eliot had more than a passing shot of making it happen. He’d done it before, back when they weren’t anything more than two hitters on opposite ends of a job.

A rush of heat raced down Quinn’s spine and he grabbed a fistful of Eliot’s loose hair, arching his hips up until they were pressed together from head to toe. Eliot slipped a leg between Quinn’s, fanning the spark of heat into a raging fire until it was all he could think about.

Six hours later, in a business class seat somewhere over the Pacific, Quinn set aside the last lingering thoughts of Eliot Spencer and got his head back in the game.

There was someone in his hotel room.

Quinn had a fair idea who it was (he practically sent an engraved invitation, after all) but that was no reason to be stupid. All hitters came to end in an some kind of ugly fashion and Quinn had made his peace with that, but when it happened to him it wasn’t going to be because he was stupid.

Silently, he pulled his backup gun from the small of his back. Taking a last look down the hall to ensure he was alone, he opened the door with the electronic keycard, ducked, and burst into the room gun first.

The precaution was unnecessary.

“No word from you in months and this is the greeting I get? I’m beginning to think you don’t like me anymore.” Eliot detached himself from where he was pressed up against the far corner, partially hidden by the faux cherry wood armoire holding the room’s entertainment center. He gestured towards Quinn and the gun, the muzzle now pointing at the floor.

“Worried I don’t like you anymore? Do I need to check a box for yes or no and pass the note back?”

Eliot raised an eyebrow. “Were you always this juvenile or is it a recent development?”

“You bring out the best in me.”

Setting aside the handgun on the nearest bedside table, Quinn carefully shrugged out of his worn leather jacket. It felt a little strange to not be wearing the suit around Eliot, but he wasn’t here for a job so there was no need to dress the part. He winced as the movement pulled at his back, quickly hiding it behind a lazy grin.

Narrowed eyes appraised him from head to toe and Quinn stilled. It was instinctive. Never let anyone know where the weak spots were. Any known injury could be used against you in a fight. It was a dumb thing to stick to in front of a guy he planned on getting naked with pretty soon, but Quinn never claimed not to be a creature of habit.

Eliot straightened, gaze turning leering and playful as he shook his hair out of his face. “I like the new outfit. Not a bad look on you.”

It was a safe topic, and as a close to an outright declaration that Eliot wasn’t going to press for details.

The knot between Quinn’s shoulder blades eased and he let his arms relax at his sides. Pushing the dark thoughts from his mind, he started unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t come here for fashion tips.”

“Well then,” Eliot drawled, stepping into his space and brushing Quinn’s hands aside to finish the job himself. “That’s good ‘cause I didn’t come here to give them.”

He never could figure out how much of Eliot’s midwestern charm was affectation verses actual upbringing. But as those rough hands swept over his chest with each opened button, he decided that he didn’t much care either way. Taking full advantage of his hands being unoccupied, he quickly fumbled Eliot’s belt open, popping every damn button on his inconvenient button fly jeans on his way downward.

They moved to the bed by unspoken agreement, hands scrabbling to cast aside the last of their clothes, mouths hot on each other’s skin. Fuck, he’d missed this. Well, he’d missed a lot of things these past several months, but he’d really missed this.

He’d missed Eliot’s broad hands pressing into the dip of his hips to hold him down, and the taste of his skin when Quinn traced lines into the muscles of Eliot’s stomach with his tongue. He’d almost forgot how It felt to press Eliot’s legs apart and take him into his mouth, watching beneath his lashes as Eliot fisted one hand into the sheets and the other into Quinn’s ponytail. He missed coming apart under someone’s hands in a way that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with heat and desire.

Eliot didn’t say anything about the new marks on Quinn’s skin save for how he meticulously avoided digging his fingers into those particular spots. There was nothing to say; they both knew the risks of their occupation. Not every fight was a win.

Losing a fight was the last thing on Quinn’s mind as he finally pressed inside the heat of Eliot’s body. Beneath him, Eliot’s breath hitched and his legs wrapped tighter around Quinn’s waist, drawing him in further.

“Come on,” Eliot growled, pushing himself forward to bite at Quinn’s shoulder.

Quinn licked his lips and obliged, happy to lose himself in this for the time being.

Once they’d cleaned up and got comfortable under the duvet, Quinn trailed a lazy hand down Eliot’s arm. “How’d you know I’d be passing through here?” Not that he needed to ask, but he wanted to hear the answer anyway.

Eliot laughed, a low amused rumble. “You practically left me a calling card, man. How could I turn down an invitation like that?”

Quinn smiled, something warm uncurling in his belly. There was no job, no enemy, no reason for Eliot to be here. Except that Quinn asked him to come.

Eliot’s gravely voice broke him out of his thoughts. “So, should I be worried about identity theft, here? First you grow your hair long after I kick your ass. Then you—”

“Hell of an ego you got there, pal,” Quinn cut in. “My hair has nothing to do with you.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Eliot shot back with a smile. “Anyway, you entered the freaking country under my favorite alias. Did you expect me not to notice?”

He’d counted on it.

Quinn rolled to his side and slung an arm across Eliot’s chest. “Thought all that hair might’ve finally rotted your brain,” he mumbled. “And anyway, it wasn’t your name.”

“Just ‘cause you rearranged the letters don’t mean it ain’t still mine.”

“It’s a real alias. And it got your attention didn’t it.”

Instead of answering, Eliot reached over to grab Quinn’s leg and hitch it over his hip to tangle with his own. “Damn, you’re heavy,” he teased as they resettled.

“I work out,” Quinn agreed with a lazy smile, letting himself be maneuvered.

It was pleasant to be sprawled across Eliot like this, to feel the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. He’d debated for weeks about using that particular alias after the job in Jakarta. It felt too much like running to safety for his liking, and so when the thought had first crossed his mind, he hightailed it to the most dirty, corrupt corner of the world he could find instead. Took every job that came his way until they all blurred together.

When the dust settled and he’d still wanted to see Eliot, he let himself use the identity that would no doubt raise every red flag in the Leverage team’s playbook. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that leaving a trail for Eliot to follow was the right move, but the sex was great and the company wasn’t awful so he was calling it a win.

One of Eliot’s fingers stroked a steady back and forth along the patch of skin just under Quinn’s shoulder blade, skirting the edge of what had been one of the deeper wounds on his back. Serrated knife, he remembered. He’d screamed—he remembered that, too—screamed until his voice had gone hoarse.

He felt the intake of breath a split second before Eliot’s voice broke the silence.

“They dead?” The words were growled in a way Quinn had only ever heard in an empty airport hangar, when he was the one standing between Eliot and his team.

Raising his head from its place on Eliot’s chest, Quinn looked him in the eye. “Yes.” He paused, remembering how Eliot almost knocked the gun from his hand the last time he tried to kill someone. “If you have a problem with that, you can see yourself out.”

But Eliot didn’t leave. Or ask who they were or how long they had him or what they’d wanted. Hell, Eliot had gotten his hands dirty enough back before he’d turned white-hat that could fill in the details on his own.

After a moment, Eliot gave him a tight smile and nodded.

Quinn didn’t know what to do with that, so he just laid his head back on Eliot’s chest and closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time he wanted to throw out all his old rules and let himself drift off to sleep. Against all odds and good sense, Eliot had somehow wormed his way under his skin.

This is why he shouldn’t have used the alias.

Nothing between them had changed; Quinn was still a bad guy and Eliot wasn’t. There was no silencing the voice in the back of his head shouting how it was only a matter of time before Eliot remembered what kind of person Quinn really was. Maybe he’d decide Quinn was better off in jail, or thrown to rot in some deep dark government hole, rather than be allowed to roam free and do what he did. Lulled into complacency by sleep and trust, Quinn would be a pathetically easy target.

In the end, caution won out.

It didn’t escape his notice that although Eliot’s eyes were closed, he hadn’t let himself fall into sleep either.

Taking a job in Portland had the potential to go all kinds of wrong, but wasn't that half the fun? But the money was good, and he wasn’t one to turn down a sizable fee. Predictably, it got him tangled up in one of Eliot’s cons. Not so predictably, the whole thing went off relatively smoothly. Before he knew it, he was invited to a post-victory dinner with Eliot’s team and not long after that found the two of them tangled up in Eliot’s bedsheets.

Once they caught their breath, Eliot propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at him. “Would you tell me if you were gonna take a hit on me or my team?”

“If this is your idea of sweet nothings, it’s no wonder all those women you’re rumored to sleep with only do it once.”

“Hey, I never had any complaints.” Eliot flicked at Quinn’s nose, but his wrist was caught before it could connect. His other hand shot out and Quinn caught that too. Eliot didn’t resist as Quinn rolled them until he was looking at Eliot spread out beneath him.

The playful spark faded from Eliot’s pretty blue eyes. “I’m serious, Quinn. Would you tell me?”

Most people couldn’t pull off an intimidating scowl while naked and pinned by the wrists to their own bed. Then again, Eliot wasn’t most people.

Quinn considered. It was a fair question. The truth was, he wouldn’t accept a hit on Eliot, at any price. And anyone who came to him with one wouldn’t stay breathing much longer. He couldn’t say the same for Eliot’s team, however. He liked them, they were smart, deadly competent, and occasionally funny, but they weren’t Eliot. But they were important to Eliot and, when he stopped to think about it, that was apparently enough for Quinn.

“I’m not taking any hits on you or your people. Not now and not ever.”

All it earned him was a nod.

Quinn put the pieces together. “You already knew. So, why’d you ask?”

“Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.” In one smooth motion, Eliot extricated his arms and rolled out from under Quinn. “That’s a long timeframe for that kind of promise."

“If I change my mind, I’ll be sure to give you fair warning.” In an echo of their first meeting as allies rather than adversaries, Quinn held out his hand. “Deal?”

Eliot grinned, clearly remembering the same dirty warehouse in Kiev. “Deal,” he said, and they shook.

Quinn braced for the inevitable sneak attack in retaliation for his earlier move, but Eliot seemed satisfied to let it lie. Resting back against the pillows, he resembled a large jungle cat, content and sated with the world. His hair was loose around his face, disheveled from their slight tussle.

Taking his cue, Quinn settled back against his pillows too, feeling like he’d accomplished something but not sure exactly what. He spun the thought around in his mind, poking at it over and over before giving it up as a lost cause. It would come eventually, it always did. Didn’t mean he liked waiting for it though.

It wasn’t until he heard the breathing beside him even out that he realized Eliot was asleep.

For a moment, he just froze in surprise. If Eliot was awake, he’d probably make some dumbass comment about catching flies. Or maybe a dirty joke about what else Quinn could do with his mouth. He did neither.

In his sleep, he was as restless and grouchy as he was while awake, forehead scrunching and nose twitching every once in a while. One hand was balled in a fist where it rested on top of the covers against Quinn’s leg. There was something comfortable in that, in knowing that Eliot didn’t turn into something drastically different just because he was asleep. Which brought Quinn to his current problem. If there was one thing he hated, it was a puzzle whose pieces didn’t fit. Aside from his fists and his guns, information was the other stock in trade that kept him alive and ahead of his enemies.

Was that all it took for Eliot to trust him? A promise that he wouldn’t go after Eliot or his team. Quinn had specified nothing about not going after him for any non-job-related reasons. Eliot was smart enough to know the distinction. The more he thought about it the more it didn’t make sense. Eliot knew exactly what kind of man Quinn was. Right now he could do anything, anything, to a sleeping Eliot and without that split second of reaction time consciousness gave him, he could inflict serious damage.

Before he knew what he was doing, he shook Eliot by the shoulder.

Eliot snapped awake in an instant, eyes scanning the room. That bright gaze fixed on Quinn when no threat popped out of the shadows, and the tension bled out of him. “The hell? What is it, Quinn?”

“I didn’t stop doing my job when I started sleeping with you.” It wasn’t what he meant to say but fuck if he knew what that was. He’d reacted and now he was running on instinct. And the jarring feeling of something poking at the inside of his chest, desperately clawing its way out into the open air.

Eliot blinked and squinted at Quinn. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Do you? Do you really? And you expect me to believe it’s not a problem for you?”

“Won’t say I like it. But until you do something that crosses my path, then I can live with it. Besides, I got it on good authority that most of the people you go after are scumbags in their own right.”

Most, but not all.

Quinn looked him in the eye. “And when they aren’t?” Because he needed to say it, to see Eliot’s reaction.

“What you said earlier. About fair warning.” Eliot put a hand on his leg. “It goes both ways, you know. If we have a problem, we’ll deal with it. I’m not coming after you in the middle of the night.”

Quinn tilted his head, studying Eliot. He had on his serious face, mouth set in a tight line and a little crease right between his eyebrows. He stared at Quinn like he half expected him to bolt and half expected him to fight.

Truth was, Quinn didn’t want to do either of those things. Eliot’s bed was comfortable and Quinn was tired. This was usually the part of the night where he put his clothes on and slipped back into his life. The pull of that was strong, but there was a part deep inside him that felt hollow at the thought of giving up whatever this thing with Eliot was.

In the end, he could either trust Eliot or he couldn’t.

It sent a cold chill racing down his spine. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to give that kind of trust anymore, against all the instincts that kept him alive. But he wanted. Wanted so badly he could taste it in the back of his throat. He glanced up at the ceiling as if the answers were somewhere in the expanse of dim white. As expected, they weren’t. Just a few streaks of plaster covering what must have been the remnants of old cracks. Quinn let his eyes trace over them, mind following not far behind, circling an answer he knew was inevitable but wasn’t sure he was ready to admit.

He sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist.

“You asked me a question, now it’s my turn.” Quinn didn’t bother to wait for Eliot’s nod. “Why’d you let me go?” He wasn’t exactly sure why he was asking, other than the fact that it had been burning a hole in his mind for years.

The corners of Eliot’s mouth pulled down. He propped himself up on his elbows, head cocked. “What’re you talking about?”

“When we met that first time. The hangar. You had me down. Why’d you let me go?”

Eliot snorted, like Quinn was asking an easy question, like he should have been able to work it out himself. He always was a bit of an asshole, which was part of why Quinn liked him. “Sterling wouldn’t have told you anything about his plans for us. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s a smart pain in the ass.” Eliot paused, his expression pinched. “Don’t you ever tell him I said that.”

Quinn nodded solemnly despite the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “On my word.”

Eliot smiled back before turning serious again. “Even if you had the information I needed, I was on a tight schedule. You’re too much of a pro to break easy and I didn’t have that kind of time to burn.”

Quinn nodded at the assessment but couldn’t help pressing. “I wasn’t just referring to information, you know.”

“You mean, why didn’t I torture you for getting the jump on me. For that payback you were so sure I was looking for in Kiev?”

Quinn trailed a finger along Eliot’s chest in an idle, invisible pattern. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Eliot looked up at him. “You know, your pillow talk really sucks, man.”

“Never had any complaints before. Then again, usually I just get up and leave.” He ran a hand down Eliot’s side to take the sting out of the words.

“Don’t I know it.”

For a moment Eliot just looked at him. Quinn stared back. They were both comfortable in silence, and Quinn wondered if they might spend the rest of the evening like this. There were worse ways to spend the night, he figured.

Finally, Eliot sighed, running a hand across his face. “I had more important things on my mind.”

“Ah yes, saving the team. They were family even back then, weren’t they?”

Eliot nodded once before settling on his back. After a moment, Quinn did the same, their shoulders brushing. They stared at the ceiling for a moment before Eliot spoke again. “It ain’t just them, you know. If some punk upstart hitter was between me and you, I’d drop him in a heartbeat..”

Quinn rolled, straddling Eliot’s hips in one swift motion. Leaning in, he placed his hands on the bed so they bracketed Eliot’s head. “A punk upstart hitter?”

He could feel Eliot’s chest vibrate with laughter, rich and low. “Quinn, man, your hair was gelled. And I’m pretty sure you had frosted tips like some boy band wannabe.”

“Since when are you the expert in boy bands? And what the hell are frosted tips? I don’t even know what that means.”

“I dated a hairdresser once.” Eliot gave a playful tug to the loose strands around Quinn’s face, down from their usual ponytail. “And it means I like it better long.”

With that, Eliot swept Quinn’s arms from under him. Quinn let him, not bothering to catch himself as he fell against Eliot’s bare chest.

To his surprise, settling back down at Eliot's side wasn’t nearly as difficult as expected this time around.

Eliot followed him, clicking the bedside lamp off and shifting to throw an arm over Quinn’s chest. “Now, we done here, or do you wanna keep talking all night? Maybe braid each other’s hair while we’re at it.” The words were barely audible, muttered into Quinn’s shoulder.

Quinn rested his free hand against the dip of Eliot’s back and let his eyes fall closed.

#leverage #eliot spencer #mr. quinn #leverage fanfic #eliot x quinn #lynne writes fic #can't believe i started this fic five years ago and finally finished it #better late than never right?#anyway i love this ship

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nialledfromfics · 5 years ago

Text

The Dating Game | Chapter Eleven

His body felt like blazing fire under her fingertips. His skin, like the sweetest candy on her tongue. His breath, like the freshest ocean air in her lungs. Their sticky-wet bodies moved together, slowly then faster, then slow again, giggles being replaced by salacious moans with every shared soft touch and greedy roll of their hips. It was sensual and intimate and filthy and obscene, endlessly consuming each other until there was barely anything left, until their flesh was raw and scathed and their already strangling breaths were merely depleted. And neither would have traded it for the world.

Niall had spent every single night at Joey’s apartment the two weeks following their life-changing revelation of feelings; walking Sadie for her in the mornings, queuing shows on her Netflix account that he thought she’d like, using her apple scented shampoo in the shower, and stealing the covers as he slept in her bed. The moment she got home at night, he was there, leaving again sometime after she had gone to work the next morning. She couldn’t keep her hands off of him, or her lips or her body. She didn’t want to. The way he looked at her, the way he smiled at her and touched her and the way he made her moan, it was all like a walking fever-dream that Joey feared would be over as fast as it began. But she tucked that tiny worry in the back of her head, focusing on the light in his blue eyes and the cute dimple that pressed in his cheek the moment he stepped through her front door every evening.

The dusty gray hue of the rising sun bled past the cloudy sky, filtering through the blinds and into Joey’s bedroom. She was slotted against him, her back arching into his front as Niall lazily fucked into her from behind, his big hand gripping at her hip to keep her steady. Joey faintly moaned, biting harshly into her bottom lip as Niall sucked across the side of her neck. His tongue traced the pulsing vein, and Joey reached back to tangle her fingers into his dark hair, holding his mouth to her skin. By the time Niall had slipped his touch from her hip to between her legs, rubbing slowly at the tiny nub amongst her wet folds, Joey had let herself go, coming hard, and loud, around him. Niall eased himself to his own sweet and satisfying release, deep grunts spilling out across her trembling flesh.

After catching her breath and Niall sliding himself from her swollen center, Joey brushed away at the hair sticking to her forehead in a sigh. “Every morning should be this good,” she softly mumbled, Niall chuckling as he sprawled out onto his back next to her and used the heels of both palms to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Are ya sayin’ it's not?” he teased, pushing an arm up under his head and peering over at her.

Rolling her eyes, Joey turned her body over on her side to face him. “You know what I mean,” she shot back, tucking her hands between her cheek and the pillow. “It was just exceptionally good this morning.”

Niall raised a brow and licked over his lips to contain the smirk that attempted to pull at the corner. “You’re welcome, my love.”

Grabbing around his neck, Joey leaned over to push a kiss to his lips. “Thank you for your service.”

“Shut up,” he choked out in a laugh, his eyes pinching shut. Smiling at him, Joey tenderly ran her fingernails through the scruffy beard that covered his jaw. Her light brown eyes trailed after her delicate movements. Niall just watched her, his stare swimming over her still flushed face and tangled mess of her red hair that fanned out over her pillow, his mind reeling in how gorgeous she looked like that. He breathed out a smile.

“We should go out,” Joey then said, dropping her hand to rest on his bare chest as her eyes met his.

Niall buckled his brows. “Go out?”

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug of her one shoulder, “like on a date.”

Turning his head to peer up at the ceiling, Niall took a moment to think as his fingers resting behind his head twisted in his hair. It was then that it dawned on him...she was right. Two weeks gone and they had barely even left her bedroom. He glanced back over at her. “You made me realize that I am a fuckin’ dickhead and haven’t taken ya out on a proper date yet,” he admitted, a slight look of remorse settling on his face.

Joey breathed out a tiny smile and rubbed her palm over his chest. “Babe, it's fine,” she assured him, “besides...it's kinda hard to go out on a date when you’re literally inside me 24/7…”

“Fair enough,” he snorted, “but ya know, we could not do that thing for at least a few hours and do the proper goin’ out on a date thing instead.”

She heartily chuckled, her nose scrunching up as she pushed the side of her face into the pillow. “But I really like that thing...,” she started as she peeked back over at him, “but to be honest, I was kinda wondering when you were gonna ask me…”

“Ask ya out on a date?”

“Yeah, well, I mean…” Joey paused and flicked her stare over to her window. She pulled in a low breath. “We are dating, right? I mean...I know we haven’t, like, defined anything or whatever, but–”

Joey’s words cut short as she felt the heat of Niall’s hand slide under the covers to rest on her thigh. His thumb rubbed small circles into her skin and her gaze caught his once more. “Yeah, petal,” he said softly, “we’re datin’.”

She sheepishly bit down at her lip and slipped her hand from Niall’s chest to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Okay...so we’re dating,” she said. Niall couldn’t help but smile at her reaction as she looked back over at him. “But we’ve never actually gone out on a date.”

“You make a good point, darlin’,” he agreed, nodding his head. She laughed. “Perhaps, we should fix that then?”

“Perhaps…”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Jo, will you do me the honor of goin’ on a date with me?”

“That depends,” Joey lifted her brows, “are you ready for us to be seen together?”

“What?”

“It’s only been two weeks since you broke up with Lila…” Joey reminded him.

Niall rolled his eyes in a low huff. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, I told ya, she didn’t matter.”

“I know, but…” Joey paused, and pulled in a deep breath, “but people might not look at it like that since everyone knew you were together. And it was different for us before when we were just friends, but seeing us now? They don’t know that it wasn’t real between you guys.”

His blue eyes darted over her face and Niall slipped his hand from her thigh under the covers to gently sweep his knuckles over her cheek. “Listen,” he told her, his voice soft, “ya can’t worry ‘bout what any of those people say, the media, the fans, they’re all gonna talk shit no matter what the truth is. Ya can’t pay any mind to it.” Joey nodded quietly as she chewed at her bottom lip. “It’s a double edged sword, ya know? You wanna be private and keep it all to yourself but also ya wanna live your life and shout it from the rooftops. Ya gotta find a balance and that can be hard sometimes.”

Joey fell quiet for a second, her eyes glazing over as thoughts swirled around in her head. Thoughts of him, with Lila. Ones that she would have assumed would never creep into her mind again now that they were together. “A few weeks ago, I saw the pictures of you and Lila,” she began, catching his stare. “Walking down the street, holding hands...kissing.”

Niall inhaled sharply and tucked his lips into his mouth. He knew exactly what she was referring to, and he instantly felt terrible. That was definitely not something he had wanted her to see. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered.

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, shaking her head, “I-...well, at the time I wanted to throw up, and I’m pretty sure I was two seconds away from breaking my phone in half,” Niall chuckled as she went on, “but…” Joey shrugged.

Rolling over on his side to face her, Niall reached out and carefully slid his finger along her neck, untucking some of her red hair that was clamped in between her cheek and her shoulder. His hand dragged down to rest at the curve of her waist as his eyes drifted over hers. “Can I be honest with ya?” he then said, Joey nodding in response. “Her agent kinda set that up.”

“What?” she said, her eyes going big.

“I wasn’t very keen on it,” Niall explained, the side of his face scrunching up, “it’s not somethin’ I normally do, ya know, like the pap walk type of things. But...they thought it would be good for her image, brand or whatever and...she asked me to do it and...well, I did.”

“Wow,” Joey breathed out, moving her eyes down to his chest. She let her finger gently twirl into the dark hairs. “So…you’re a whore.”

She shot her eyes up to his, unable to hold back her smile as Niall burst into a laugh, his arm wrapping around her naked torso and pulling her closer into him. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, Joey’s giggles being quieted by the press of his mouth on hers.

“Just know,” he went on after easing his lips away, “that I’d never have to pretend that shit with you...ever.”

Her fingers carded through the front of his hair. “I know,” she whispered, smiling as she swept some strands off to the side. “So, what’s your plans for our big date?”

“Jesus, I dunno,” Niall shrugged, “gotta think about it.”

Joey slipped her fingertip along his jaw. “Okay…” she said sweetly, meeting his heavy lidded stare, “well, can you think about it while you fuck me again?”

He smirked at her insatiblity, his touch dipping down to her backside making Joey’s eyes flutter. “Not sure I’ll do much thinkin’ about that while I’m fuckin’ you…” he told her as he brushed the tip of his nose to hers, drawing her back into a kiss.

•

Trying to get Niall to give Joey even the tiniest of a hint about their big first date was like pulling teeth. He was not budging, not in the slightest. He remained tight-lipped the entire rest of the week, smiling at Joey when she would try to tease it out of him with sexual favors or pretend like she was angry. Niall thought her stomping feet and crossed arms were too cute, but not cute enough to give in. He wanted their first date to be something she would remember forever, that they could remember forever together. He wanted it to be beyond special and an experience beyond her wildest imaginations.

Niall wasn’t always a stellar planner when it came to things like that. Big dates and such, if he was being honest with himself, it never really was something he put too much thought into. A football match or just some drinks at a local pub seemed to do well enough for him. And maybe it had to do with the fact that he hadn’t found someone that sparked that in him, that made him want to go all out and splurge and take the time to really make it a night they wouldn’t forget. Not until he met Joey, anyway.

He had enlisted the help of his PA and his best mate, Chris, to help with the planning. Niall knew exactly what he wanted to do, but keeping up with all the tasks to actually get it done in merely a week's time, was more consuming than he had thought it was going to be. So his friends happily stepped in to take some of the load off. Besides Niall running into the studio to do last minute touches on the album and slipping into meetings to deal with the marketing aspect of its upcoming release, he was busy using his networks to pull as many strings as he could for their unforgettable night. As the days flew by, the date night fast approaching, he was getting more and more anxious. He wanted it to go off without a hitch, and apart from Joey’s constant adorable curiosity over the matter, the execution was coming along flawlessly.

The night before, Niall gave into one little hint, one that he thought would be useful anyway, and told her that she needed to dress nicely. Joey shot him a look; buckled brows and a huffed eye roll that quickly sent him the message that she had no other intention besides dressing nicely for their date in the first place. He laughed it off. But Joey was absolutely reeling underneath her nonchalant attitude. She was giddy with excitement, and wholeheartedly intrigued by all of his well intentioned secrecy and sneaking around, and she could not wait until the night of their date arrived.

Niall contemplated blind folding Joey for the duration of the car ride to their destination just to enhance the surprise aspect, but then he figured that might be a bit too much. And could have very well freaked her out more than it would have left her curious and excited, at least in that kind of situation. So he did the next best thing; he hired a driver and sat with Joey in the backseat of the SUV, capturing her full attention for the entire hour and a half drive. Upon telling Joey his not-well-thought out plan of the blindfold, she doubled over in giggles, telling him it wouldn’t have been necessary in the first place.

“Oh yeah? Don’t give a shit about our date anymore, is that it?” Niall teased her, licking over his lips as his fingers caressed hers that sat linked together on top of her crossed thigh.

Joey raised a brow and gave him a smirk. “Not at all. I’m just more interested in staring at you than whatever is outside those windows.”

Niall took her compliment in stride, just a small amount of blush folding over her cheeks as he bowed his head a little. Joey loved to see him react that way to her, to know that she could still make the red pulse to his cheeks with just a few words. Peering back over at her, he met her gaze for a moment before letting his blue eyes slide down her frame. He couldn't even pretend that she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on, he knew it and he told her nearly every day, but looking at her sitting next to him; body hugging red dress, matched with a red lipstick and her hair cascading over her bared shoulders in tight waves, it was unbelievable. She was perfect, she was real and smart and beautiful and Niall couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Picking up her hand, Joey eased her light brown eyes from the glow of the radio screen over to Niall just as he placed a soft kiss to the bend of her knuckles.

“You’re too much,” she gently chided, Niall smiling against her skin.

Placing their hands back to their spot on her lap, he cocked his head slightly. “And you’re incredible.”

Joey glanced down at Niall’s own attire; crisp black trousers, a maroon button up shirt that was left a little open (at Joey’s request), and a simple fitted dinner jacket. His dark hair was styled loosely and easy–Niall knowing that’s how she liked it–just swept over to the side, with his beard grown in just a step past stubble and it was safe to say, he looked like a million bucks. And she couldn’t believe he was all hers. “So are you, baby.”

“How long is the drive anyway?” Joey quickly added, wrinkling her brow as she peeked around.

Niall brought her attention back to him. “Don’t worry, love,” he assured her, checking the time on his watch, “we’ll be there soon.”

He wasn’t wrong. It was only about another thirty minutes before the car had pulled off the main road onto a smaller back road. Joey was a bit perplexed as to where exactly they were going and what Niall had planned, but she agreed to go with the flow and regardless of her curiosities, she trusted him. The sun had just begun to set by the time the car had finally come to a stop, Niall making Joey cover her eyes with her hands the last few minutes of the drive down the bumpy road. Hopping out of the car and over to her side to help her out, Niall grabbed Joey’s hand in his, encouraging her to keep her eyes closed for just another minute until he was able to lead her right to where he wanted her to be. The ground felt a bit squishy under her heels, like she was standing on pads of grass and dirt but the air swirling around her was cool and boasted a fragrance that sunk into her lungs like an old familiar scent. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet and she was already bursting with nerves and a flurry of excitement.

Niall slipped behind her, standing close enough that his front was touching her back and his mouth sat right at her ear. Joey reached her hands back, searching for his and Niall smiled as he entangled his fingers with hers. She was trembling, Niall felt it against his palms, against his body and a soft grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in closer to her.

Joey held her breath; Niall’s warmth encompassed her and seeped out onto the side of her neck and her heart pounded in her chest. She bit down on her bottom lip as Niall inhaled sharply. “Open your eyes, darlin’,” he whispered.

Squeezing her fingers around Niall’s, Joey slowly expelled air between rounded lips as she opened her eyes. The sight was breathtaking. Miles of orange and green with intricate pops of purple scattered throughout the endless fields of wildflowers. The golden sunset was beaming down across the tops of the brightly colored petals in the distance, the light breeze swaying and twisting, reminiscent of a surge in the ocean’s tide. Her brown eyes wide with wonderment, her red lips parted in silent awe and Niall tipped his head to the side to watch the expression gleam on her face.

“I have never seen anything like this before,” she mumbled, her stare swimming over the waves of poppy and lavender that reached all the way to her toes. “It’s so beautiful. This is...absolutely extraordinary, Niall.”

His heavy-lidded eyes stayed on her. “It is.”

Shifting her head to the right to catch his stare, her red hair slipped over her shoulder and down across her chest and Niall tenderly uncurled his fingers from her one hand to cradle around her face, easing the young woman into a kiss. “This is just the beginning,” he breathed out as his lips left hers.

“You’re kidding?”

“Did ya think I was just gonna bring ya to a field of flowers for our date?” he replied with a furrow of his brow.

Joey laughed and gave him a slight shrug. “I never know with you.”

“Fair enough,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head, “but how ‘bout ya look all the way over to your left and tell me what ya see.”

Her hazelnut eyes grew big and Joey turned her face all the way to the other side, a low gasp spilling past her lips. Just beyond a sparse line of trees, a bit off into the distance and right at the edge of another wildflower field, sat a round dining table, complete with chilled wine and tapered candles and dressed in the finest linens. There was a small tent off to the side of that, Joey could see a few people busily moving back and forth inside, that had strings of lights connected from the tiered top to the branches of the trees overhead. It was stunning.

She smiled big over at Niall, and he felt the flush fill his cheeks as he carefully ran his fingers up through his hair just as Joey grabbed his hand to pull him along with her as they walked towards the table. “Holy shit,” she muttered under her breath as they sat down across from one another, a hired waiter already there to pour their wine, “this is...crazy, Niall!”

Niall pushed out a short laugh, his mouth turned down at the corners as he placed his napkin in his lap. “Only the best for you, babe,” he said to her.

Thanking the waiter as he walked away, Joey picked up her wine glass, Niall following suit and they clinked them together before taking a sip. “But tell me, what would you have done had it rained?” she asked him, biting off her smile.

Niall leaned forward and laid his crossed arms along the edge of the table. “Absolutely no fuckin’ idea,” he snorted, not missing a beat.

Her head tossed back in a cackle. Niall kept his blue eyes on her, watching her nose cutely scrunch up as the sweet sound of her laugh eased over his ears. Fuck, this girl had his whole heart. “Guess you just lucked out then…” she commented, taking another sip of her wine to settle herself.

He smiled. “Guess I did.”

Dinner went on without a single hitch; catered by one of Niall’s friends and most trusted chef to the stars and the most diligent and kind wait staff Joey had ever seen. The two laughed and talked, made soft eyes and played with fingertips across the table as they drank nearly a whole bottle of red wine. The night sky had darkened considerably by that time, the stars blinking above them and the moon casting a shimmery glow upon their skin. It was so romantic, the most romantic date Joey had probably ever experienced, being out there with a handsome man, amongst a field of beautiful wildflowers and tasting the deliciousness of the expertly prepared food and wine.

She was not a loss for sweet smiles or breathy giggles, or the rosiness that invaded her cheeks every time Niall locked eyes with her and Joey sat back in her chair in a low sigh as she tipped her glass up, emptying the rest of her wine past her lips. “This night has been...something else, Niall,” she told him, setting her glass back onto the table. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Leaning forward a bit, Niall rested his elbows on the table. “Night isn’t over yet, babe, got one more surprise for ya,” he casually mentioned. “Think you’re ready for it?”

Joey peered at him, eyes narrowing. “I dunno what else you could do to surprise me tonight,” she said, lightly laughing him off, “but sure, lay it on me.”

“Love to lay it on ya real good, but time and place, sweetheart,” Niall spit back, cocking his brow. Joey rolled her eyes at his lame attempt at a dirty joke and he chuckled. “Just fuckin’ with ya. I’m a bit nervous, sorry.”

Joey shook her head lightly, chewing at her bottom lip. “Why would you be nervous?”

“How ‘bout ya turn around and see, yeah?” he then said, giving a nod as he flicked his eyes behind her. Joey furrowed her brow slightly in confusion and slowly twisted her upper body around in her chair, her eyes sliding through the darkness of the night as they landed on the caterers tent behind her. It wasn’t but another few seconds before the white drapes parted slightly and Joey’s mouth fell open. Her stare went big, bigger than they had all night and she watched with a stampeding in her heart as her most favorite band in the entire world, the Wildflowers, stepped out from the dark and into the glow of the fairy lights strung above.

Joey couldn’t even breathe, and she clamped her hands over her mouth in a squeal, her eyes as wide as saucers and stuck to the band as they pulled out their instruments and began to play a private acoustic set, just for her. Glancing over at Niall, she nearly had tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Oh my-...oh my God, are you fucking for real?” she said to him, her voice hardly carrying over the sound of the music. “Niall!”

But he just sat there, his gaze fixated on Joey, watching and relishing in her joy and excitement. Seeing her face light up, the smile spreading wider across her lips and happy noises exuding from her as she bounced like an overjoyed child on Christmas morning. The band had started to sing; a pre-approved setlist that Niall had written up from all Joey’s favorite songs that she had mentioned to him over the months of knowing her. And he just slumped back in his chair, a contented smile on his face and his stare never leaving her. She swayed slightly in her seat as she listened and watched, and after the band had moved onto the second song, a bit of a slower one, Niall finally got the courage to lean towards Joey and ask her something. “Would you like to dance?” he spoke up, Joey most definitely hearing him over the calm, soothing melody of the song and she peeked over at him. He had such a softness in his face that it made a warmth ooze over her entire body. He shrugged. “I’m not much of a dancer, pretty shit to be fair, but I’ll give it a go.”

Reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear, Joey smiled in a slight blush. “Yes, I’d love to dance with you.”

Niall stood up from the table, placing his napkin that was in his lap near his empty wine glass and stepped over to Joey. She glanced up at him as he held out his palm to her, and she struggled to pull in a decent breath, slipping her hand in his. He helped her up as she carefully laid her napkin in her chair and let him lead them both a bit out from the table in front of the band.

His large hands wrapped around the small of her waist, and Joey hooked her arms over his shoulders, her fingers mindlessly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as they swayed back and forth. “You’ve outdone yourself, Niall James,” she told him, biting at her lip.

He smirked. “Oh yeah? Where do I fall on that checklist now?”

“Still keeping score, huh?” she teased.

“Naturally.”

They smiled at each other, cheeks blushing pink before Joey braved an answer. “No competition,” she said honestly, slinking her hands around his neck to pull him into a gentle kiss. “Best first date I’ve ever been on...actually the best date I’ve ever been on.” She paused in a laugh. “To be honest, I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to top it.”

Niall cocked his head back and peered down at her through narrowed eyes. “Who says I’m takin’ ya out again?”

There was a playful smirk tugging at his lips and Joey gasped, dropping her jaw. “So what, you were just gonna wine me and dine me–”

“Definitely sixty-nine ya…”

Joey threw her head back in a vivacious laugh, one that could have stolen the show had the music not been so loud. Her face came back down, with her red hair slinging over her one shoulder. Rolling her eyes at him, she sucked in a breath. “I guess I’m okay with that.”

Niall chuckled softly and pushed a kiss to her lips. His arms clamped around her body as their lips slipped away, Joey tucking herself down against him as he held her tight. With her cheek resting at the front of his shoulder, eyes glued to the band singing before them, Niall tenderly kissed the top of her head. “This is only the beginnin’, my love,” he whispered, hoping she would hear, “we got so much more to come, me and you.”

Joey smiled at his words and slipped her arms under his, hooking her hands at his upper back. She held him securely, so close that she could no longer tell her heartbeat from his and her eyes eased closed as they moved back and forth to the beautifully melodic sound of the music.

#niall #niall horan #niall smut #niall fic #niall fan fic #niall horan fan fic #niall ou #slowburn #tdg #chapter 11 #this oneeeeee GOD can i please date niall RIGHT NOW??#i hope you guys enjoy #please read and SHARE #and let me know what you think!!#i love hearing all your thoughts :))

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19mrs-barnes17 · 5 years ago

Text

Wrong Turn

Summary: You’re a hunter arrested by S.H.I.E.L.D. due to a misunderstanding, now you would have to prove your innocence.

Part: 1/3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Word count: 2,242

A/N: Something I worked on to keep myself less stressed with all the work I have to get done. Enjoy!

The cool metal pressed against the flesh of your wrists, tugging and rubbing at the skin uncomfortably with every movement. This was officially the most difficult bind you had ever had to get yourself out of and there wasn’t much of a good idea in your head. Between the heavily guarded facility and the grade A pat down, you were running low on options. Even if you could get the bobby pin from your hair there was still the matter of escaping the interrogation room of a government intelligence agency. Sincerely, your ass was absolutely screwed with no chance of rescue. Any attempt would be idiocy, the best you could hope for was to be transferred somewhere accessible.

Stray strands of hair, too short to be contained, began to slide into view as you lowered your head into your hands. This was going to be a long month, you just knew they would keep you for ages but you wouldn’t give up a thing. Torture was not really a concern of yours. The vents were far too small to fit you. You had been poked and prodded plenty. The glass is probably shatter proof. Most likely the worst part was going to be the monotonous and repetitive questioning. Perhaps if you got a hostage you could make your way to an exit. They may leave you alone a while in an attempt to drive you mad through isolation. A hostage is too dangerous and no certainty you would even make it a foot past the door before being surrounded. They’ll probably send some lower level agent to do the interrogation, no way you were high enough for an Avenger or anyone of importance. God you would kill to have a brain like Sherlock in a moment like this, though if you did you wouldn’t have gotten caught.

No words, the man entered, slapped a typical manilla folder on the table, and sat down in the chair across from you. All this you saw through your hair as you lifted your head, shaking it to clear your field of vision. He wasn’t very impressive in his build, but then again you’ve seen a woman who looked like she had a foot in the grave toss a 180 pound man through a wall, so who were you to say. So far his silent tactic was already worse than him tossing questions at you, but you had seen Good Will Hunting, you knew what he was doing and you wouldn’t crack.

You wanted to say hours ticked by, the hand of the clock moving so slowly time almost seemed as though it were at a standstill. However, there was no clock. Time either flew by or it moved sluggishly, either way you could have cared less. This was simply the beginning so if you could get used to time no longer existing, the better of you would be. It was only a social construct anyhow.

“I see you’re not much of a talker Ms… Y/LN.” His gaze scanned you as if he didn’t see what all the fuss was about, his facial expression growing difficult to actually gauge. The happy go lucky act didn’t really convince you, seemed more like a cheap trick to make himself appealing. “You can go ahead and drop the cuffs, I know you picked them 17 minutes ago.”

The clank of the cuffs seemed so loud in the deadly silent room, and yet neither of you flinched an inch. As you rubbed your wrists gently the man finally opened the manila folder, his fingers lifted pages until his eyes found what they were looking for.

“My name’s Phil Coulson by the way. I know you don’t care, but at least this way you have a name to curse at while you sit there silently staring a whole through my head.” He smiled softly, eyes moving back to the file with a certain flicker of curiosity occasionally popping in. “You’ve got quite the record here: parents dead at 12, taken in by a drunk uncle, arrested for grave robbery at 14, assault of an officer at 15, served two years in juvie before disappearing for 8 years, and then popped back up at 25 with a murder charge before disappearing again. Now here you are, sitting in a S.H.I.E.L.D. interrogation room because one of our agents came across you shooting something they couldn’t quite explain.

“Oh, and we have the body as well as your DNA all over the murder weapon. And yet you sit here, not in a police station, because a man I have known for 6 years claims that he saw the woman you shot transform into an exact replica of you before his eyes. Now, we would have typically written this off as some sort of psychotic break… if not for the fact that the victim looks remarkably identical to you. Down to the DNA, Ms. Y/LN. But there is no record of you having an identical twin sister or any sibling for that matter.” The man let the folder slip from his fingers and shut itself on the table. “Did I miss anything?”

You arched a brow at the agent, leaning back into the chair with your arms crossed, a shrug manifesting from nowhere. Phil seemed pleased to receive even this tiny gesture and you were mentally kicking yourself for cracking in the slightest.

“A shrug, that’s progress.” He smirked at you with the strangest look in his eyes, as if he knew he’d crack you in the first go. As a result you stared at the wall until he bid you farewell, it only took a few minutes at most before your cuffs were replaced. The first of your many bobby pins was confiscated and then an escort shoved you to a cell.

Days passed with the same level of excitement filling them, questions came rarely from Phil Coulson and it perplexed you. His strategy almost seemed like he wanted to gain your trust rather than interrogate you. None of this was what you expected the agency’s interrogation tactics to look like. They never bribed you with good food or promise of television or a book, only ever giving you the same sandwich and water every day. Twice.

Sure the isolation bugged the hell out of you, but you had spent so much time alone on the road that it didn’t really feel all that different. What actually drove you mad was having to sit through that agent telling stories the entire time of your questioning. Every day you heard what you assumed to be figments of his imagination, and boy did they compel you to speak. You almost held your silence for two weeks, Phil was impressed. But you cracked again, so you only allowed yourself snarky comments and bullshit. Anything close to a real answer was out of the question.

“I’m telling you, totally died for like two days. True story.”

“Yeah? I know a guy who died for six whole months. What else ya got?” Phil quirked a brow and made a strange face before shaking his head.

“I’ve saved the world a few times.”

“Join the club, we have cupcakes.”

Eventually enough time passed that management was less than pleased with the lack of useful information gathered. So today, instead of the slightly-growing-on-you-like-a-weird-uncle Phil Coulson, a man you had read about in history books sat before you. And yes he smelled like freedom, if freedom smelled like a Macy’s cologne and kind of musky. The strangest part was how compelling his disappointment was, almost made you sing like a canary a few times.

With Mr. America now in place, every interrogation was exactly how you pictured it on your ride here. Well, minus the torture. You were quite shocked at how civilized they all acted and how they never seemed keen on raising a hand to you. Sure the impression that they were different had come from years of television and monsters acting to the contrary, but it still caught you off guard. This didn’t mean they were Ellen DeGeneres kind, but they weren’t like that shifter who held you for a whole day before you came to and got loose.

Today was different. Usually the man walked in, twisted round the chair and sat, but not on this particular day. No he seemed unusually upset, not in a fit throwing way but in a ‘I’m going to stare impatiently at you and huff a lot’ sort of way. It was strange to see a man you had once considered your childhood hero look at you with such displeasure. This entire situation seemed to be getting on his nerves, and quite frankly you had been tired of it from the moment that agent tasered you. He watched as you pulled a bobby pin from your hair, your very last one that you had saved for an escape attempt that you now felt was never coming, and picked the lock of your cuffs with ease. When he moved to undo what you had done you stood and he froze, waiting for you to make a move but was baffled at what you did do.

“When my parents died and my uncle Bobby took me in, I was unreachable. He thought I was never going to come out of the dark hole that I had crawled into. But when I heard the sound of one of your weird film segments, the ones where you were in a white room and you do that thing you do every day where you flip the chair around and look disappointed.” He furrowed his brow, moved his chair so he could see you as you lie on the floor and stare up at the ceiling. “Well when my depressed 12 year old self heard your voice telling me it was going to be okay… heh, I guess I naively believed it. I was still never the same, but who would be after being orphaned because a monster decided your parents were the perfect dinner.”

You turned your head to the side, eyes trailing up to those world famous blue eyes that stared at you with uncertainty. He made no move to interrupt you and so you went on, eyes remaining on his.

“Some things you just can’t unsee, and no hero in a colorful outfit can restore what was stolen from me that night. Not my parents nor my childhood. I got 12 years before I had to punch my card and grow up.” His eyes almost looked as though they had a hint of sadness in them, but you ignored this trick of the eyes and returned your gaze to the ceiling. “I began to learn about what killed my parents and the things that go bump in the night. My uncle Bobby helped me safely navigate my new reality, even tried to stop me from hunting. I’m a stubborn woman however, so he had no choice but to teach me the ropes and train me. He said and I quote, ‘If you’re going to do something stupid, you might as well be smart about it’. That was before I lost him too.”

“You’ve lost a lot of people, but you’ve killed just as many.” He leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his thighs as his hands clasped together. “This isn’t going to change anything, I still need to know the truth.”

“You want the truth, you have to go through the mud to find it. And yes I’ve lost people, but you get used to that in this life. None of us expect to survive very long, and no one ever successfully leaves the life. Most hunt alone, like me, it’s easier to not allow attachment.”

“Sounds like a lonely life.”

“The price for other’s safety is always high. I’d have thought you of all people would know that Captain.” You sigh, sitting up and crossing your legs. “Are you letting me sit on this dirty floor because I’m giving you information?”

“Yes.”

“Is it unreasonable to bargain for a better chair?”

“Yes.”

“Ouch. Dirty floor it is.”

“The floor is not filthy.”

“Oh, yeah? When’s the last time it was cleaned?” He shrugged and you were almost compelled to get up from the floor, likely crawling with bacteria, but it was too late and you were far too lazy to move. “Guess it's my home now.”

“Would you please stop talking about the floor and continue?”

On it went, for an unknown amount of time you sat on the very likely dirty floor and told Captain America about your life. From your first hunt all the way to the job that got you caught. It was the therapy session you had expected, and he certainly didn’t seem to believe you when you finished, but it was done and so were you. After he placed your handcuffs on you and confiscated your last bobby pin you were sent back to your cell, no further words.

“Prove it.” The first words you had heard after a day of solitude and they made absolutely zero sense to your tired brain. Sluggishly sitting up in your bed your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed at the man behind the door.

“I’m sorry our psychic link seems to be malfunctioning. What am I proving on this fine… morning? Afternoon?”

“Your innocence.”

Tags: @qtmeryr @broken-hearted-barnes @asphalt-cocktail @gstran18 @cantnkrusshedevil

#marvel #supernatural #dean winchester #steve rogers #bucky barnes #phil coulson #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #SuperMarvel crossover

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slytherinknowitall · 5 years ago

Text

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 2: Doubt

(Click here for chapter 1!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter�� book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a timid knock at her door, and Hermione would have been lying if she had said that that sound did not make her heart skip a beat.

Putting aside the book she’d been absentmindedly flicking through, she walked to the door with a rather stiff and unsteady gait before pulling it open to reveal the familiar figure of the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” she whispered breathlessly, trying hard to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. “Um, please, come in.”

Stepping aside, she watched as the man hesitantly took one cautious step into the crammed room; and the unusual sight of his visible wariness made her mentally smack her own forehead.

Of course. He can’t see!

“Here, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out her hand without a moment’s thought. When she touched his forearm, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”

Snape did not say anything in response. For an agonizingly long time, they just stood like that in the doorway of her bedroom, her hand on his arm, the awkwardness in the air virtually palpable. It was only when there was suddenly the sound of commotion coming from downstairs that Hermione summoned up the nerve to pull him inside, locking the door behind them. Getting out her wand, she applied a silencing charm as well as some protective wards for good measure.

Better safe than sorry. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to have someone just barge in.

Turning back around to face him, she tentatively grabbed his elbow and guided him towards her bed. She could not help but silently cringe as she saw him there, seated on her tiny twin-size bed, thinking about what might be happening soon in that very spot. But alas, her small bedroom, which she had moved into a mere two months earlier, did not offer any other sitting accommodations. And so, though her heart was trembling so very terribly, she went and sat next to him.

For a while, neither one of them spoke. Kneading her fingers, the young woman struggled to ignore how uncomfortably close she presently was to her former teacher as she stared out the window overlooking the deserted street outside. Looking back, she could not have said with certainty whether it had only been a few minutes or several hours, but by the time the streetlights came on, she finally plucked up the courage to say, “I’m glad that you decided to come here so that we can talk in private.”

“I did not have much of a choice,” Snape admitted huskily. “Alastor practically pushed me upstairs while Albus tried to contain everyone else in the kitchen.”

“They’re still not very thrilled about this, aren’t they?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “Most of them were ready to jump at my throat and kill me with their bare hands right there and then.”

“Oh …” Hermione had to swallow hard. “I’m sorry. They really ought not to treat you like that.”

“I don’t blame them. I truly have half a mind to turn my own wand on myself.”

A troubled frown creased Hermione’s forehead. There was an obvious hint of blatant self-hatred dripping from his words, and she did not like that. She did not like that one bit.

But before she even had the chance to respond, he continued, “I will be honest with you … I do not even know what to say to you right now.”

Vaguely tracing the diamond pattern of the quilt they were sitting on with one finger, she tried her best to sound nonchalant as she mumbled, “Well, why don’t you simply tell me whether or not you accept my offer.”

“Miss Granger, I –”

“Would you mind if we used first names?” she interrupted him. “Just for today. It’s just that formalities would make this whole thing even weirder than it already is.”

She saw him hesitate for a second.

“All right … Hermione,” he ultimately conceded, and it was so weird to hear him properly address her by her given name for the very first time – though she had to admit that it sounded quite nice coming from his lips. Something about that deep voice of his made her stomach clench up into knots. “As much as I appreciate it, I obviously cannot accept your proposal.”

“Why not?”

“Even forgetting the fact that you were my student for seven years and that I am a lot older than you, I could never in good faith make you endure such a thing. This, this curse,” he spat out the word with disgust. “Is a lot more powerful than you could ever even imagine. It would strip me of all control and force me to do unspeakable things to you that could very well destroy your sanity.”

He turned away from her in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his facial expression which was filled with nothing but self-loathing. “Even now, I can feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, tugging at my mind. It senses your presence. I can hear it whisper to me, bidding me to just rip off this stupid blindfold and take you right here. Merely sitting next to you already requires more will power than any time I have had to shield my mind from the Dark Lord.”

The witch’s breathing hitched in her throat. His crude confession made her heart beat so fast that it was almost threatening to break out of her ribcage. Willing herself to take a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay put.

No. No, you can do this. For the Order. For Harry.

“I don’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would have sent you up here if he thought that there was a chance of me being seriously harmed,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “And I also don’t believe that any kind of dark magic would ever be able to entirely overpower your morals and your good heart.”

He snorted with biting laughter. “Then you clearly do not know me well at all. Or him, for that matter. All that old madman cares about is the cause. We are all nothing but mere chess pieces in that little, rigged game of his he likes to play.”

“Don’t say that –”

“But it’s the truth! Don’t you see?” His tone gradually got louder and louder. “Any reasonably sane man in his position would have simply hired an unsuspecting prostitute, slipped her a couple of potions and then sent her back home with an altered memory and a nice, big bag filled to the brim with Galleons, blissfully unaware of any specifics. But not Albus. No, in his mind, raping the Muggle-born third of the Golden Trio is the perfect way to feign loyalty to the enemy and thus securing his plaything’s rank among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Ha! As distraught as he might have acted, he knew from the beginning that you’d be the one to volunteer. Only you’d be foolish enough to let the greasy git of the dungeons fuck you in an attempt to save his pathetic, miserable life. You and your stupid saviour complex. So please, don’t be so naïve. This is all just a fucking charade to that bloody bedlamite!”

What followed that angry outburst was silence – complete and utter silence. Not even the rustling of the trees outside or the rapid palpitations inside both of their chests seemed to be able to penetrate their noiseless bubble. Hermione could feel her own pulse thumbing in her ears, and her mouth felt almost disgustingly dry. Wordlessly counting to a hundred, she at last opened her eyes and dared to cast a glance at the wizard. He was sitting in a hunched-over position, his face buried in his hands. Never before had she seen him like that, so evidently helpless, so vulnerable. For some reason, it nearly made her feel physically sick to witness him in such a state.

“I understand your apprehension, I really do,” she muttered gently. “I’m not quite keen on having to do this either. But I honestly don’t see any other way out of this mess. Somehow or the other, the curse must be broken … and time is running out.”

“I know,” he croaked out, the words muffled by his hands.

“And for all his faults, Professor Dumbledore is right. We cannot put ourselves before the cause. Especially not during dark times like these.” She could not stop her face from twisting into an anguished grimace. “Besides, I dare say that you are being a bit naïve yourself if you think that tricking a stranger would not weigh heavy on your conscience, too.”

Snape slowly lifted his head a little, allowing his chin to come to a rest on the pressed-together tips of his fingers, which were horribly stained from years of daily brewing.

“I don’t think that you are fully aware of what you are getting yourself into here. This would not be like any of your previous sexual encounters, Hermione. There would be no romance, no pleasure, no satisfaction. It would be hard and fast and downright animalistic.” He squared his shoulders. “And though I have never made it a habit to keep up with my students’ private lives, I do not think that it would be wrong of me to assume that an ever-busy academic like you most likely has little experience with such things.”

Hermione felt the warmth creep into the apples of her cheeks as her whole body stiffened, and that movement did not go unnoticed.

“I mean, you do have some experience, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?” Snape rasped despairingly before letting his head fall back into his hands.

Hermione shifted her weight with unease. “I do not attach any value to my virginity if that is the problem, sir,” she was quick to assure him, glad to know that he could not see how awfully red-faced she was at that very instant. “When you think about it, it’s really nothing but a social construct. Will I be a different person afterwards? No. Will you be dead should I refuse? Most likely. So the decision is easy, really. The only reason why I … why I haven’t done it yet is because such a situation has simply never arisen before.”

“No! No, this is deranged!” he cried out as his entire body seized up and started to shake. “How could I ever live with myself knowing that I took something like that from you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I very much doubt that it would be that much better to wait for my first true love or maybe even just a drunken night out to come around first,” she argued with furrowed brows. “Because even in that case, it would be awkward and fumbling and, in all likelihood, disappointing. With you, now, it would at least serve a bigger purpose. It would be special – in its own absurd way.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

Suddenly feeling bold, Hermione grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms towards her, forcing him to face her.

“You don’t have a choice,” she told him in a beseeching yet stern manner. “You are far too valuable to the Order to stupidly risk your life like this.”

Snape opened his mouth as though to say something in response, but then he quickly closed it again. Pulling free from her grasp, he leaned back until his shoulders were touching the wall against which her bed had been pushed. He looked like a picture of misery. His complexion was of a deathly pale colour, his jaw was clenched, and a few beads of sweat could be seen running down his forehead.

“I do not want to do anything against your will,” he insisted weakly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that if I were you. I –“ She dithered for just a second. Come on, Hermione. Don’t lose him now. “I am rather physically attracted to you.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “You are?”

“Y-yes,” she replied bashfully, all at once feeling dreadfully shy. “I find you quite handsome, actually.”

She was not lying just to make him feel better either. Truth be told, she’d had a slight fascination with him ever since he took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position during her sixth year, when his passion for the subject really started to shine through – particularly during his more physical demonstrations.

Still, she was glad when he did not ask her to elaborate any further. Watching as he ran a tremulous hand through his jet-black hair, she heard him say, “Surely you are aware of the fact that some men would not take kindly to the fact that you are not chaste anymore?”

“Good!” Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “If they truly measure my worth as a person by who I have given my body to, then I’d rather have them think of me as used goods and leave me alone all together.”

“And what about Weasley?”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “What about him?”

“He seemed … very much opposed to the idea.”

“Oh, he can sod right off!” she snarled angrily, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want anything from him. I never have.”

Walking the short distance to her nearby dressing table, she pulled open one of its drawers and fished out a black hair tie which she then used to fasten her brown curls into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checking her appearance in the half-tarnished mirror, she could see the man rub his hands across his thighs in obvious discomfort.

“It could hurt,” he said in what sounded like a last-ditch effort to keep from having to yield himself to his fate.

Turning around, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“I’m sure that I have experienced worse,” she told him calmly, and for a moment, neither one of them said anything. Hermione sat back down next to him. “But like I said, I don’t think you’d ever be actively out to hurt me. I trust you, you know?”

Even though they were mostly hidden behind the blindfold, she could still see his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was abundantly clear that even the mere notion of someone like her trusting someone like him seemed utterly unfathomable to the dark wizard.

There was another short moment of heavy silence. Then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he finally asked, “Are you really sure?”

The tone of his voice nearly broke her heart. He was normally such an assertive and stern man, but now he just sounded so defeated. It made for an easy choice.

“Yes.”

(Click here for chapter 3!)

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duker42 · 6 years ago

Note

How about vampire Levi falling in love with a human reader where their love gets to the point she lets him suck her blood, but Levi's mad about it. Angst & smut please!! 😍 I love your writing. I know my request is kinda clichè btw 😅

***No sparkly Vamps here!!! *****WARNING*****NSFW

💜Blood Lust💜

He had taken her for his own selfish desires. Not wanted to be alone, needing someone who could venture out into the sunlight, plus he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. There was just something about her smell.

Y/N had lived with Levi for 6 months before they had ever become intimate. Well, she had lived, Levi had just...existed. She had originally been terrified when he had brought her here. He had found her, in the middle of being robbed and beaten. Levi had killed her attacker before it could turn into something worse. She had lost consciousness after seeing her pale savior sink his teeth into her assaults neck, draining his blood until the light in his eyes faded.

She had been surprised to find that vampires weren’t the myths she thought they were. Even more surprised to find one that was so damn...clean. His dwelling wasn’t the drab and dreary cobweb infested nightmare that was portrayed in the movies. Yes it was old, but it was light and bright during the day, and spotless.

The motorized window coverings blacked out any rooms he wanted to be in during the daylight hours, protecting him from the very deadly, in his case, UV rays. She had found herself at ease in his presence over time, despite his blunt and rude manner, he was a man that cared about others.

She found it odd that Levi was so keen on preserving human life, considering they were his food. The man he had killed the night he had saved her was the first life he had taken in five years. He relied on donors or blood banks for his meals, resisting urge to haunt the shadows and prey on the unsuspecting.

The first time they had slept together, Y/N knew that she was totally in love with the vampire that had changed her life. She had practically seduced him, with the man being so resistant to letting someone into his non beating heart.

~~~~~

“Levi.” She ventures as she kissed down his porcelain, chilly throat. “I want you to feed from me.”

His hands stop as they were stroking her stomach and gripping her ass.

He pulled his head away from where he had been nuzzling her throat. “No.” His voice was hard and flat.

“But why?” Curiosity burned in her eyes as she looked into his silvery orbs. She had been fascinated by their color when she had first woken up in his house. They were like liquid metal, the flecks of blue and silver constantly swirling as his stormy eyes contained the emotions he refused to let his face express.

“Reasons, brat.” He huffed, annoyed with her pressing the issue.

She wiggles on his lap. They were currently on his bed, now their bed. He always woke from the little sleep he got either horny or hungry, tonight was the former.

She nipped his ear as her warm breath washed over him. His heart may have no longer beat, but his nerves certainly worked as his body reacted to her touch. He had to remind himself to be gentle, temper his touch. She didn’t regenerate like he could. One slip, one moment where he lost himself and he could destroy the person he loved.

It scared him how hard he had fallen for the girl. The human he had found that night, struggling to fend off the degenerate that wanted her money, her body and maybe her life. He had no qualms about killing that one, as a calm rage fell over him as he caught the scent of her fear. He thought that was the moment he had started falling in love with her.

Y/N didn’t understand what she was asking. Fresh blood always caused a momentary frenzy, a split second where the monster he truly was is released. If he, in that moment, killed Y/N, he knew that he would walk out into the sunshine the very next day.

She whimpered a bit in his arms. The hands on her body relaxed as he loosened the grip he hadn’t know had tightened. Looking back at her, her cheeks flush and rosy, her eyes sparkling, he needed to remember that this human of his needed to be protected, even if it was from himself.

“Please, Levi? I want you to.” Shit, she wasn’t goin to let this go.

Levi peeled Y/N off of him and set her to the side. “I need to go clean.” And left her sitting on their bed without a backwards glance.

~~~~~

For a week he wouldn’t talk to Y/N. Wouldn’t acknowledge her presence. He didn’t sleep. All he did was obsessively clean the already immaculate house.

She watched him from the door frame. He was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing at invisible stains on the marble floors that didn’t exist. Or perhaps it had, years past. Their house was old, it was the same house where Levi had lived when he was still human. Meticulously cared for and upgraded as the centuries had past.

Levi’s mind was running as fast as his hands worked, scouring the smooth stone. Never in his 235 years, had Levi felt the connection that he had with Y/N. She accepted him for who and what he was, without reservation. Something he had never found as a human. Her only fear that night was that she was in a place she hadn’t known, after awakening from her attack. She had thought she had been kidnapped. After telling her she hadn’t, Levi had initially been willing to let her go, until she did the one thing he hadn’t expected.

She touched him. He knew that she had seen him kill that man. His ashen eyes had locked onto hers as he drank. Levi had watched her eyes roll back and Y/N slump to the ground unconscious. Knowing all of this, she had still walked up to him, with no hint of fear in her eyes and touched his cold cheek. “Thank you” She had whispered in a low clear voice.

In that moment, Y/N became his.

~~~~~

“Are you ever going to speak to me again?” Levi paused in his scrubbing for a moment before starting the rhythmic circles of the brush again.

“Are you done asking about that shit?” She knew that she had frustrated him, but damned if she was going to let this go.

“No, I’m not going to unless you explain why you are so against this.” He threw the brush down. Y/N watched it slide across the floor.

She looked up to find Levi right in front of her. His cleaning handkerchief pulled away from his face and his eyes hot and angry as they stared at her intimidatingly. In a flash, she was pushed up against he wall, his hands firmly around her arms, squeezing lightly in warning.

“Don’t fuck with me Y/N. You won’t like the consequences.” He growled out.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the powerful vampire. “You don’t scare me Levi. I know you won’t hurt me. Just tell me why?”

“Why the fuck do you want this?” He pushed off of her to pace. “You want to be my food? You want to feel like a pig set to slaughter?”

“I’m.....jealous.” He stopped and looked at her incredulously. She continued on, explaining. “I hate the thought of you touching those donors. Of them feeling any part of you, even your fangs. I had thought.....”

“You thought what?” He had stopped pacing to stand before her.

She lifted her eyes to his. “I had thought that when you told me that I was yours, it had also meant that you were mine.”

His glare softened. “Explain.”

Her face pouted slightly. “I don’t share. Period. If you set you lips on someone’s neck, it should be mine. If you feed from someone, it should be me.”

“Y/N.....I......” Words failed him. He could feel his resistance fading as he watched the hurt and insecurity cross the face he loved staring at.

“Just tell me what the problem is.” She begged, grabbing his hand.

“I could kill you, Y/N. I could lose control and squeeze you too hard or drain too much blood. I can’t risk that. I can’t risk losing you.” His eyes closed with his admission, ashamed of his shortcomings. He felt a warm hand on his cheek just like he had so many months before. Opening his eyes, he saw the love and trust she held for him in her gaze.

“You would never do that. I trust you, Levi.”

~~~~~

He had stripped them down to their underwear. Not caring for the mess blood usually made, he had prepared their bedroom. A waterproof protector covered the bed as they lay there.

“You always do it this way?” At his nod, Y/N gave a fierce scowl. “Yep, definitely not fucking sharing anymore.”

He gave a low laugh. “It’s always just a business transaction, Y/N. I drink, they get paid, we part ways.”

He leaned over body, lips hovering near her pulse. The warm beat of her blood was intoxicating, and he felt his fangs lower in anticipation. “Ready, Y/N?”

“Yes, Levi.”

With her consent, he plunged his fangs into the soft skin of her neck. Her tiny gasp filled his senses as he tasted her. Her blood filled his mouth. The sweet, thick liquid on his tongue caused a reaction he had never expected. His cock began to swell, hardening as he drank.

A fever invaded his mind. All he could think about was fucking her while he fed. Painfully overwhelming, the desire was coursing through him, clouding his mind. He didn’t want to hurt her, he wanted her screaming his name in ecstasy.

His hands tore the thin panties she wore. Her own hands were roaming on his body, but he was focused solely on her. Lowering his own underwear, he shifted, covering her body with his own. He yanked her legs open, his mouth still attacked to her neck as he filled her with a single thrust, pushing his cock into her tight center.

She cried out, pain and pleasure combined. He was large and stretched her opening as he began moving. It was fast and hard, a kinetic joining of their bodies. He pounded into her as she felt his tongue lave her neck, licking at the blood seeping from her wounds.

Once she was surrounding him, he felt a little bit calmer, but no less entranced by the woman in his arms. He moved a hand to her breast, palming it as he continued to slam his hips into hers. He heard her cries, but they seemed to be in pleasure, her hands tugging at his hair, and nails scraping down his back like in encounters past.

He rolled them over and sat up, Y/N now sitting on his cock. He sank his teeth into her again as she arched against him. He growled as she began moving against him. Her hips rocking back and forth as she rode him. Her tight walls milking him towards release as he continued to feed from her. He managed to finally pull away from her neck, running a bloodstained mouth down to her breast to capture a stiff peak.

Her blood trickled down her neck, running down to the breast as he tugged on the nipple. She moaned and moved faster against him, enjoying his mouth on her as much as his cock inside her. When the trail of blood reached his mouth, he began licking up her chest, cleaning her as much as savoring the rich nectar.

He moved them again. This time, setting her on her knees. Sliding in easily, he snapped his hips forward and began to drive himself into her wet cavern. He sped up, confident the eager woman would love the pace that no human could set. Her erotic gasp and high pitched keening let him know he was right. As he felt her begin to tighten around him, he knew that he was close, pulling her back flush against his chest, he pushed deeper as he closed his lips around her neck again.

Screaming his name, she shattered in his arms. Her body shook and he felt the warm rush of her release as her body gripped him. He felt his own body tighten and he came with an inhuman snarl, his bloody teeth exposed as he filled her with his cum.

They slumped down together in the bed, Y/N gasping for breath. Levi was in a daze, he had never felt a need that strong, experienced an orgasm that all consuming. As he came down off his post coitus high, he began to look Y/N over, checking to make sure he hadn’t hurt her.

She gave him a sleepy smile. That had been absolutely amazing. All she could do was lay there bonelessly as she felt him tut and run his hands over her flesh. She giggled as he lifted her into his arms, intent on showering to clean up.

“What, brat?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow down at his love.

“I really love your blood lust, Levi.”

#captain levi #levi ackerman #snk levi #levi aot #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman modern au #levi modern au #vampire levi #vampire au

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mrneighbourlove · 5 years ago

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Evil’s Bane: Ch 12. End to One Evil...

'To the family and friends of Leere,

I am writing this letter to inform you of her recent battle in the country of Malus. While she was warned several times not to go, the princess sought to help free the innocents trapped there from their torment. Doing so, Leere has lost her magic and is trapped between the world of the living and the dead. She will remain in this state until her spirit is free of her inner turmoil. We have tried what we can to help her, but now, Leere's fate lies in the hands of the deities. We know not when she will wake or if she ever will. All we can do now, is pray for her soul. We will watch over her until Bonegrinder is healed enough to bring her home. I suggest you prepare a safekeeping for her.

I will mourn her with you.

Kasdeya, the Mother of the Monsters'

Leere, the woman who poured her heart and soul into vanquishing evil that tormented the innocent, was deep into her coma. Her breath barely moved her chest as she slept deep next to Bonegrinder. In fact, it looked like she wasn’t breathing at all.

"Modoc... it has been nearly two months." Mother knew the host of Prama was grieving. He felt responsible, like he did not do enough to stop the princess from going to Malus. The guilt and sorrow was impacting his ability to heal. "You will have to take Leere back at some point."

"... he saw this as a potential future for tiny princess..."

"I know, Modoc, but even you cannot stop fate's grand design."

"What grand design? Why does she deserve to suffer?!" Bonegrinder slammed a fist on the ground, growling. "All those years ago, Prama told me if this snake devoured her, that there would be less troubles... but he could not do that to a child! A child is innocent! She was innocent and yet refused to believe it!"

Leere once more laid motionless, a sleeping beauty to some. Perhaps a living corpse in the eyes of others.

"Leere will be returned to her family home." Mother informed Bonegrinder. "Her family is in the process of securing her old room from when she was a child. Enchantments will ensure her safety and only a select few will be allowed to visit her."

"... when will they take her?"

"Today." Mother had placed Leere's body inside a crystalline case. The stone was radiating magic and levitating off the ground. This made transportation easier. "I will give you some time to say your goodbyes. Once you are healed, I suggest you go talk to Joy and Sunny. They will need to hear it directly from you why Leere went on this hopeless quest."

"... he will do as you say."

As Mother left to give him privacy with Leere, Bonegrinder looked down at her sleeping body. She did appear dead, but in reality, the princess was trapped in her slumber. The Anagari felt a mixture of emotions. He was angry, upset, and truly bitter. He wondered if she could hear him... or if his words would even reach her.

"... why... did you not listen to this snake?" Bonegrinder's voice was low at first. "He warned you, tiny princess, he warned you against this mission. He foresaw what was a possibility... which is now a reality." In a fit of anger, Bonegrinder slammed his fist into a wall. "Why are you so foolish?! So unbelievably stupid?! Putting yourself in danger for the greater good will do no one any good if you're not here to help Luimaya! Why didn't you give him a chance to save you?! Why wouldn't you let him save you?! Do you think you're worthless?! Expendable?!" The Anagari was shouting now. "Or is it that you just revel in torturing him?! Did you not know that he was supposed to fucking eat you?! All those years ago in the catacombs, he had the chance to rid the world of a piece of that Tzitzimine once and for all, but he couldn't do it! Bonegrinder could not do it! Modoc refused to do it! Prama warned him of what would come if he didn't, but you. Are. Innocent!!! Why didn't you believe him?!" Breathing heavily, the Anagari then had fresh tears rolling from his eyes. "Why couldn't he save just one? One poor, victim of this Chaos... one of his family. Is he destined to lose more? You should be the one striving to live, Leere... he should be the one to die. He has lived countless lifetimes over because of Prama..." He took a shaky breath, and then asked, brokenhearted, "You never listened to him... why couldn't you just listen? Joy and Sunny, everyone... they miss you..."

The silence was deafening. A part of him must have known that, without Leere, Destroyer wouldn’t have been revealed to the world so early, and Tyrannin, the Demon of Teufel linked to her destiny, could not have been defeated.

"... he doesn't know if or when you will wake. He sincerely hopes you do for your family's sake.. He will keep true to Mother's request and see your wife and daughter, but..." Bonegrinder then added with a hint of bitterness. "But do not come asking him for help once you discover you have no magic left to spend. He tried to help you, warn you, pull you away from the situation so it would never come to be... and you did not listen. Why would you listen when you wake?"

It was then Blue and White arrived to take Leere to Hyrule. The sisters looked so sad and worried. "Bonegrinder? Will you be all right?" White asked him.

"Those wounds are horrendous. Do you need some of our energy?" Blue inquired with a frown.

"He will heal, his beautiful girls, but he will require more time." Bonegrinder then instructed.

"Take Leere straight to her secured area. Do not stop for anyone or anything."

"We won't, Bonegrinder."

With a final look, he watched as they took the glass coffin out with them. ~ Back at the castle, Sunny was shaking. She knew that Leere would be arriving today. She knew that she was in a... coma of some kind. She even did her best to explain the situation to her daughter. But she was still terrified to see the state of her wife in person. With Leere’s siblings, she was on the edge of a breakdown. “Is there a draft in here? It’s too cold... we can’t have Leere be cold when she arrives.”

Sunny looked incredibly worn down. The last couple months took a mental wear on her.

"That's my fault, I'm sorry." Zarazu apologized to Sunny. "I... the area gets cold when I'm upset or angry. It will disappear once I leave."

"You know after we see her, Leere will have to stay in this room for her own safety." Covarog was trying to be strong for his family and Leere's daughter and wife. "You may visit her anytime you like, though to protect her, she will have to stay here."

“Thank you, your majesties.” Sunny squeezed her hat close in her hands. “Is this lifestyle common with your family? I hear so many stories of you all taking bold, but dangerous journeys.”

"We have taken many perilous trips, true, but... we never willingly want to place ourselves in danger." Orana held tight to Corsaire. "We knew our capabilities."

"And at least we knew our chances beforehand." Ralnor was very solemn with Cass at his side. "Leere was by far the most reckless... but also the one who tried to keep us together when we were butting heads."

"She could drink us under the table." Tebanam chuckled lightly. "And always gave us a hard time about being giants when she was small."

"She loved her music too." Kanisa remarked. "And dancing."

Sunny was glad Joy was with Luimaya and the other kids, because she started to break down. Slowly, tears came down her face. “When those things were a rising from the dead, I was so scared. But... I heard her voice when they all came to an end ya? That was her wasn’t it. She saved us, didn’t she?”

"... I don't know." Covarog admitted. "Maybe it was her. Maybe it was a spirit. Either way, we knew she was fighting whatever demons lurked within her or around her."

"... I never knew that's why she wished to go to Malus or I would have tried to stop her." Ralnor admitted. "She's always too keen to solve problems on her own."

"We all would have tried to stop her."

“She said she had to stop something bad from wanting to hurt us all. I hope she succeeded, but...” Sunny wiped her tears, sniffling badly and in need of a tissue. “I just want to hold her again.”

"She's here..." Blue and White carefully eased Leere's container through the portal.

Seeing Leere in the glass, Sunny freaked. “Leere!? LEERE!?!” Throwing herself at the glass, she was indeed overly shocked to see her like this. “Why is she like this?! Let her out!”

"It's to protect her." Blue explained to Sunny gently. She knew that the woman was still a touch nervous around her sister, White, due to the bad experiences with spiders. "We can't let her out. It will only open when... she wakes up."

“No! You can’t do that! How can I hold her hand like this? How can I even think of showing Joy her mother being in this state? She looks like a corpse stuck in here!”

"We had to make sure she'd be protected and this was the only way that we could think of." White tried her best to assure Sunny. "No one will be able to hurt her. It's enchanted stone all the way from Omisha. Mother had it constructed just for Leere."

"I'm sorry, Sunny, but I'm sure that Joy will understand." Blue wanted to make Sunny feel better as well, but was not sure how to do it. So she took a gentle approach. "There are still forces out there that will look for her. This way, Leere won't be hurt."

“No.... no gods why. Why did it have to be like this?” Little energy on her, Sunny leaned on Leere’s casket and cried her heart out, muffling the sound by burying her face.

Bonegrinder had to stay in Omisha for another three months before he was fully healed. It was almost half a year now since he had seen Hyrule. There were new scars and an endless sense of guilt etched into the Anagari. Once Mother gave permission for him to leave, he decided the first stop was going to be to Sunny and Joy. He knew not of how they would receive him. Yet, Bonegrinder was simply going to offer his apology... then leave.

Sunny was trying to keep busy with her job at the ranch. It helped, in a way. Leere still hadn’t waken up.

It was best to visit when night cloaked the sky. Bonegrinder waited close until dinner time. His usual approach was to just slither under the house and come up through the floor. Leere hated it when he did that, and he did so on purpose to annoy her. But... now it was just Sunny and Joy. Sighing heavily, the Anagari decided to get this part over with as quickly as he could. Leere's family deserved answers to the questions they had. Gently, he knocked on the door.

Joy, ran to the door, excited by someone coming at this time of night. “Mom!?” Her excitement died the moment she saw Bonegrinder. “Oh...”

"... he... this snake knows you and sunshine are... he knows you might not want to see him but..." Bonegrinder groaned, sliding a hand down his face. "This was much easier in his head." He took a small breath. "If you will allow him... he has come to apologize and answer your questions..."

“Momma! The Snakeman is here!”

Sunny heard her daughter shout for her. Bonegrinder? At this time of night? Sighing, she put down her local paper and went to the door. “Mister Bonegrinder. What brings you here?”

"To apologize to you and your daughter... and to answer to the best of his ability any questions you pose to him." Bonegrinder had to bend down to greet Sunny, his horns almost scraping the top of the porch.

“For what?” Sunny seemed genuinely surprised.

"He was... there with Leere when..." Bonegrinder paused, closing his eyes and trying to keep his voice steady. "When she... was left to the state she is in now."

Sunny nodded, crossing her arms. “Was she right about the danger? And wanting to save lives?”

"Yes, she was right about the danger. Yes, he warned her. No, she did not listen." Bonegrinder felt a flicker of anger at Leere not heeding his words again, but pushed it aside to focus on Joy and Sunny. "And... as far as lives saved... after that blast, this snake would be surprised if anyone was left..."

“Did she try to save people?”

"She did. She was... unsuccessful."

“Did you?”

"... no." Bonegrinder had no reason to lie. "He tried to save Leere and saved one of his children... that is all."

“You didn’t even try to help those people? That’s what Leere wanted, that’s what she fought for.”

"A long time ago, he did help them and it cost him dearly." Bonegrinder told Sunny, still having disdain for the Mortuus who hurt his homeland all that time ago. "Leere did not tell him that she wished to stay there to help people. She merely requested we travel there to see if we could find them. Honestly, he was surprised that there were some there that were sane after the horrors experienced in that land. Even so... friend or foe is not a question in Malus. There, one must be cautious of everyone. You can never tell who is two-faced, who is friend, and who is foe."

“I reckon she asked you to save any of those sane people. It’s in her nature. Wanting to help people like that. I also reckon that you choose not to.”

"Leere wanted Bonegrinder to create a portal to take the Mortuus into his homeland like he did long ago. He refused. He will not, shall not, nor ever again expose his people to death." Bonegrinder was tired of hearing this. He would not be held accountable for another mass slaughter like all those centuries ago. "It would have been useless anyway as he tried to tell her. Mother would have sent them right back. Or worse, she would have had her children devour them before any black magic could have been used against us."

“Then you could have sent them here! I can’t believe you didn’t consider that option in your noggin.”

Bonegrinder gave her a hard look. "Do you think that he would take a chance on endangering you or the little one?"

“We’re a country of diversity. It’s what Leere nearly died to protect. I thought you’d honour that.”

"A country of living people who know not of the horrors of Malus." Bonegrinder corrected her. "And not of this one's kind existence either. He will not apologize for this action. The risks outweighed any other reason you can produce." He then said, "Leere made a deal behind Bonegrinder's back and tricked him into taking her there. Do you not understand the guilt he feels for her state? Many times, he tried to force her, for her own safety, to leave and she ran from him. He tried so hard to protect her... yet, she insisted on fighting for a land that has long since been lost."

“Well, I think she’s a hero for what she tried to do.” Sunny gave him a sad look. “I think she’d have appreciated a friend who believed in the world as much as she did.”

"Leere has seen little of the world, sunshine. Bonegrinder has seen too much to have faith in it entirely." The Anagari told the ranch woman with a frown. "The Lorleidian queen once said that she did not understand why humans hated each other, or monsters, or anything different from themselves. That her old home was a paradise devoid of such ways, because they treasured each other. He wonders, sunshine... he wonders if perhaps one day the world will return to focusing on love instead of power."

“Then maybe you should have helped Leere in her part.” Sunny sighed looking to Joy. “I’m going to see Leere tomorrow. I need to go to bed to get some shut eye. You should too.”

Bonegrinder's tail flicked in anger at that statement. Was the sunshine blaming him for Leere's state? He tried so hard to save her. It was not like he laid on the dirt and did nothing!

"This snake did try to help her and look where that foolishness got her." He stated bitterly. "He warned her not to go. Even you have the common sense of knowing the difference between danger and compassionate pursuit."

“Well, that’s how our Leere is, ain’t she. I’m choosing the look at the good that comes out of this. The heartbreak aside...” Sunny sighed, reigning in her emotions. “Heartbreak aside, I want to believe that her sacrifice means something Mr. Bonegrinder. I’m looking forward to seeing her awake.”

"... you do know there is a chance that when she does wake..." Bonegrinder did not want to rain on Sunny's parade, but he had to be honest with Leere's wife. He took a small breath and stated. "It could be years from now. It could be tomorrow. We are not sure. Though when she does wake, she will be without magic."

“I’ll be here when she does. And... who needs magic anyways, eh?”

"Just be prepared. The Leere you knew before may very well be different. The loss of magic affects each creature of this world differently."

Sunny didn’t need to bear that thought. “Good night, Mr. Bonegrinder. May you rest well.”

Dhakk had already made up his mind that his brother was going to have a very slow death as he finally emerged from the rubble. He would rip Prama's soul into pieces before devouring them, wiping him from existence. The Destroyer god had been surprised that his brother allowed his host to use his personal celestial magic. Did he not consider the consequences of letting that snake use such power? The Anagari could have been ripped to shreds. Though, Destroyer was sure that he noticed some rips in the Anagari's body. Soon enough, that mortal flesh would not be able to heal and Prama would be left without a host. Already, his brother was pushing the limits.

The Tower of Death, the surrounding village, and territory was reduced to blood and brick in complete rubble. Having collapsed right on top of Dhakk, it took time for him to dig his way out. When he finally reached the surface, he could even have the joy of sunlight, as a figure stood over him, their shadow cast on them.

With an ancient mask on their face, a long purple braid down their back, with kings’ cloths, Teufel looked down at Dhakk with his devilish eyes that burned into souls. “Rise Dhakk.”

"I do apologize about your tower. I had no clue that my brother was able to tap into his power. It's risky for him to do so." Dhakk managed to stand, brushing dirt and dust from his Drakkan body. "All those eons ago, I dealt him such a blow... to think he's not at full capability after all this time definitely gives me satisfaction." He then had a very wicked grin on his face. "Though when he did his power, he was not focused. I was able to peer into his mind."

“Good... And where’s my missing piece? Did your brother kill the girl before she could release it?”

"No, it was released... though Leere managed to subdue the demon which escaped from her." Dhakk frowned. "She seems to have died from it."

“Subdue? If she simply subdued it then...” Teufel looked around, taking in the air. “She killed it... impossible.” With a demanding finger, Teufel causally pointed it at Destroyer. “You were supposed to make sure it reached maturity. I can feel that it almost succeeded...”

"I tortured the woman, and had to contain my brother at the same time. While I am a god of destruction, even I can only do so much, trapped in this body." Dhakk dryly gestured to the Drakkan's flesh. "The Wraith was able to surprise me when I was close to decapitating my brother's host. Though, do you wish to hear the good part of this loss or not?"

“You may.”

"When I peered into my brother's mind, I finally found the host of Kaksa... if such a prophecy be true."

A fire in Teufel’s eyes flickered. “The world has been plunged into fear, and with the Shadow Sage destroyed they have lost an unreplaceable piece of hope for survival. We can use this to our advantage going forward. Now. Who is she?”

"The daughter of the demon pig's spawn and the elemental witch... I believed from Prama's memories of seeing her from inside the castle's wall, her name is... Luimaya."

________________________________________________________________

Go back and read the first letter to every chapter. ;)

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626632248299536384/evils-bane-ch-11-rage-against-the-dying-of-the

#Crossover #Final Chapter #Leere #Leere Dragmire #ridersoftheapocalypse #Bonegrinder #Dhakk #Malus #Teufel

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theclaravoyant · 5 years ago

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an addition to the family (david x patrick, schitt’s creek)

AN ~ I don't know exactly how this happened, but I have 2000 words of David x Patrick pro-pet adoption holiday season fluff with a healthy sider of David & Stevie friendship and 'delightfully half-half' Xtn/Jewish David, and I couldn't help but share it. Enjoy! and support your local pet shelters this holidays.

Rated T just in case. fluff. contains mentions of both Christmas and Hanukkah

Read on AO3 (~2100 words)

an addition to the family

After a snooty dachshund rejected his advances, David turned back to his stand and tried his best not to pull a face as he straightened a row of collars. He’d never really got dogs. There just seemed to be something about them he couldn’t vibe with; not even the neat, posh ones. But he could respect that other people liked them – and he certainly appreciated those who aspired to give their pets the best. His pleasure at the very popular reception of their hand-made organic dog treats was very much genuine… even if he wasn’t too keen on giving out the samples himself.

Patrick, on the other hand, was living up to his reputation with the local youths; kneeling in muddy snow at the adoption drive, helping kids get up the courage to pat his charges, which were on the larger side of the doggy spectrum. For some unknown reason that David could only boil down to the mysteries of love, it warmed his heart to notice that Patrick’s smile somehow resembled that of the gambolling Retriever-cross he was currently introducing to the nearest family as Buddy.

“Thinking about an addition to the family?” interrupted a familiar voice. Stevie, raising an eyebrow, over the cup of tea she had brought him.

David scoffed, and took the tea. “Ugh. No.”

“Come on,” Stevie cajoled. “I think it would be cute.”

“I think it would be… messy. And loud. And…”

And something shaggy and black and white, maybe a Husky or a Border Collie, was lying on its back while Patrick laughed and rubbed its belly. It pawed the air in delight.

David cleared his throat.

“Besides,” he finished. “We don’t have room for it in the apartment.”

“It doesn’t have to be a dog, you know,” Stevie pointed out. “Me, I’m thinking about getting a lizard. Or maybe a ferret. Like old Felix here.”

She swung her arm around, revealing a mouse-brown ferret with a white bandit mark across its eyes, wrapped around her arm quite contentedly. David yelped.

“Oh, God! Why??” Eye twitching, he reined himself in. They had customers to think of after all – not that most of them didn’t already know of his lack of affinity for animals by now. Most of them found it funnier than he cared for, to be honest. Still, he pulled out of the dive. “Why- why- why is Felix, um, here?”

“Because I wanted to try out these little hats,” Stevie said, plucking a tiny green-and-red elf hat from the table and arranging it on Felix’s head. He sat up, attentive, almost appearing to clap his hands. If he didn’t have such a rat-like face, it almost would have been cute. And dare he say it, David had an idea to make it even cuter.

“… We also have matching scarves.”

Resigned to his fate, and to sacrificing himself for the art, David picked a green one from the selection and pressed the stud so that it sit comfortably around the ferret’s neck. Felix wrapped a tiny hand around his finger in return.

“Aww,” Stevie said. “He likes you.”

“That’s nice,” David replied, withdrawing his finger with a half-hearted glare. He had intended to be sarcastic but actually, it did feel kind of nice - there was a reason after all, he supposed, that humans had domesticated animals for the last few thousand odd years. Why people then proceeded to abandon the little monsters in droves, he would never understand.

(Maybe he would have, not so long ago. But he tried not to think too hard about that.)

Instead, he focused on doing the best he could for the store. He peddled the dog treats, and cat treats, little booties and hats, collars, toys; everything. He encouraged people to take photos, tag them on Instagram, buy gifts for friends, and of course donate to the shelter. A handful of times, Patrick offered to cover, but since that meant David helping out at the shelter drive as his replacement, David declined. Besides, they were doing well, but it wasn’t like things were flying off the shelf. He got plenty of downtime.

Plenty of downtime to think.

Plenty of downtime to think about the apartment, the budget, the hints that Patrick had been dropping. The shop in Prague, whose resident cat Luna had once got him to buy what remained to this day his favourite mug. Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.

(Maybe he was already vision-boarding outdoor sun-boxes and cat runs and reading about something called ‘cat mint’. But he wasn’t going to tell Stevie about that.)

Still, by the time the day’s festivities were winding up, David was in a much more pensive state of mind. He packed up their remaining supplies (there weren’t many; as always, he’d planned well) and wandered over to the shelter’s pens to wait for Patrick. Ted was there, explaining some flea drops to Twyla while Alexis made kissy faces at her friend’s new ginger cat. That, David told himself, is what caused him to wander over to the feline side of the selection.

Most of the pens had been cleared out by this point, and most of what were left were the older cats, the scarred ones, the ugly breeds or sickly-looking ones. David frowned; it was, he supposed, to be expected, but somehow if anything, that made it even more sad. His eyes caught the bright yellow ones of a black cat at the end of the aisle. There were a few of those left, too. This one had a scar on his shoulder, a bit of knotted fur where it was healing, but otherwise he was quite a handsome devil. Even if his gaze was a little too insightful for comfort, it kept David’s attention so thoroughly he didn’t in the slightest notice Ted sneak up.

“Hey, bud. How’s things?”

“Uh, good,” David replied, stammering to keep from jumping near out of his skin. He straightened up from his cat-examination angle, and found that a question seemed poised on his lips.

“I see you’ve meet Maccabee,” Ted pointed out, and bent over himself to greet the cat and pull him out for a cuddle, before turning his attention back to David. “He’s been in rescue for a year this Christmas. It’s sad, really; black cats are already least rescued because of some superstition, and with his scar and FIV on top of that –“

“What’s FIV?”

“It’s… like HIV. For cats.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ted took a deep breath, and sighed it out. “He’s asymptomatic at the moment, but it still means he can’t live with other cats, or go outside where might run into them and get himself into trouble. It’s kinda limiting. Which sucks, ‘cause he’s a sweet little guy now that he’s had his testosterone – you know, permanently lowered - and some people won’t even pet him once they find out.”

Try as he might, Ted couldn’t hold back a little smile at David, who had already offered a knuckle for Maccabee to sniff and couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the little man. It took a solid few seconds for David to notice that Ted had stopped talking, and what he was doing, at which point he dropped his hand and cleared his throat.

“That’s, um. That’s a bummer.”

“It is. Especially because, you know, people can’t get it from cats.”

“Like, not at all? Are you sure?”

Somehow, David’s hand had found Maccabee again, and was scratching absently at the back of his neck. He watched for Ted’s answers closely, apparently unaware of what his fingers were doing.

“Not even if he bit your whole hand off,” Ted swore. “Certainly not if he… I don’t know. Sat in the same room or maybe, rubbed past some clothes…”

Something deep inside David was thinking, as Patrick jogged up the aisle to greet them. He saw who Ted was holding, and pouted.

“Mac’s still here, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ted sighs.

“And David- David, is here?” Patrick didn’t mean to sound so surprised, let alone hopeful, but he had been dropping an awful lot of hints that he was interested in getting a pet. He’d just assumed David hadn’t been picking up on them, or had misinterpreted them as the idea to come here. Either way, it seemed he had a foot in the door, if he trod lightly.

“Can I hold him?” Patrick asked Ted.

“Sure,” Ted agreed, passing him over. “I’ve gotta start crating the others anyway. Just bring him down the front when you’re done.”

As Ted walked away, David frowned.

“I thought you said you were allergic to cats?” he wondered.

“They make meds for that, David,” Patrick assured him, and cooed at Maccabee, letting the cat rub his face into his hand and paw at his shoulder.

“Okay.” David nodded and, more conscious of what he was doing this time, resumed scratching Maccabee between the shoulder blades and around the back of the neck. It seemed his mind had been made up for him – especially as he started to feel the tiny sputtering rumbles of a hesitant purr beneath the coarse black coat.

“Hey, Patrick?” David began again.

“Yes, David.”

“Did you know that Maccabee is the name of the group of Jewish warriors who took back the temple from Antiochus and lit the oil that started Hanukkah?”

Patrick blinked in surprise. “I kinda assumed it was something biblical but no, I didn’t know that.”

“So you didn’t set me up to meet this cat a week out from Hanukkah?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t name him Maccabee?”

“David. I met him this morning.”

“So you haven’t been conspiring for me to get you a furry four-legged friend these last few months.”

“Well…“

“And you didn’t bring Stevie, Ted, and/or Alexis in on this little gambit.”

“I wouldn’t say I brought them in. But yes. I think it would be nice to have a pet! I always had a dog growing up and Rachel had a cat – I miss being around them. And these little guys, they need a home. Mac needs a home, David.”

He lifted Maccabee’s face beside his own, glowing yellow eyes and pleading blue making a point together. Now that David thought about it, maybe they should add some kippot to their holiday hat collection.

“Come on,” Patrick continued. “You said it yourself, it’s basically fate – it’s divine intervention-“

“It’s a fundraiser set up for the sole purpose of helping the shelter adopt out animals,” David corrected. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

But the thought of putting Maccabee back in that sad little cage at this point and walking away was almost too much to bear. The thought of him sitting on the shop counter by Patrick as he worked the books, or batting him away from the menorah and the tinsel, or waking up to him on the end of their little bed – now that, David thought, suddenly felt like it had always been part of this little world he’d envisioned for himself.

And judging by the look on Patrick’s face, Patrick was envisioning something very much the same.

David took a deep breath, pretending to be much more laboured about the decision than he now was; he had a reputation to maintain, after all.

“You promise to clean up his poop?”

“I promise,” Patrick vowed.

“And you promise the allergy thing won’t bug you?”

“Literally got antihistamines in my bag.”

“Then I think we should do it,” David announced. “I think we should bring Maccabee home.”

“Really?” Patrick’s eyes lit up, and he held Maccabee a little tighter to stop from shifting him too much in his excitement. “Great!”

He bounded back up the front of the shelter stands, David following behind with the patient long-suffering smile for once. Ted was waiting at the back of his truck, one last crate awaiting, register and kitty (pun, as always, intended) long since packed away. His smile told David and Patrick he already knew exactly what had transpired, and he handed the spare crate and a manila folder over to David.

“That’s his welcome package – medical records, FIV info, council registration, stuff like that. Take a look, and if you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

“How much-“

Ted shrugged and waved them off.

“All sorted,” he said. “Happy Hanukk-cat, David. Merry Catmas.”

“Thanks,” “Thank you,” David and Patrick replied – and then Patrick added for good measure –

“And a Happy Meow Year.”

They could hear Alexis groan from the front seat of the truck. Ted laughed and joined her, calling as he went –

“Happy Meow Year to you too!”

#david x patrick #david rose x patrick brewer #schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #scfic #clara's fic tag #christmas #hanukkah

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