#except how many times have I reached for my glasses and sent them flying across the room ffs? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

apatheticanvas67482 · 3 years

Text

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

28 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Firefighter.”

Still back on themed stories. Hope you like :) was fun to write.

The road ahead had been long, krill had never experienced something like this before, traveling over ground just for the experience of it all, and though, overhead he could see hundreds of hover cars cutting over the land in straight lines, the roads ahead were clear, almost no traffic.

In a way it was almost sad, though he couldn’t really explain why.

Though none of that was entirely as sad as Adam Vir’s driving. The human may have been able to fly anything with wings or a propeller, but when it came to driving a car, the man was an absolute menace.

Still, krill somehow found he liked the feeling of driving, with the sun shining through the open windows and the wind whipping past his antenna. When the human turned his music up, Krill was sent into a state of half trance leaning against the car door as wind whipped past his face and the land outside drew past in rolling hills of crops, yellow or green under the blue sky above.

He wasn’t even afraid when a rainstorm rolled overhead, and he watched raindrops pelt the windshield, rolling along the side of the car where the wind pushed them. Thunder roared outside, but it was almost comforting.

It was still raining when they pulled into the small hotel, just on the outskirts of the small city. It likely wasn’t part of the same establishment as the distant white buildings, but rather taken over as the city began to expand outward. Many of the houses here were still made of wood, and manufactured after old building codes.

Adam stepped from the car rain quickly darkening his shirt as they hurried towards the old but well-kept building.

A friendly clerk greeted them at the front of the counter smiling.

He glanced down at Krill eyes widening, “Well I’ll be a son of a gun, are you.”

“An alien, well yes my friend, he is.”

The man looked up his eyes still wide, “Wow, I it's a privilege. Never thought I’d see one of you in my lifetime, I tell you that.” The human’s smile was surprisingly pleasant, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see krill, and rill liked that. Happy humans were very pleasant, especially the ones that were excited to see you.

He never knew how to feel around humans. Either they scared him half to death, or they were more than welcoming to the point where he couldn’t imagine being in danger.

The Friendly predator behind the desk gave them a room, only one bed because Krill didn’t sleep.

“Storming pretty hard out there?”

“Yeah, some pretty serious lightning.”

The man nodded, “For sure, we don’t usually get storms this bad around here, but the farmers will be happy. We needed the water.”

Krill was mostly surprised to hear that farmers were still relying on their planets unpredictable weather to water their crops, but he didn’t bother to say anything as the two of them climbed the stairs to the third floor -- well Adam climbed, and he sort of just floated his way upwards.

The room they stepped into was old, but well-kept. There were no bugs, like Adam said there could be, and the rain drumming against the window was a rather peaceful sound. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the occasional flash of lightning cut across the sky, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Adam had been driving all day, so the human took his leave to rest flopping down on the bed and falling asleep almost immediately under the light of the TV.

Krill watched the light box interested in what else he might learn about humans, while his human practiced a little bit of death behind him.

The night wore on, and at some point there was a crack of lightning so bright and loud that it jolted adam from his sleep and krill from his reverie. It went away quickly and both man and alien went back to what they had been doing before. The TV channel stayed on, and slowly turned from nighttime television to reruns of concerts.

Krill hadn’t been expecting the music, and it lulled him into a sort of half trance.

It was only when the power went off did Krill finally awaken.

In the dark, and without a sense of smell he didn’t notice anything was wrong for the first few minutes except for the slowly increasing temperature. Something glowed orange outside the window, and it was only then, when the light broke slightly through in to the room was krill able to see a strange haze that had gathered up around them.

As the orange light outside grew brighter, a distant crackling noise reached him and the room lit up even brighter until he could see the acrid black cloud beginning to build around them.

A strange wailing noise reached him just as he was rushing across the room.

Before he got there Adam awoke coughing violently.

The orange light outside was joined by flashing red and blue.

Adam rolled form the bed and onto his knees on the floor coughing and hacking violently.

“What’s going on!.” Krill yelled

Adam continued to cough pulling his shirt up over his face, “Fire.” He coughed again

“Don’t you have alarms for that!” krill insisted

“Doesn’t matter now.” His coughing grew worse, and he tugged Krill down beside him as he crawled his way towards the window and the flickering orange light. A wall of smoke billowed up above their heads, and it seemed the closer they were to the floor the safer. He reached up to undue the latch on the windowpane, but as soon as the window was open, and they looked down a gout of flame spit up towards them from the second story window. Adam cursed and fell back into the smokey room as fire licked at the edges of the glass.

Krill could feel the radiating heat licking away at his skin.

Still coughing, Adam grabbed Krill again and began crawling towards the door. Reaching it, he threw out a hand against the wooden frame feeling the door with his free hand.

Below them, the floor was growing hot, and Krill could hear the boards creaking.

Adam covered his hand with his shirt and quickly shoved the door open as the two of them spilled out into the hotel hallway. The smoke was thick and dark here, but no fire.

Behind them flames were just beginning to lick at the windowsill and corner of the room.

Acrid black smoke followed them into the hallway.

Adam slammed the door shut coughing and crawling along down the hallway as thick choking clouds billowed over them.

Krill watched in horror as the smoke and failing oxygen slowly choked the human.

Krill survived on carbon, and smoke did nothing much to damage him, though the fire certainly would.

He could breathe just fine for the time being.

As they passed, the human knocked loudly on as any doors as he could unsure if everyone else had awoken when the fire began. They had reached the landing on the second floor now.

A gathering black cloud filtered up the stairwell with a flickering red light and tongues of flame. Krill was scared, sure he was going to die. The human continued to cough and hack violently as he grabbed Krill and dragged him back into the smoke on the second floor.

A few of the doors were open here, testament to the people who had managed to escape though the door right below their room flickered and smoke continued to pour out.

With fire behind them and fire in front of them, Adam stood hand over his nose and mouth, grabbed Krill by the arm and raced forward.

The heat was unbearable and Krill screamed in half pain as they roared past the doorway and though an acrid black cloud. The heat licking at them from the side. They were halfway down the hall when the human tripped and went spilling onto the carpet.

It was impossible to see now, like they had walked into a thick fog from a fog machine.

The human continued to wheeze crawling along the floor with Krill at his back.

They had almost reached the stairs when the human slowed, grew still and collapsed.

Krill panicked.

He couldn’t see, and the roaring of distant fire and the sound of sirens nearly deafened him.

Adam lay unconscious on the smoke stained floor.

Behind him the smoke continued to pour out but it seemed that the fire had died down.

Voices echoed up at him from the stairwell at, what he assumed to be, the end of the hallway.

Somewhere in the smoke, a blinding light, and a massive hulking shape appeared out of the darkness. He wondered vaguely if it was death come to take both of them.

He couldn't hear or barely see anything as the smoke billowed around them, but the figured dropped to its knees as other lights swirled around behind it.

It was humanoid in shape, and as it reached out he could see the five fingered hand covered in a massive glove.

Whatever it was it didn’t seem to want to hurt him, and, floating, he grabbed onto its arm.

Two more figures cut past them through the blackness moving up the hall and stopping at each door.

The bulky figure grabbed adam by the feet, adjusted him so the souls of his feet were on the ground. Then reached out grabbed him by the hand and hauled him upright and over one shoulder.

Adam hung listlessly against the creature’s back as the thing turned and made it’s way back towards the stairs.

Krill was at its back, still holding on, and what he saw was a massive oxygen tank, like the ones he had seen Adam use for diving.

Was this thing human?

They clattered down the stairs moving down as other entities were moving up. A billow of smoke cleared, and he saw one of the figures to be wearing a full gass mask.

He was pretty sure these were humans!

Humans who were walking straight into a burning building! Prepared and on purpose!

They turned the corner form the stairwell, and the hulking figure dragged them through the propped door to their right.

Smoke cleared form Krill’s face and krill could finally see the inky blue sky above them lightened slightly at the horizon by a rising sun.

He could see the creature better now, and to his shock it was most definitely human. A human wearing a thick brown-yellow uniform, helmet, gas mask and breathing apparatus with reflective strips all over their body. The grounds around the were crowded with frightened looking humans, and massive red trucks spouted gouts of water towards the smoking building.

They were dragged forward onto the lawn, and the figure knelt depositing Adam on the ground as others rushed over with an oxygen mask fitted snugly over his face.

“Are you alright?” Someone said, and he turned to find the face of another human as their rescuer turned and back towards the building.

“I, yes, I think so….. I’m a doctor…” he said not sure if he was really thinking straight.

He looked down at Adam, “Is he going to be ok?”

“Yes, he’s going to be fine.”

Krill turned to look back at the building watching in awe as the humans worked to put out the fire. Massive hoses, and some kind of chemical agent that could be thrown in like a grenade to cool the fire.

They walked around in massive flame resistant suits wearing gas masks and oxygen tanks only to plunge into the smoke and return moments later. He saw others being carried out and laid down on the grass, only for them to turn around and do it all over again.

Where any other creature in the universe might have balked from a fire, let it go on, the humans were not interested in allowing this to continue. They raced TOWARDS the fire instead of away from it, carrying unconscious individuals on their backs if they had to, and in their arms if that was needed.

Krill marveled at the sheer bravery, or perhaps, stupidity of these humans.

The flames died down and all that was left was smoke.

Adam was moved from the ground and into the back of an ambulance. Krill watched light spill from upper story windows as the humans searched every room unwilling to leave anyone unaccounted for. Krill learned in the ensuing time that the hotel manager had tried to cut cost and had bribed someone to avoid checking the alarm system.

Krill watched as a few of the strangely dressed figures pulled off their masks and helmets showing sweat and soot covered faces.

Real humans betting the odds against real fires.

Turning back, he saw Adam awake and sitting up. His face was tinged dark grey with the smoke, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was still coughing, but he was conscious. A figure appeared from the chaos.relieved from their mask and helmet.

She stopped by his ambulance, “I’m glad to see you’re awake.” the woman said, smiling past her sweat and soot stained face, her hair short and dark.

Adam looked at her, “Are…. you the one who carried me out?” He wondered

She smiled and nodded.

His eyes widened, “Damn, the whole of my 200 lbs ass.”

She grinned, “Yep all of it.”

They shook hands, “Adam.”

“Sofia, I have to get back to work, but I’m glad to see you’re ok.” She turned and vanished back into the madness.

Adam shook his head.

Krill floated next to him, “Who are these people?”

“Firefighters.”

“Seriously… that’s really what they are called?”

“Yes.”

“And this is how they make a living?”

“Yes.”

“Running into burning buildings pouring buckets of water on stuff and generally putting their lives at risk on a constant basis?”

“Yep that sounds about right.”

Krill stared at the human, he had been being sarcastic for most of that, but sarcasm becomes kind of pointless when your sarcasm is correct. He turned to look at the humans finally putting out the last of the fire.

How strange.

Humans who challenged the flames. One of the most powerful and destructive forces in the universe, and their job was to stop it?

HE shook his head in half amazement half wonder half annoyance.

Humans never stopped, did they.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

740 notes · View notes

echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Run run run....

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Going Dark - Part 1

Chapter 23 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Going Dark - Part 2

John "Soap" MacTavish

London, United Kingdom

Soap never knew that the bloody guy would pull that trick off his sleeve. He's been sick of the same ringing he first experienced when they went out with Francine.

So he did what he could and quickly got up to his feet as soon as he saw Alex attempt to halt the hostage on his tracks. That bastard's going to pay for stomping on Alex like that.

With comms down once again, he had to act fast, stomping down the stairs, never leaving sight of the runner. He could sense someone following him and assumed it's any of Roach, Price or Jack. And it looked like Ghost caught wind of what happened too.

"Oi! Let's flank him!" Soap roared across the empty streets as Ghost and Roach split ways and ran toward their target.

They're not kidding when they said the Shadow Company is at par with the 141, the guy ran like a horse which Soap never expected from his build. He could see Ghost and Roach sprinting from his sides, one wrong turn and he's done for, but he still had one last trick.

He raced to the emergency stairs as his heavy feet clanged against the metal. Soap followed, optimizing the steps on edges to gain on him. Going up the rooftops was his biggest mistake.

"Bollocks, he's still running!" he announced as he felt his ears crackling.

"Well…. st….by…. do….airs.." His earpiece crackled through the static. It's recovering but they're already far off MacMillan's truck where their line connected.

He leaped. Soap almost stopped in his tracks as the runner courageously leapt across the huge gap and rolled on to the next building. He braced himself and continued dashing across the roof and did a mighty leap, his arms circled like he was swimming and he carefully placed his feet to perform a proper land and rolled.

That's going to hurt as soon as the adrenaline fades, but he quickly got up and made use of his remaining burst of energy.

The runner stopped in his tracks as soon as Roach emerged from the opposite fire escape, raising a pistol pointed straight at him as he raised his hand in surrender.

"Nowhere to run now." Roach said, cautiously walking near him. He's aware that his phone is still inside his pocket and that they had no idea when it'll go off again.

He didn't talk, but he looked panicked. He was sweating all over and his face was beyond recognizable. It looked like he's out of options.

"Tell us Where Shepherd is…" Gary pointed the loaded gun on his head, the desperation in Gary's eyes were obvious.

"There's an abandoned plane graveyard near Afghanistan…" he whimpered. His voice was shaky enough to warrant the truth.

"What's he doing there?" Soap added.

"He's trading the blueprints for the I.P. Address… Please that's all I know" he begged and they quickly left the place, walking back to MacMillan's car.

"You got something?" Ghost asked as soon as Roach's feet landed on the dark alley.

"A place. In Afghanistan." Roach answered.

"And he also had the I.P. Address.." Soap added.

"But that's impossible… didn't Samantha already forget about it?" Ghost asked but there was a quiet pause. Their brains almost looked like working together.

"Holy Crap." Roach finally broke the silence.

And from that moment they realized the other reason behind Samantha's memory returning. One way or another, her memories were once again toyed with.

"So how was it?" Price asked the team that ran off to chase the runner.

"We got an address. An abandoned plane yard in Afghanistan." Roach replied. Soap turned to Alex as he sat at the back of the jeep tending to his wound.

"You okay mate?" he asked walking close to his ally, who was wincing in pain.

"The guy's boots are heavy." He chuckled and so did Soap.

"Listen, Alex. We heard that Shepherd has the I P. address, did Samantha tell you anything about remembering it?" Soap asked as the whole team fell silent and turned to the two.

"Not really. What's bothered me is that she remembers everything except after when Shepherd explained his plans to her… Could it be that…" Alex trailed.

"She remembered because they undid their operation on her…" Jack continued. The whole group stood in silence.

Price's phone rang and delivered them with more bad news. It looked like while chasing the runner, Shepherd had caught wind of their activity and had some of London police scour the nearby streets for them.

"Da, It's time to go, my comrades." Nikolai announced as soon as Price relayed the message. Their ride home was compromised.

"Where to?" He asked.

"I know a place." Soap said.

TRAIN STATION

It looked like Soap's hunch was right. None of the people onboard to Scotland mind about the faces of the fugitives flashed on the news recently.

Their day packs had reserved clothes and they opted to change to something more civilian. Soap could smell the fabric conditioner France used to wash his newly bought clothes and couldn't help but miss her. If they weren't on a rush, Soap could've topped up for international calls.

"How long is this trip? 7 hours?" Price asked a civilian with surprised expressions.

"Wow. It's like a plane ride, but I'm still in the same country!" Jack cackled at the idea. He does have a different sense of humor. Just as Alex described him.

The rest of the team took this time to rest, they sat on the emptiest part of the train, away from the people that might recognize them and report their presence.

"I've contacted Samantha. It looks like they're having a small problem over there." Alex said.

"Someone saw one of us fugitives and tried to get inside the house to claim his bounty. At first they just talked him off but he's persistent now. So they decided to fly to our location and regroup there. And Soap, where exactly are we going?" Alex asked. Soap took a careful look around his team and felt nervous about his decision.

"Our old house. In Scotland. It's far off civilization. I think no one would look for us there." he muttered, gaining a nod from Price and Jack. Soap sighed in relief as soon as they thought of it as a good idea. Roach actually felt excited despite having to go there by train for seven hours. He immediately made that decision a few minutes ago without anyone's approval, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, you three… Thanks for chasing that runner while we were out. Go catch some sleep. We'll watch over this train. It's going to be a long trip." Price nudged and Jack nodded. Soap gave a pair of earbuds to Price, the old man immediately looked at him with question.

"What's this? A hearing aid?" Price asked.

"Our runner wore that so it might be the reason he wasn't affected by his own blast." He muttered before crossing his arms.

"Thanks, mate. I'll let someone have a look at this." Price nodded and Jack immediately inserted with a suggestion.

"I know someone near Glasgow. A close friend of mine."

"That's great. He's closer." Price agreed and Soap slowly drifted himself asleep, trying to rest his tired legs all while also trying not to worry about Francine.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND

The never shifting scenery of the road home sent John MacTavish into a little nostalgia trip. The sound of trains screeching across the station reminded him of so many things from the past. The road they're walking along now was the same road he's walked on everyday of his life, and now after a lot of years, he can't believe he's back.

"I don't see anything nearby, are you sure we're not lost Soap?" Roach asked.

"We aren't. The house is just obstructed by the trees. They've grown taller since I last left." he replied enthusiastically. He looked obviously excited to see his home.

As soon as they reached the short curve, a huge cream-painted house greeted them from the distance. He could hear Alex and Roach's collective oohs and aahs every step they took closer.

"When you said old, I was really expecting it to be abandoned." Roach mused.

"It is, actually. My parents are off… somewhere else." he replied leading the way inside the house. The pool was already dirty and most weeds already outgrew the fences.

Soap pushed the huge wooden double door open and was greeted by the same visage of their entrance way back when he was a kid. Same pictures hung on the walls of his adventures as a kid up to the recent photo of his graduation. His mom was always proud of him no matter what, but he couldn't forget the way she looked at him once he chose to enlist to the riskiest job ever.

The rest of the team helped themselves to discovering the inside of the house, looking at photos, sitting on the couches and grabbing a glass of water. Soap quickly gave them a tour of the house and that they're free to pick a guest room of their choice. It was appropriate that they'd feel comfortable after a tough day.

"Nice place you got here, comrade. Why'd you give this all up for a life that's always hanging on the ledge?" Nikolai asked, tapping his shoulder.

"I don't even know." he muttered and Nikolai chuckled, making his way to the living room. The team was quick to adapt to the place. Roach and Ghost already chose their rooms and he assumed they already attempted to recover while the three older men gathered around the television and watched the news. Alex was by the telephone, probably contacting Samantha. He wanted to check on France himself, so he planned to go to his room and make a call.

"The New York attack stopped." Price discussed with Nikolai and Jack, the three began speculating about a lot of things. Soap would love to join in the conversation but he decided to update on Francine first.

His room looked the same as when he left, the same shade of blue wallpaper, the same color sheets that were changed weekly and the same things on top of his bedside drawer.

Dialing her number, which he subconsciously memorized, he immediately placed the receiver on his ear and anxiously waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone, but it still sent shivers across his spine as soon as he heard it.

"Hey. It's me." he replied.

"Angelo?" she asked, her voice almost sounded like she's fighting herself not to laugh.

"It's John."

"I know, silly. Who would mistake you for anyone else with that accent." she retorted.

"Do ya like it?" he teased, making sure he emphasized his Scottish accent well.

"Why'd you call?" She changed the topic. She wasn't budging on his teasing, but he knew she's already blushing on the other side of the line.

"Did Price give you the landing coordinates?" he asked.

"Yeah. Maxine looked it up on the map. It looks like a shady house in the middle of nowhere. Who are you?" she joked.

"Great. I'll see you here. I-" he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. But even with his oozing confidence, he felt like chickening out this time.

"Yeah. We're on our way. Take care out there John." She said and dropped the call. Soap sighed and plopped himself on his bed, deeply sighing at his actions. This girl was making him crazy… and the funny thing is he's all fine with it.

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 3

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

#horrayfic #codmw #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes

29 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 4 years

Note

are you still doing that kiss prompt thingy?? if you are, how's about '50. In Secret kiss' with Micah Bell? ((if youre not then dont worry!)) pleases and thank yous :0)

hECK YEAH (sorry i took ten million years yall aggghhh). i went rlly fluffy with this bc my self indulgence is always at MAX

The shot brushed the bottom of the empty whiskey bottle. It shook from the force, but didn’t fall over or break. Micah had seen the mark it left on the glass, but he didn’t have time to look twice. Another shot rang out, and the glass shattered.

“Well, it looks like that peashooter can get the job done,” He said to Y/N. As he anticipated, she gave him that look, then gestured to the four hares she’d tied to her horse.

“I recall you used mine to get that doe.” Micah inclined his head to the doe strapped on top. He missed the shot on that one - a rarity in itself - and Y/N took his rifle, downing the animal before it could run away. By the way the corners of her lips were twitching, she was remembering that.

It was hard to care about his wounded pride when she almost-smiled, because he knew it was more than anyone got out of her in the two … no, was it three years she’d been with the gang? “That one’s Y/N, she doesn’t say much. Leave her be.” Dutch had said to Micah during his first week. There was an odd protectiveness in the man’s voice, one Micah hadn’t heard given to others, besides maybe Jack and Tilly.

‘Not saying much’ was a great understatement. Y/N never spoke. She didn’t laugh or smile, or furrow her brows or cry. The camp acted as though she wasn’t there, with some exceptions. Tilly would chatter beside her as they did chores, she and Mary-Beth traded books, little Jack would trail after her if Abigail was busy, Hosea would bring her along for this or that job. There seemed to be a divide between those who worked with her silence, and those who were unnerved by it.

Micah didn’t want to admit he was in the latter camp. The first time he finally said something to her, he was drunk, and it came out stupid. Completely stupid. He remembered waiting for the usual reaction: Disgust, maybe a slap, storming off angrily. Some women shrieked when a rat scurried across the floor, some reached for an iron skillet. Y/N only looked at him with those sharp eyes, the shadows of the campfire bouncing off her face.

She walked away, and he breathed out, not realizing how nervous the whole interaction made him. Never in his life had a woman made him shiver like that.

It was sunny now, not a cloud in the sky, and it was hard to believe this sunshined-kissed face was the same one that unnerved him months ago. Y/N took aim, and the next shot sent a glass bottle flying off the rock. She lowered the gun and clapped happily.

Shit. It was so endearing. Micah stood up from where he was sitting - on a goddamned blanket she spread out, because after hunting all morning and afternoon they were both tired, and she wanted to sit with him and rest. Then he suggested the game, and she wanted to play. Who was he to refuse?

Y/N walked up to the bottles and picked up the skinniest one. She walked several feet away and placed it, then ran back. When she pointed at it, Micah squinted.

“What, you gonna shoot that?”

She shook her head and pointed to him.

Micah scoffed. He retrieved his revolver, the right one. “Darlin’, I can do a lot better than that.”

He lifted his gun, put the bottle in his sights, and almost squeezed the trigger. He stopped, although he could already hear the sounds of the glass breaking.

“You try it,” He said suddenly. “With a proper gun, not that old thing.”

Micah was too anxious to look at her, or wait for a refusal. He all but shoved the revolver in her hands. Y/N blinked at it, then held it properly. He watched her fingers curl around it, how easily they fit into place. The gun wasn’t made for her hands, but it looked right. A swell of excitement went up his spine when she touched the barrel and noticed the engraving.

He cleared his throat, coughed a bit and stood behind her. “You shot one of these before, right?”

Y/N turned back to face him, giving him an ‘obviously’ sort of glance. He placed his larger hands around her’s, trying to fight the urge to pull away immediately. It was like her skin was fire, and his chest was hurting. He moved her smaller fingers into a better grip, so the recoil wouldn’t be as hard, and let her lift it to her line of sight.

“It’ll kick,” Micah said. “Every revolver got a different kick.”

Y/N didn’t squirm out of his arms, or look uncomfortable, so he selfishly stayed put. She was concentrating on the shot.

And she took it. She had flinched, but the glass shattered.

He couldn’t hide his grin. His next words spilled out. “Next time there’s a job, I’ll get you a better gun, an’ take you with me.”

Y/N smiled, and he had a sudden sensation of being both punched in the gut and choked out. He stepped away and cleared his throat. Micah felt something tugging at his side, and realized she was putting the revolver back in its holster. He immediately thought of her hands being somewhere else.

To distract himself, he looked at the sky. He was surprised at the late hour, and pulled out his pocketwatch to confirm it. Had they really spent most of the day in this forest? The discomfort growing in his gut was getting worse, and in an attempt to control it, Micah almost offered that they ride Baylock together. To his disappointment, Y/N had already swung up on her horse. He comforted himself with the fact she probably wouldn’t have agreed, anyway. It was a sheer dumb miracle she’d gone along with the hunting and shooting, given how she normally was.

“You better not be bothering that girl, Mr. Bell,” He could hear Grimshaw’s voice echoing off in his head. It was the first or second week he arrived, and her voice was low and dangerous. He’d just been looking at Y/N, and the old bitch was on him at once. “She’s don’t need the likes of you distracting her.”

He had a few choice words for the woman now, but Y/N clicked her tongue to get his attention. She was waiting on him, probably wondering what he was spacing out for. On the ride back, he wondered what Grimshaw, or anyone, would say if they noticed them coming back together.

No one said anything. It was still early in the evening, and there wasn’t much of the gang around. Micah could’ve split off and left to town if he wanted; he almost never came back this early. To his dismay, Y/N returned to that passive face he’d seen so many times before. He felt like something had slipped out of his grasp.

He could at least help her dismount, even if she didn’t need it. It felt stupid to offer his hand, like he was some goddamned storybook prince, but she took it. He relished that brief contact as he helped her down, wondering when it’d come again… if it ever would. This day seemed like one of those that was too good to be true.

“You come get me if ya need help, with the uh, the huntin’,” Micah mumbled. The words sounded stupid again, but they were far better than the first ones he said to her. “Or shootin’. Ya got a good eye.”

Y/N didn’t let go. She looked at him with those big eyes, now not so passive, and the old gunman had to will himself not to look away. He couldn’t, feeling rooted to the ground with both her gaze and her touch.

Then she kissed him. It was on the cheek, but he froze. From how close she was, he could smell the forest, the dirt, the gunpowder.

“Sure.”

He could have missed it with how his heart was beating, how the horses around them nickered and the distant gramophone crooned. She squeezed his fingers and smiled. The sun had set now, but she was so, so bright.

Y/N turned away and led her horse to Pearson’s wagon. That simple word ran across his mind at least a dozen times by the time she was too far away to call to without drawing attention, and then Mary-Beth ran up to her, and then Charles offered to help with the doe. She nodded and gestured and pointed, the language she used with everyone.

Micah wondered if they’d heard anything she said, if she ever shared that smile. Something told him - something hoped - that wasn’t the case. He watched her until that gut-punching and throat-squeezing became too much, and he swung up on Baylock to head to town. Maybe come morning, he’d find a gun, a smaller one with not much recoil. Maybe he’d hear more words after that.

#yes im actually doing things big shock lmao #i wont apologize for this #micah bell x reader #rdr2 x reader #kiss prompts #libra minis

96 notes · View notes

sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years

Text

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 1

Thomas Shelby X Reader

2478 words

Summary: As Thomas Shelby enacts his plans to expand the Peaky Blinders, memories of Somme haunt him. A name he’s never spoken. A story he’s never told. A promise never kept. In desperation he tells a story, but stories only seem to haunt him.

By: @adventuresintooblivion

“I’m assuming you know who I am, Father.” The musty air of a church filters through the screens of a confession box. The air was heavy as if it waited with bated breath for what he might say. Ancient leather creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight, waiting for the reply of an old man who had no obligation to serve him. The change of pace was nice.

A chuckle filtered through from the neighboring box. “Thomas Shelby, I know who you are. I’ve been waiting for you all day, even cleared out my schedule for you.”

Thomas glanced towards the voice, even though they couldn’t see each other, “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not.”

“It’s only once a year when I get to hear from you. It’s damn near becoming a holiday. Even though you don’t usually talk much.”

The gang leader let out a deep breath. “It’s because most of the time I don’t know what to say. But this time I think...I might have a story for you.”

The reverend’s voice was unsteady as he replied, “I can’t wait to hear it, my son.”

“Don’t get me started on fathers. No, today is the story about a girl who joined the army. And before you ask, no, she wasn’t a nurse.”

“She fought?”

Thomas nodded. His fingers twitched to reach from a cigarette. Something to fidget with that would keep him in the box long enough to get this damn weight off his chest.

“She died with a gun in her hand at the Battle of Somme. I held her guts as her blood turned dirt to mud. I…” His voice gave out. Can I even say the words?

The reverend's voice startled him, “Was she a part of your company?”

Thomas cleared his throat. “Yes. She’d um...She’d disguised herself as a man and joined. Her brothers were sent to the warfront and she followed.”

For the next couple of hours Thomas spoke. Each word felt as if it were torn from him. This tale had become the foundation of which he’d built his walls and now he laid it at a strangers feet brick by brick. Only the occasional gasps from the box beside him signaled that anyone was listening.

“This woman sounds quite extraordinary.”

“Yeah. Yeah she was.” Thomas took a deep breath as he summoned every fiber of courage to continue, “I asked her to marry me.”

A long pause filled the air between them. Thomas’ skin began to crawl as if all the statues that adorned the church were now peering into his soul. He wasn’t a man of God, at least not anymore. He mainly did this to satisfy his Aunt Pol; however, there were times that he couldn’t ignore the feeling of another presence in his life. Whether it was God, Fate or magic he really didn’t know, nor did he care.

Most of the time. Now he was baring his soul in front of a man who’d claimed to know the ultimate difference between right and wrong, led by some divine being. Thomas didn’t regret much in life. He couldn’t change the past, and he had his plate full with the present. This one moment, along with a handful of others, had scared something inside him. Did he even want to heal?

“Well now, Mr. Shelby, while I’d be honored to perform your nuptials , I cannot in good grace marry you to a corpse.”

Thomas couldn’t stop the wry smile. “I’m not asking you to, Father. I just needed to tell someone.”

He asked, “Is today the anniversary of when she died?”

Thomas didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Instead the reverend continued, “Would you have actually done it?”

“Done what?”

“Marry her.”

“In an instant.” Thomas blinked. He’d spent all these years being unsure of his own intentions that fateful day. But the words had sprung forth from somewhere deep inside him bursting from a locked box where he’d kept them safe for so many years.

The reverend gave a soft chuckle, “If you want forgiveness I would suggest-”

Thomas interrupted him as he finally reached for his cigarette, “Oh, I don’t want forgiveness Father. Never have, never will.”

“Then what was the point of this?” the reverend stammered.

Thomas’s voice came out in a low growl, “In case I die tonight, she deserves to be remembered by someone. Might as well be a holy man.” His voice fading into the night as he left to go face his demons.

〜

Grace’s hand slipped against the slick glass she’d been cleaning causing the glass to go flying and shatter against the wall. She silently thanked her lucky stars that Harry was out, but it wouldn’t be long before the missing glass was noticed. She reached for the broom to clean the damned mess when a knock came from the door.

“One moment!” She hurriedly swept up the worst offenders before rushing to the door.

There waiting for her was the only man who dared knock on the door before open, Thomas Shelby. He took off his hat the moment he came inside and nodded toward her

Thomas shuffled toward the bar looking for another bottle of whiskey when his foot came down on the rest of the glass Grace had forgotten about. He glanced down, making sure what he heard was in fact glass before casting a tired glance at the new barmaid.

“Trying to kill me already, Ms. Burgess?”

Grace’s heart leapt into her throat making it hard to speak as she rushed over to finish what she’d started, “I...I’m so sorry. I got distracted”

She swept up the remainder of the glass in a frenzy with Thomas standing all too close. So close in fact she could smell his soap beneath the stale cigarette smoke that clung to just about everyone in Birmingham. Once she was done she was grateful for the excuse to put some sort of distance between them.

In the mirror behind the bar she could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye. Something about the way he stood blended together the stalking of a predator and a tired man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Thomas’ voice easily filled the entire space leaving little room for Grace to breathe, “Do you know what I do to women who try to kill me?”

Grace steeled herself. If she showed him any weakness he’d walk all over her, just like he did with everyone else. So she spun around in a huff, her arms folded across her chest.

She raised her chin in defiance, “What do you do Mr. Shelby?”

“I take them dancing.”

Grace blinked slowly trying to wrap her mind around the words she just heard, “Dancing?”

Thomas nodded, closing the distance between them, “Yes. I might even be so inclined to let the lady choose where to go. It seems fair to level the playing field.”

Grace looked around as if the wood itself could tell her if he was joking. There was no smile, no tilt of the head or anything else to break the tension. Is he actually serious?

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t have a dress.”

Thomas let his eyes roam over her. Even he had to admit that Grace had a beauty about her that you didn’t see that often. Yet the thing about her that always drew him closer was her defiance. Not many people told him ‘no’.

He took out his wallet and started counting, “How much does a nice dress cost these days?”

“Are you serious?”

Thomas froze.

Dust assaulted his lungs as bombs threw rock into the air. Heat from a much smaller body curled against him gasping raggedly from breath as her brow furrowed, “Are you serious?”

“Meet me here in five days in your dress. Have a place picked out. “ He practically threw the money at Grace, probably too much. He spun on his heels stalking for the exit. She cried out after him but he didn’t stop.

He needed air. Alcohol buzzed in his veins. It dulled his senses, made the world around him less real but his attempts to bury the memories only made them stronger. Thomas glared at the world around him. Her laughter danced on the wind. A song he’d long forgotten the words to thrummed in his soul. Some tune that they screamed the words to in defiance of all that the Germans had done.

Today the memories were close. A blanket of fear and sorrow pulled close around his heart. Today was going to be a bad day.

〜

Danny "Whiz-Bang" was a tall man, some might call him gargantuan. A fancy word Y/N had used to scare away some drunk soldiers once. Y/N.

He'd been thinking about her a lot lately. Danny desperately raked the fragmented pieces of his brain. Today was… the day she'd died. A year ago. Or had it been two? He'd have to ask Thomas.

Last time he'd asked about her the look in Thomas's eyes answered all his questions. He'd gotten it wrong again.

Danny began to hum softly. Their song, an anthem really, that they played almost every night until that last battle. Where had he been while his best friend lay dying in the mud? Again the day played through his mind, the details muddled over the years.

He'd been switched with Freddie so instead of fighting with Y/N to distract the enemy, he'd been down in the tunnels digging. The tunnel had stretched for miles by the time they'd finished and began setting the charges. Vibrations gently shook the tunnel, forcing dirt to rain down into his eyes.

Nobody even knew they were there until it was too late. The detonation had destroyed the foundation of three turrets, which allowed the British to take back much of the ground they'd already lost.

Music interrupted his thoughts as the same tune he hummed to himself soon filled the street. A busker on the corner stood tall as he played a violin. Wood gleamed in the dimly lit night as hoards of people shuffled past. Rich brown contrasted brilliantly with the general grey dinge of Birmingham.

Danny couldn't stop the shaking. No one was supposed to know that song except for the 174th yet here it was in his home. He shook his head vigorously, the visions, they must be happening again. Danny began to turn, better he leave for London than have another episode in public. Just as the busker left his sight he heard something he'd never thought he'd hear again.

"Danny? Danny Whiz-Bang is that you?"

He froze. It wasn't real, she was dead.

The music stopped as something tugged on his sleeve. He shouldn't turn around, the ghosts would get him if he did. What would he see this time? A german strangling Thomas? Y/N's head gaping wide open? Or would it be himself?

Whatever was tugging on his arm was insistent. Danny took a deep breath. He couldn't hide forever.

Dirt crunched under his heel as he turned. Smoke left a rancid undertone in the air that filled his lungs. Stone buildings rose into the sky, impossibly tall while still leaning into each other. Roofs sagged under the weight of centuries and rain.

Danny didn't see any of this. The world itself fell away as his eyes landed on a small figure. Her curly mop of hair ended just below his collarbone. Wide tired eyes stared up at him, searching his features for some small hint of recognition. Her clothes weren't that god forsaken uniform or the dress of a lady. Just trousers and coat like any man would wear, fitted to her figure. Her coat was by no means threadbare, but still worn.

"Y/N?"

A smile spread across her lips and it was like watching the sun finally revealing itself after a storm.

Her voice was almost too loud compared to the low buzz of the street, "Hey Danny. It's...it's so nice to see you."

Danny shook his head as he reached up for his cap. Lines appeared on his face, etched deep as he squeezed his eyes shut. The large man hid desperately behind the clump of fabric, praying that he might banish the phantom before he lost control.

“You’re not real. Thomas says that whenever I see you, you’re not real.” His voice shook as he took a careful step back.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, “Do you see me often Danny?”

Finally he opened his eyes with unshed tears glinting in the sun, “Almost everyday. I miss you so much but y...you’re dead.”

Y/N gently reached out and gripped Danny’s hand in hers, “I’m not dead Danny. I was hurt, and they sent me home, but the Reaper hasn’t gotten me yet.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” he demanded.

She looked down, “They found out I was a girl. Kinda hard to hide your tits when you get shot in the stomach.”

Danny slowly lowered his cap, “The MP’s got you?”

Y/N nodded.

Without warning Danny scooped her up into his arms, violin and all, enveloping her in a rib-breaking hug. Y/N threw her arms around him. He buried his head against her shoulder, his body shaking from laughter.

“Alright, alright put me down before you break me.” She grinned, patting his shoulder. He set her down with a practiced grace, muscle memory from years past taking over.

“We have to tell Thomas you’re back. He was talking about you the other day, and he’d love to see you.” Danny practically bounced with excitement.

Y/N felt her cheeks flood with color. She blamed it on the cold wind, “He still talks about me?”

Danny shrugged smiling sheepishly, “Well, not often. I think it hurts him, too, but he mentioned you the other day. Said he was going to tell the Reverend about you.”

Y/N snorted, “Yeah, Thomas Shelby the devout catholic. Anyways where is he? I’ve been in town a week and haven’t seen hide or tale of him.”

“He’s either down at the pub or the races. He’s got…” Danny’s eyes widened. “We have to go now or we won’t catch him.”

“Go wh-”

Y/N was cut off as Danny lifted her off her feet and sprinted down the street. She clutched her violin to her chest for dear life as the streets whizzed by. Miraculously Danny hadn’t forgotten to grab her bag in the other hand.

“I can walk just fine you know!” Y/N screamed from beneath his arm.

Danny flashed her a smile. He didn’t do this because he had to. He did it because he missed doing it everyday in the army.

#peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #shelbys at somme #tommy shelby x reader #tommy #adventuresintooblivion

127 notes · View notes

ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar.

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone.

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work.

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers.

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea.

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues.

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon.

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional.

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him.

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises.

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far.

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him.

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.”

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?”

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.”

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.”

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.”

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?”

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor.

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good.

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.”

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.”

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon.

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself.

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.”

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked.

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you.

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch.

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document.

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done.

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by.

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job…

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing.

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done.

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess.

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available.

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus.

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had.

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow.

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch.

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly.

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride.

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard..

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months.

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now.

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air.

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them.

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him.

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing.

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name.

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.”

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.”

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes…

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.”

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him.

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was.

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal.

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago.

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching.

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all.

#Obey me #obey me smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey me fanfiction #Obey Me!#I just want to give this angel all the love and sex he deserves #11 planned chapters so far #Please enjoy the sin #my writing #obey me simeon

277 notes · View notes

obx-enthusiast · 4 years

Text

Now that I have you ~ JJ Maybank x reader

Requested by: @maybebanks

word count: 2.5k

warnings: fighting, swearing, angst, sad jj

prompt: 6 for angst “don’t you ever do that again”

summary: Y/n’s parents forced her into a realationship with Topper. but what will happen when sparks fly between her and a certain blond?

The life of a kook was always interesting. At least to other people it seemed. Y/n could really care less about the social classes of the outerbanks. She preferred the pouge life. Freedom, not having to uphold reputations, being able to do what ever you want whenever you want. Y/n wanted that. And she found that when her best friend Sarah, started dating John B.

The pouges all loved Y/n. She would go help Kie at the wreck, John B with the HMS when it needed fixing, Pope with school and grocery runs, and JJ whenever he needed help with his dad or just a place to lay his head. But no one knew about her daily adventures with the pouges. Especially not her boyfriend Topper. And the pouges didn’t know about Topper either. She preferred to keep thoes two worlds separate.

Y/n held almost no feelings for Topper. The arrangement was made by both of their parents after him and sarah broke up. She was more drawn to a certain blonde pouge. But Y/n’s parents didn’t really care about her feelings. Saying things like ‘honey, this will bring such good things to our family. don’t you want that?’ her mother would tell her whenever she complained about Topper and his stupid friends.

————

The sky was black with the exception of lighting striking acrosst it. The summer rain was tapping on her roof, but little did she know that tonight was one of thoes nights when JJ needed help.

Y/n’s eyes were quickly taken away from the tv when she heard the sound of light tapping on her window. The tv screen was the only thing lighting up the dark room. She quickly crawled out of bed and made her way to the window. The soft rain drops were sliding down the glass. Her eyes scanned the view when she spotted JJ. She unlatched the lock and pulled opened the window. JJ pulled his arms up and started making his way into the room. Y/n grabbed ahold of his arm to help him steady himself. “I don’t know what to do” the boy whispered under his breath as he glued his eyes to the floor. Sadness was evident in his tone. The easiest way to describe it was that JJ sounded broken.

Y/n sighed as she grabbed the boy and pulled him into a warm embrace. JJ’s arms wrapping around her waist as he stuffed his head into the crook of her neck. Soft sobs shaking through his body. Y/n reached up and put her fingers in his hair. Playing with the soft strands as he let all of his emotions out. “shhhh Jay.” she whispered in his ear. “I’m right here. You’re okay.” Y/n said, now rubbing circles into his back. JJ’s sobs slowly came to an end and he finally looked at her.

“Come on lets go sit down.” Y/n whispered as she led him over to the bed. She sat down with her back against her pillows. JJ crawled over to her and laid his head in her lap and let out a deep breath. Y/n went back to playing with the long strands of hair. “Why didn’t she take me with her?” he let out. His voice breaking as he played with her anklet. “Was I not good enough? Y/n’s heart sunk as she watched the boy she cared for so deeply, question if he is worthy or not.

“oh Jay...” She whispered as he turned his head to face her. “you are one of the kindest, funny, amazing people I have ever met. You don’t deserve any of the stuff that has been handed to you. You deserve the world and I wish you could see your self from my eyes. Then you’d see how wonderful you really are.” She smiled as she brushed his hair off of his forehead. JJ moves so he was now sitting up, listening to every word she had to say, tears forming in his eyes. “Your mom really missed out on getting to know one of the most beautiful souls I have ever met. It’s not on you that she left, it’s on Luke.” She held his face and wiped the tears that were falling from his eyes. JJ nodded his head as she took her hands away from his face and dropped them in her lap.

“Thanks Y/n/n. I really don’t know where i’d be if it wasn’t for you.” he whispered as he looked deep into her eyes. “It’s not a problem Jay. I’m always going to be here for you.” she smiled at him. JJ took in a deep breath before he gently grabbed her face and brought his lips to hers. Shock filled her body but before she knew it she was kissing him back. She brought her hands to the back of his neck as his made their way down to her waist. This was different than any other kiss she’s had. This kiss made her feel weak in the knees and like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. That’s when she remembered Topper.

Y/n brought her hands up to JJs chest and pushed him back before jumping out of her bed. Her eyes widening as her mind ran at a million miles an hour. A puzzled look crossed JJs face and his brows furrowed together. “what’s wrong y/n? i thought you liked me too?” he said as he pushed himself of her bed and made his way to her. Y/n looked at the floor and whispered “I think you need to go..” “wait but Y/n-“ he tried to reason. “I said go JJ!” she shouted and pointed at the door. His eyes widened. She never called him JJ. She always called him Jay.

JJs shoulders slumped and his eyes sunk to the ground as he walked out of the room without another word. Tears brimmed Y/n’s eyes and she let out a shaky breath. She heard the front door close and she finally let out a sob.

She wanted JJ so bad. She wanted to call him hers and she wanted to never have to go on another horrendous date with Topper. She crawled into the bed and grabbed her pillow. The smell of JJ filled her nose and she hugged the pillow tightly wishing it was him in her arms instead.

————

The early morning light shined through Y/n’s window. The girl simply rolled over and groaned. She grabbed her phone and looked at the time.

6:00 am.

Jay🏄🏼‍♂️: 3 new messages, 2 missed calls.

Topper💕🏌🏼: 1 new message.

Y/n yawned and checked JJs texts first.

Jay🏄🏼‍♂️: Y/n I am so sorry I overstepped.

Jay🏄🏼‍♂️: I really thought you felt the same.

Jay🏄🏼‍♂️: Please forgive me?🥺

Y/n: Yeah, I forgive you :)

Sent.

A smile made its way to her face as she read his messages. He really did care about her. Her smile quickly changed to a frown as she checked Toppers message.

Topper💕🏌🏼: Dont forget we have a lunch date today babe.

Y/n: Crap I totally forgot! I made plans with sarah today. Any chance we can make it a dinner?

Topper💕🏌🏼: why are you so unreliable? Do you have any idea how many girls would drop their plans to go on a date with me? But I mean I guess I can switch some things around. So yeah that should be fine.

she now knew what she needed to do.

————

Y/n rolled her eyes and got out of bed. Playing some music before walking over to her closet. She grabbed a yellow bikini, a blue hawaiian shirt and a pair of high waisted shorts. She slipped the clothes on and tied a knot into the front of the shirt. She made her way to her bathroom and did the rest of her morning routine before she headed to the kitchen to grab a protein shake and get on her way.

She walked down the driveway to her coral 1967 beetle. It was her pride and joy. She had restored the whole thing with JJ last summer. It had a surf rack on the roof and ran like she was brand new. She checked the time as she opened the door and crawled in. 8:00 am. She shrugged her shoulders as the engine turned over and she made her way down her driveway to the chateau.

About 10 minutes later she pulled into the dirt driveway of the chateau. A smile spreading across her face at the sight of Sarah and John B curled up in the hammock. “Good morning lovebirds.” She cooed as she approached the two. “Morning y/n/n.” sarah blushed. “So what’s the plan today?” Y/n smiled. “Well we’re going out on the HMS with the rest of the pouges to go swim.” John B turned as he looked at y/n. “Sounds like a plan. When are we leaving?” “We’re picking up Pope and Kie around 9:00 and JJs already inside.” John B stated, pointing at the house.

Blush rose to her face at the mention of JJ. Y/n quickly looked at the ground trying to hide her face. “Well i better go make sure he’s up and give you guys your alone time back.” Y/n awkwardly said. Before they had the chance to respond she was already on her way to his room.

She made her way through the kitchen and livingroom before she was standing outside his door. Y/n opened the door to find a shirtless JJ in sweatpants standing in the middle of the room. “Woah ever heard of knocki-” JJ was quickly cut off when Y/n walked across the room and placed her lips on his. JJs body tensed but he soon relaxed into the kiss. His hands found her waist as she gently tugged at the ends of his hair. His tongue swept against her bottom lip and she gladly let him in. Y/n felt butterflies like she had never felt them before. The kiss was slow and sweet but equally filled with passion and hunger.

Their lips finally broke apart as they rested their foreheads against eachother. Both breathing heavily. “you have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.” JJ smiled at her, just above a whisper. Y/n stepped back to look at his face, his hands now leaving her hips. His hair was messy, his lips were swollen and his pupils were blown wide open.

“I want to be with you Jay. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.” She smiled up at him. “I meannnn I guess it would be pretty nice..” JJ groaned out. Y/n’s jaw dropped as she playfully pushed his shoulder. A smile spread across JJs face and he pulled her by her waist into a hug. “I would love that y/n/n.” he whispered in her ear. “Good. I mean i’m not gonna lie, I have to figure some things out before we can make it official, but I promise it will be done and over with by tonight.” Y/n told him. A look of puzzlement crossed his face but before he could say anything John B’s voice called through the chateau. “Come on guys we’re leaving!” Y/n took that as her chance to escape but JJ quickly called after her. “We’re definitely gonna talk about that later.”

————

The boat ride and swimming went by smoothly until Sarah got stung by a jellyfish. Again. Causing their day in the sun to be cut short as they all made their way back to the chateau. The silence was broke when Y/n’s phone rang.

Topper💕🏌🏼 is calling..

She groaned before she brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” topper asked his tone sounding angry.

“I’m with sarah, why?”

“We’re having a change of plans and i’m coming to get you.”

“No you’re not”

“Yes I am. Now tell me, where are you?”

“I’m at the chateau..” She winced out.

“i’ll be there in 10 minutes.” That was the last thing he said before he hung up. She felt her chest tighten. Worried looks crossed everyone’s faces as they looked at their friend. Sarah being the only one who knew what was going on.

By the time they got to the dock Topper was already there standing by John B’s van. If this was a cartoon there would definitely have been steam coming from his ears. Y/n hesitantly walked towards the angry boy. The rest of the pouges followed her, not too far behind. Everyone was in complete confusion at what she had to do with Topper.

“Damn y/n just when I thought I knew you. Rather than spend time with your boyfriend, you went hanging around some dirty ass pouges!” he shouted as he gestured towards the group. Y/n’s eyes narrowed as she stared down the boy. “it’s better than spending any time with you” she spat at him. Toppers jaw clenched and before she knew she was being pushed up against the van. Toppers arm holding her down by her throat. JJ immediately stepped forward, but John B grabbed his arm and held up a finger. Signaling for him to wait. “Care to say that to me again?” Topper dared her. “I said it’s better than spending any time with you!” she cockily smiled at him. He pressed his arm further into her neck causing Y/n’s face to turn a deep reddish purple. His hand met the side of her face. Y/n’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Now there was no holding JJ back.

JJ sprang forward, ripping Topper off of Y/n. She fell to the ground and gasped for air. Short shallow breaths and coughs were the only thing that could be heard from the girl. JJ and Topper were wresting on the ground. Each one fighting to pin the other. JJ finally got Topper to the ground. All JJ could see was red. He delivered blow after blow to Toppers face. “Don’t you ever!” *punch* “do that!” *punch* “Again!” *punch* JJ yelled in between punches. Y/n gasped as she watched the scene infront of her. “Jay stop!” she hoarsely cried out. He kept punching him. “JJ stop you’re gonna kill him man!” John B yelled. Another blow. Y/n dragged herself off the ground to where the boys were fighting. She put her hand on his back “Jay i’m okay. You can stop now..” she cried.

JJs eyes widened at his bloody fists and Toppers newly rearranged face beneath him. His anger scared him at that moment in time. But he wasn’t finished yet. JJ nodded at Y/n before leaning over and whispering in Toppers ear “If I ever fucking see you near her again, you better fucking run.” JJ said through gritted teeth. Toppers eyes widened and he nodded his head profusely. “Now get out of here.” JJ told him as he pointed in the direction of the road.

Before she knew it JJ wrapped her in a hug and pulled her to him tightly. He rested his chin on the top of her head and her arms went up behind his shoulders. “Jay are you okay?” Y/n looked up at JJ who now had a pretty good cut on the side of his face. He shrugged it off and smiled. “I am now that I have you” he whispered as he leaned in for the kiss.

————

A/N: i really hope you like this I had so much fun writing it! Also this is the car I based hers off of

#jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj x y/n #pope hayward #kiara carrera #john b routledge #sarah cameron #topper

228 notes · View notes

thewidowsghost · 4 years

Text

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 4

3rd Person POV

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers follow Harry from the moment he and Ron left their dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms standing on tip-toe to get a look at him. Harry wishes they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were the doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, Harry thinks, because it all seems to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and (Y/N) and Hermione were sure that the suits of amour would walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist when you were late to class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!" The only person that Peeves seemed to get along with was, strangely, (Y/N). When she would pass by him in the halls, he would ask how her day was going. The first time, (Y/N) was shocked, looking surprised at the poltergeist, then she nodded saying, "Uh, its going pretty well."

Even worse than Peeves, Harry thinks, if that was possible, was the caretaker Argus Filch. Harry and Ron manage to get on the wrong side of him on their first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, he was sure that they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing by.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone – except perhaps the Weasley twins – and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick. Marvel, (Y/n)'s black and white kitten had taken to attacking the dust colored feline whenever she had the chance.

Then, once you manage to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

(Y/N) enjoyed Wednesday nights where they went out to the tallest tower and learned the names of different planets and stars. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class, in (Y/N)'s eyes, was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns hand been very old when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while the students scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Hermione had told (Y/N) that she actually liked the class, and (Y/N) looked down at her.

"Honestly, Hermione," (Y/N) teases, "I'm not surprised."

One of (Y/N)'s favorite classes so far had to be Charms. Professor Flitwick was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight, (Y/N) rolling her eyes.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she tells them. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then, she changes her desk into a pig and back again. They were very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon they realized that they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After they take a lot of complicated notes, they were given a match and told to start turning it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger, and (Y/N) (L/N)-Granger had made any differences to their match. Professor McGonagall shows the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gives the two a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turn out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, hand been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnegan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell goes pink, and starts talking about the weather. For another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards.

There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron, the two had managed to find their way to the Great hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asks Ron as he pours sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron answers. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," says Harry. Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor House, but it didn't stop her from giving them a huge pile of homework the night before.

Just then, the mail arrives. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She would sometimes fly in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she flutters down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and drops a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tears open the letter at once, and it says, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Harry, borrowing Ron's quill, scribbles, Yes, please, see you later on the back fo the note, and sends Hedwig off again.

(Y/n), who was sitting across from Harry and Ron, and between Hermione and Fred Weasley, had just received a letter herself.

Dear (Y/n),

My name is Remus Lupin. You mother named me as you godfather, and I was good friends with both your mother and Harry Potter's parents when I was at Hogwarts.

I left you a box of presents and letter in you Gringotts vault, in a large wooden box. I didn't know if you had picked it up or not, but I decided that it was time that I sent you a letter at school. I hope you're doing well.

Love,

Uncle Remus

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry got the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry – he hated him.

Potions lesson took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call and like Flitwick, he pauses at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he says softly, "Harry Potter, our new – celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle snigger behind their hands. Snape finishes calling the names and looks up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made (Y/N) think of a dark tunnel.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," the Potion Master begins. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence follows this little speech. Harry and Ron exchange looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione and Iliana were on the edges of their seats and Hermione looks desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" says Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glances at Ron, who looks as stumped as he was; Hermione, Iliana, and (Y/N) had all raised their hands.

"I don't know, sir," Harry says.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't anything."

He ignores Hermione and (Y/n)'s hands, his gaze flicking between Harry and (Y/N)'s hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape asks.

Hermione's hand stretched higher into the air, as far as it would go without her leaving her seat and (Y/N) leaves her hand into the air.

Harry didn't have to faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir," Harry answers.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape taunts, (Y/N) frowning slightly.

Harry forces himself to keep looking into Snape's cold, dark eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?"

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's hand, still glancing between Harry and (Y/N).

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape asks, and (Y/N) and Hermione's hands remained in the air, Hermione standing up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon's ceiling.

"I don't know," says Harry quietly. "I think Hermione and (Y/N) know, why don't you try them?"

A few people laugh; Harry catches (Y/n)'s eye, and she winks at him. Snape however was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snaps at Hermione, "(L/N), answer the questions," Snape says, his head snapping to look at (Y/N).

(Y/N) straightens her back, clears her throat. "Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, but they also go by aconite. A bezoar is a stone taken from a goat that will save you from most poisons, and asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so strong that it is called the Draft of Living Death." (Y/N) rattles off, Harry and Ron exchanging shocked looks.

"Correct, ten points to Gryffindor," Snape says to (Y/N), before snapping at the other students, "Well, why aren't you coping that down?" There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, and over the noise, Snape says, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor because of Potter's cheek." At this, (Y/N) turns around from her place in front of Ron, and smiles sympathetically at him.

Things didn't really improve much for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape set the first-years into pairs and set them to mixing a potion to cure boils, sweeping around in his black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush shake fang, criticizing everyone but Malfoy and (Y/N), whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at how well (Y/N) had stewed her horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing fills the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools wile Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moans in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarls Snape, clearing the potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpers as boils start popping up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the Hospital Wing," Snape snaps at Seamus. Then he rounds on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd made you look good if helot it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Harry thinks this is so unfair, he opens his mouth to argue, but Ron kicks him from behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," Ron mutters as (Y/N) turn around to look at him, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As the first years climb the stairs out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racking and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week – why did Snape hate him so much? At least (Y/N) had won those ten points for Gryffindor.

"Cheer up," Ron tells Harry, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?" he asks.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione and I are walking up from the dungeons behind Harry and Ron after the end of Potions Class.

"I noticed something strange," Hermione says.

"What?" I ask.

"Professor Snape seems to like you a lot," Hermione says, looking at me with her brown eyes.

"That was kind of weird," I agree, looking forward, then back at Hermione.

"Maybe he was wondering how you got to be so good at Potions," Hermione suggests. "You were the only one of us with a perfect potion."

"Yeah, that must have been it," I say as we enter the Great Hall.

After lunch, the two of us walk outside to sit by the Black Lake. I see Ron and Harry walking down to Hagrid's Hut, and I hear a faint barking coming from the same direction.

"Hello (Y/n)," comes one, well two, voices.

I look up to see the Weasley twins standing above me and my sister.

"Hey Fred, George," I answer cheerfully.

"Whacha first years doing out here?" Fred asks.

"Well, the first week of school is over," Hermione begins, her frizzy hair blowing in the wind.

"So we're enjoying the last of the summer air," (Y/n) finishes for her sister.

"(Y/n), we have a question for you," George says.

"What?" I ask curiously.

Fred and George look at each other before saying in unison, "Do you like funeral marches.

Hermione bursts into laughter at the question, and Fred and George sit down beside the two of us.

"Well, of course," I say, grinning. "It's my favorite song," I begin to hum a slow funeral march, and the Weasley twins join in, Hermione exchanges a look with me, shrugs, then joins in.

Word Count: 2887 words

Well, I'll see you see on the next chapter.

See y'all!

Love,

Kaitlynn ❤️😍

#hermione granger #hermione granger x sister reader #harry potter various x reader #harry potter #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley

26 notes · View notes

clockworkgraystairs · 4 years

Text

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @aesthetics-11 @hizqueen4life @duarteegreenbriar @mysweetvilllain @judexcardanxgreenbriar @nite0wl29 @althekingshorses @thewickedkings @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @thesirenwashere @b00kworm @acourtofmoonlight @queen-of-glass @random-llama-socks @jurdanhell @cardan-greenbriar-tcp

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 [coming soon]

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation.

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier.

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too.

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted.

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late.

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing.

He called her. No answer. Again.

Had she forgotten?

Impossible, they met there twice a week.

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice?

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students.

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out.

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it.

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her.

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes.

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned. “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then?

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away.

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.”

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head.

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him.

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

Cardan shrugged. “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway.

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!”

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn?

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his.

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it.

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise.

Cardan just drove.

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting.

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over.

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way.

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place.

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him.

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?”

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.”

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.”

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair.

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare.

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen.

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down.

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?”

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks.

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.”

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn’t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too.

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her.

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after.

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.”

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused.

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago.

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him.

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling.

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks.

#i'm so so sorry it took me so long!!#BUT HERE IT IS #honestly i'm not that happy with it #but i'll try to make it better for chapter 3!!!#oh some good stuff coming there #jurdan #jurdan college au #college au #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #holly black #jurdan fanfic #tess writes

272 notes · View notes

firebrands · 4 years

Text

flirting with disaster | stevetony

1.4k, M for gun-related violence (but tbh... this is fluff) | “stony bingo prompt fill: bounty hunter au | on ao3

It’s the third safe house he’s breaking into in a week, so when Steve kicks down the door, he nearly falters with surprise to find the place actually occupied.

Stark is prone on the floor, pale and covering his chest.

“Finally they sent a pretty one to come after me,” he manages to say, before breaking into a hacking cough. “Just my luck,” he adds, his voice rough.

Steve keeps his gun up and crosses the room slowly, his eyes darting from Stark’s face to where his bloody hand is pressed against his flesh. Once he’s close enough, Steve finally does falter when he sees the gaping hole Stark is trying to cover up.

“What in the hell—”

Steve reaches out instinctively to see the damage—no matter how many years of training he has, no matter how much bad he knows Stark has done, it’s still second nature for him to help, rather than hurt.

The move proves to be his undoing. In a flash, Stark pulls out a knife from behind him and pushes it against Steve’s neck, just beneath his Adam's apple. Steve’s hands fly up to his sides, his gun clattering to the floor.

“Don’t,” he says, threatening. He pushes the knife closer, just hard enough that Steve feels the first pinprick of pain.

“Let me help you,” Steve says, frowning down at him.

“And then what? You haul me off to Stane?” Stark barks out a laugh. “It’d be a pity, but I’d kill you first.”

Steve takes a step back, and Stark sinks back on the floor, catching his breath.

Steve holds one hand up. “I’m going to get some bandages from my bag,” he says.

“Don’t.”

“I need you alive.”

“So leave.”

“I can’t do that.”

Stark tilts his head and assesses Steve. “Of all the goons Obidiah’s sent after me, you’re certainly the stupidest.”

Steve opens his mouth to retort, but he feels a pain in his leg, small enough to feel like a dart, and the world goes black.

***

Another night, another safehouse, except Steve’s fears are confirmed and Stane’s sent someone else. After his first failure, he knew better than to hope that Stane would leave him to it.

Steve watches the man enter the warehouse, keeps him in sight through the scope of his rifle. The man stops by a window, inspecting something.

Steve takes a deep breath, and pulls the trigger.

The man crumples to the floor, and Steve doesn’t waste a second locating Stark, who pops his head over some crates to inspect what happened.

Steve’s about to pack up, make a dash down the building to catch Stark before he makes his exit, but Stark’s gaze locks on his. He smirks at Steve, then winks.

Steve’s throat feels tight, and he chalks it up to the strange feeling of being caught. He slings the gun over his shoulder and runs down the stairs. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and by the time he gets to the ground floor, Stark’s car is zooming out of the compound. Steve swears and slams his fist into the doorframe in frustration.

He checks his phone. There’s one message from an unregistered number.

if i didnt know any better id think u were on my side

Steve swears again, flexing his hand before typing a response.

His fault for getting in the way. You’re mine.

Steve stares down at his phone, then adds:

How’d you get this number?

Steve begins walking back to his own car, stopping only when his phone beeps.

u HAVE read my file, right??

Steve decides not to respond--he doesn’t want Stark to think he can just banter with him. After all, Steve still has to fulfill the contract.

***

Steve wakes up with a jolt. He sits up slowly, listening for what could’ve woken him up, but he already has a feeling—someone’s in his apartment. He’s immediately alert and sets aside the irritation of being woken up from a pleasant dream. He’s been having more of those, recently, and while they were mostly pleasurable, Steve still felt a little confused by the dreams--and the man who featured most prominently in them.

Steve slips his gun out from his bedside table, throws open his curtains to give him more light. He can hear the light steps of whoever has broken in, and he’s pretty sure this is his moment of reckoning—a former mark’s family member, someone from Stane’s gang finally tired of waiting and tying up a loose end, hell, it could be Tony Stark himself except Steve’s pretty sure he couldn’t be stealthy if his life depended on it. If it were Stark, he’d probably have just hacked into Steve’s microwave and made it explode.

The doorknob to Steve’s bedroom turns slowly, and Steve takes aim from behind his bed. It’s as fortified a position as any, right now, and he has the advantage.

His breaths are even as the door opens. For a split second, his eyes meet that of his attacker; he was right, it was someone from Stane’s crew, and Steve barely raises his gun and then the window behind him explodes with force. The man’s head tips back, a bullet lodging itself right in between his eyebrows.

Steve dives under his windowpane, looking over the window to see where the shot came from.

On his bed, his phone buzzes. Steve crawls over and takes the call.

“Hello?”

“Guess we’re even.”

“Stark?” Steve shouts into the receiver.

The line goes quiet and Steve looks over the window.

Just across the street, he sees a vague outline of a man holding up a rifle. With his free hand, he waves and throws up a peace sign.

“See you around, darling.”

Steve’s happy for the relative darkness and the distance between them; that way, Stark doesn’t get to see the blush on his cheeks at the use of the pet name.

“Wait—!”

The line goes dead, and Steve slumps against the wall, the adrenaline seeping out of him. He sighs and types out a message.

Thanks. But I’m not going to go easy on you next time I find you

Steve stands up, shakes broken glass off his clothes, and gets to cleaning up.

His phone buzzes with Stark’s response.

ofc not. wheres the fun in that? ;)

***

It’s been months of their cat and mouse game, so when Steve walks into another anonymous, rundown safe house, he’s not surprised to find Stark sitting on a chair by the dining table, a glass of wine half-full in front of him.

“Took you long enough.”

Steve sighs, sets his gun down by the small table just by the door where normal people would leave their keys. He walks towards Stark and sits down on the seat adjacent to him. If he wanted to, he could move his knee a little so it would brush against Stark’s, but he won’t.

Not yet.

“I didn’t know you were waiting.”

Stark smirks and pours Steve a drink.

“So, what now?”

Steve takes a sip.

Under the table, Stark’s knee rests against his.

Steve shrugs in response. The sudden truce between them feels fearless, both of them exuding the strange relief of finally speaking without the threat of violence.

Stane is dead; the contract is worthless. In the time between hearing the news and the drive to the last known location of Stark, Steve had made peace with the fact that Stark could still take his revenge after all the months of chasing and mis-aimed shots, shooting as if only to strike fear. For the first time in his life, he’s glad to be proven wrong.

Steve curls his lips up at the touch and opens his palm on the table.

Stark looks down at it, his own smirk softening before he lays his hand on top of Steve’s.

“You always knew where to find me,” he says. His gaze stays on their hands, their fingers only loosely interlocked.

Steve’s chest tightens. Stark—Tony, is holding his hand. He wants more, but doesn’t know where to begin.

“You were terrible at hiding.” Steve tightens his grip on Tony’s hand, and Tony looks up.

“Maybe I just wanted to be found.”

Steve sucks in a breath, surprised. “Is that so?”

Tony leans closer, and Steve mirrors the movement until they’re only inches apart. He moves his other hand and cups Tony’s cheek.

“Only because it was you that was looking,” Tony admits, looking down at Steve’s lips then back up at him.

Steve huffs out a laugh, then tips his forehead to rest against Tony’s.

“Then I’m glad I found you,” he says.

Tony reaches up, rests his hand on the base of Steve’s skull, and pulls him into a kiss.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel ultimates #bounty hunter au #(SCREAMS) IT TOOK ME 20 MINUTES TO GET THIS TO POST #ANYWAY #things i write #tbh i was surprised by how much i enjoyed writing this one #esp bec i was HIGH KEY dreading it #but YA that's two bingos now!!! yay!

153 notes · View notes

missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, My Love

Hey, everyone! It’s that time of year again and here is my gift that I wish to bestow. Merry Christmas, @lins-hogwarts-mystery I hope I did your MC justice.

A big thank you to @hphmsecretsanta2020 for organizing this again. I will always participate! Without further ado!

Clara Lin loved snow. The white powder of frozen ice crystals always held a special place in her heart since she was little playing in the fields of Oxford. At Hogwarts, Christmas time became that much more special. Even with the underlying horror cursed vaults, there was always time to celebrate the holidays in a merry fashion. This year in particular she and her friends agreed to stay behind and spend time together over the course of winter break.

And what better way to celebrate that than a snowball fight on Christmas Eve?

“I got you! HAHA-” WHAM!

Charlie Weasley’s momentary triumph was silenced by Tulip’s double decker snowball smashing him in the side of the face, causing everyone else to laugh.

Staying behind were also Rowan, Penny, Barnaby, and Tonks who were all participating in the battle of winter circa 1989. Even Merula had skipped out on going home and though she and Clara would never be best friends, the two were amicable enough to have a snowball fight without getting too intense...mostly. They were on different teams after all.

The contest played out within the training grounds, so there wasn’t much cover to be had as far as trees or underbrush but then again magic could make up for lack of natural cover. On one side was something akin to a medieval castle, complete with five foot high walls, a drawbridge, and a flag. The other was a giant circular wall, good for combating attacks from all sides but vulnerable to a possible sir attack. In any case, standing up even for the slightest moment was unwise as Charlie found out first hand.

“She’s got good aim,” he muttered rubbing his cheek while dodging another projectile.

Clara couldn’t help but giggle. Even the person with the best reflexes amongst their Gryffindor brethren could be sniped by the cleverest Ravenclaw.

“Bombs away!” Penny yelled out hucking up a snowball into the cloudy winds of nowhere.

“Best to aim a bit first,” Rowan chided kindly as she adjusted her glasses while gathering more snow in her vicinity for the purpose of more ammunition.

“Merula’s team is eating our lunch,” Charlie lamented. “We need a new strategy.”

“Ooo!! I can help!” squealed out the tiny voice of Clara’s little sister, Emily, otherwise known as ‘Em’. She was five years younger but often associated herself with her big sister’s friends and refused to not be included in the festivities. A first year Hufflepuff, she was eager to help but lacked imagination.

“Keep firing as many snowballs as you can,” Rowan assured her again in an understanding tone that placated the little girl. “I think I have an idea.”

The teams were equally divided- Clara, Charlie, Penny, and Rowan on side while Merula, Tulip, Tonks, and Barnaby were on the other. Em was considered young enough (and insignificant enough to the female Slytherin) that her presence was not decisive enough to affect the outcome. But any competition featuring Merula Snyde guaranteed to be intense. After all a rivalry did not subside just because the two girls had formally agreed to work together in finding the cursed vaults.

“What would that be? Now would actually be a good time,” Clara observed as more snowballs skimmed the top of their fort. Charlie had to chuck a few more of his own to prevent Tonks from getting any closer.

“Simple. We use a freezing charm to turn one of our snowballs into a giant ice ball. I’ll use a propulsion charm to send it forward. With any luck their castle should come crumbling down and victory ours!”

“What the heck? I’m in!” Penny said excitedly over the noise, her rosy cheeks becoming apparent in the winter weather which was fast becoming colder in the later afternoon. Pink contrasted her light blue outfit (she was also the only one still wearing a skirt). Charlie’s Quidditch reflexes served him well but even he couldn’t overcome the odds of beating four other teengers surrounded by a full blown fort.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to use magic. Wouldn’t that be cheating?” Em asked, naive to the fact that no one adhered to that rule during a wizard snowball fight.

“Em, they’re using magic already,” Clara said bluntly, her practical nature coming into play already. She adjusted her glasses (being practically blind without them) and peeked out over the top and sure enough, saw the evidence needed to prove her accusation.

“Merula...I knew it,” she breathed out, frost emanating from her lips. “A banishing charm.”

“So that’s why those snowballs keep coming in so hot,” Rowan said, rubbing a gloved hand underneath her chin.

“And Tonks is using her metamorphagus ability to turn her nose into a trunk!” Charlie added, tossing another snowball back the other way and ducking down. “Bloody, cheater.”

“Then I say we hold nothing back,” Clara suggested.

“Sure that won’t be a problem with Barnaby?” Penny teased.

“He’s six foot three and can eat three turkeys in one setting, he’ll be fine,” the Gryffindor girl responded with a small blush trying to ignore feeling the pang of guilt at the idea of pelting him with snowballs. But there was no time to waste and when it came to December battles amongst the powdery, ice cream hills of Hogwarts all bets were off.

“Let’s do this,” Rowan remarked. Taking out her wand and removing one of her gloves, she summoned one of the snowballs while the rest their magic to summon snow from the ground to steadily grow it to the size of a grapefruit, spinning like the back wheel of a car, glistening in the glowing pink light of the evening sky.

“Now it’s really time for bombs away,” Penny giggled fond of muggle sayings.

“Oh I’d say so,” Rowan grinned mischievously. “Once that thing blows open their fort wall, Clara you and Charlie charge forth and win the battle.”

“What should I do?” little Em asked, still eager to help.

“Just keep throwing snowballs with Penny and Rowan, okay?” Clara ordered. She was quite protective of her sister even in light hearted situations such as these. Besides, despite being the most practical of the group the sixteen year old carried a competitive streak of her own.

“Three...two...one...NOW!”

At Clara’s command, Rowan muttered the necessary incantation and sent the massive ice ball at top speed towards their adversaries. Such was the speed, it had no trouble bursting through their castle with such force that it did exactly as Rowan foretold.

“CHARGE!” Charlie howled above the din as he and Clara rushed forward dodging strikes issued by their opponents, weaving and somersaulting in and out before performing an attack of their own.

“Eat snow! Take this!” Clara laughed as she struck Tulip and then fired another shot at Merula which caught her straight in the face (she never tired of one upping the Slytherin girl). But when wheeling around to do the same to Barnaby she came upon a strange sight. Her boyfriend didn’t seem to have his heart in the friendly competition at all. On the contrary, handsome, chiseled features were flat and carried a degree of melancholy unusual especially on Christmas.

My love, what’s the matter?

But before Clara could drop her snowballs and inquire further, someone beat her to the punch as a powerful burst of white exploded in the face of the burly Slytherin.

“Yes!” Charlie Weasley yelled out triumphantly. But Clara was not out of danger just yet, in her hesitation a projectile just missed the back of her head and only because Barnaby moved her out of the way just in time.

“Merula!” he said crossly. “Come on, don’t cheat.”

“Speak for yourself,” the Slytherin witch said with equal disdain. “We said no magic and yet here we are.”

“You broke the rule first,” Charlie argued.

“Right like you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“Enough,” Clara cut across the cacophony of argument which was reaching a boiling point. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go back inside.”

Her insistence, as well as her leadership qualities over the group won over as the magically flying snowballs ceased and even Merula despite her snarling, gave in to logic though it was apparent from the look on her face she would have continued given the opportunity.

“Fine, Lin,” she said with a shrug that failed to hide its competitiveness.

Whistling over, Clara signaled to Rowan, Penny, and her sister that the fight was over but that was not the end of the drama. Looking back towards Barnaby, the sadness etched on his face had not dissipated in the slightest.

“Are you okay?” she asked kindly, mittened hands interjoing for a brief moment before Barnaby pulled away.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure don’t look fine.”

Barnaby was much better at hiding his emotions than a certain other Slytherin and gave a smile that would have seemed natural were it not for the previous circumstances.

“Don’t worry about me, Clara. We have a whole Christmas ahead of us. And pudding!” he added excitedly.

The childlike enthusiasm that normally enraptured her would have normally worked, but being the sensible Gryffindor she was (a rarity in the house of the brave) could tell this was not the entire story. Nevertheless, she did not press further...for now.

“Alright.”

She was given an affectionate kiss before the group trudged back to the castle as the light decreased and the day drew to a close. Even holding hands walking to the entrance felt oddly out of place.

“Good match, Clara Lin,” Tulip said with a wink. “See ya tomorrow for the feast.”

“Bye, Clara!” Penny waved cheerfully as she descended towards the basement and thereby the kitchens.

With the exception of her housemates and sister with whom she shared a common room, everyone waved a hearty goodbye but her boyfriend did not say anything other than giving a quick kiss on the forehead before lumbering off quickly behind Merula. How ironic it should be that the youngest among them should voice aloud her suspicions.

“Barnaby seemed sad,” Em mentioned as they approached the fat lady.

“Hm?” Clara asked, not expecting such a comment from her eleven year old sister.

“He kissed you but not the usual way,” came the innocent response. “Maybe he’s homesick.”

“Barnaby’s fine, I’m sure of it. If he says so, I believe him.”

“Do you believe everything I’ve told you.”

Clara rolled her eyes at her little sister.

“It’s different with siblings, Em. You’re just lucky mum told me to let you tag along.”

“I didn’t need to tag along to know your boyfriend didn’t wanna throw snowballs.”

At this conjecture, Rowan gave the password (Festum Maximus) but not before the remark caused Clara to pause for a brief second before continuing into the common room. She knew Barnaby and would be aware of any personal problem or grief he had within his psyche.

Right?

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

Clara briefly forgot about the snowball fight after sharing some hot cocoa with Charlie and then some brief but good natured gossip with Rowan. The two girls discussed all manner of things as they usually did- presents, family, relationships, and what they would wear to the feast the next day however fancy or casual. But soon the warm and coziness of their dormitory overtook them and without fuss or fanfare fell asleep into the soft snows into the night, falling down silently within the December darkness.

By morning, however, the same excitement came upon them both as light permeated through the stained glass windows. The snow had since ceased, but a fresh layer of powder brought more excitement to an otherwise extremely white Christmas. And presents were waiting.

“Race you down!” Rowan said with a laugh as she bounded out of her bed, blue robe flying behind her.

“No you don’t!” Clara shouted back.

It wasn’t long until they were opening presents of which there were many laying under the tree. Charlie was already one step ahead of them, a blue Weasley sweater with a large ‘W’ inscribed on the front courtesy of the kindly Mrs. Weasley whom Clara had acquainted with by now.

“Happy Christmas, Clara!” the redhead said cheerfully.

“Happy Christmas to you too, Charlie.”

“You two seem to have quite a few gifts. Don’t hold back on my account,” Charlie said with a good natured chuckle and waggle of the eyebrows.

Neither of the girls did. Trying to be sensitive to the fact that her best male friend (aside from her boyfriend) did not come from wealth, Clara and Rowan opened their presents slowly and with a degree of caution. The latter came from a naturally wealthy family due to the success of their tree farm while the former, not rich by any stretch of the imagination, still accrued enough gifts to acquire a sizeable load- treacle fudge from Hagrid, a Gryffindor Quidditch scarf from Charlie, a cookbook from Em (‘haha’ she thought sardonically given her lack of skill in making cuisine of any type), a red dress from Penny hand stitched, a new mug from Rowan, further sweets from Mrs. Weasley, and a book on Chinese Mandarin from her parents, no doubt to further education as a potential ambassador like they wanted. Annoying, but even so Clara knew her parents loved her all the same despite their flaws.

After an hour or so she thought that all of her presents had been opened until Rowan flipped her one last gift, missed originally from the large pile.

“It’s from Barnaby,” she explained.

Of course! How could I have forgotten?

Clara hoped he had enjoyed his gift down in the dungeons (Newt Scamander’s latest book on creatures) but had not yet detected his own token of gratitude. It was actually quite small- a little rectangular box no bigger than ten centimeters wrapped in red and green paper with sparkles topped with a golden bow. All in all the decoration by itself was impressive.

Opening up, her jaw almost dropped.

It was a moving photo of Clara and her family before Jacob disappeared. Everyone appeared radiantly happy but there was reason for it. Right away she discerned that this was the photo she’d given Barnaby three years at the end of their third year before parting ways. A wave of nostalgia hit her as she witnessed her parents smiling and waving, Jacob’s tepid nervousness at what he was about to face, his younger sister giving a gigantic hug, while little Emily sucked on a pacifier, blissfully content in doing so. The meaning was not lost on the sixth year Gryffindor: a time when her family had been happy and unspoiled by the loss of a child. The photo was framed in silver and carried a heartfelt note.

May your family always guide you even in the darkest of times.

-Love, Barnaby

Wiping her eyes, Clara looked up towards Rowan and Charlie who had also noticed the scene.

“This was so beautiful,” she spoke quietly.

“Aw, hun,” Rowan comforted sitting beside her, embracing the fireside. “You know he’d do anything for you.”

“I’m wondering...maybe Em wasn’t so crazy. What if he really was struggling with something and I ignored him?”

“You’ll see him at the feast,” Charlie reasoned, playing with a dragon toy Bill had given him from Gringotts. “And I’m sure he’ll love how much you appreciated the gift.”

Clara supposed that might be true but she couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. Either way, her cursebreaker instincts would be put to the test in finding out the truth. Barnaby never held back from her. He was always jolly and upbeat, why should this holiday season be any different?

I just hope I’m not too late….

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

The Hogwarts feast was as grand as it always was- twelve enormous fir trees decorated with an array of colorful ornaments decked the halls, wreaths, mistletoe, and holly hung from the ceiling in a wide array of patterns. Along the tables belonging to each house lay a smorgasbord of dishes- roast turkey, mashed potatoes, sprouts, chicken, green beans, pudding, treacle tart, and so much more. The kitchen pulled out all the stops and Professor Dumbledore sitting at the head of the staff table gave his stamp approval, his blue eyes twinkling with holiday joy.

“To the many few who opted to stay behind for our voluptuous feast I say- tuck in.”

Charlie roared with approval as he ravenously delved into the goodies with Clara and Rowan not far behind. It didn’t take long for the rest of the group to show up- Penny, Tulip, Tonks, etc. They were the only one among the sixth years that had stayed behind with a mere handful of younger students hanging around awkwardly by themselves. The teenage Gryffindor would have given more thought to them were it not for the fact that she was anticipating a certain someone.

“Have you seen, Barnaby?” she would ask every time a new guest sat down at the Gryffindor table (it didn’t matter who sat where at this point). No one knew. Her sister remained blissfully unaware of course by the time she arrived, bragging about how many presents received that year.

Though trying to enjoy the scrumptious feast at hand, Clara couldn’t but look up every so often or so for her boyfriend...which by Rowan’s calculations was every five minutes.

“You’re not even eating,” came her best friend’s admonishment. “Relax, he’ll be here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He can eat more than the rest of us combined. Why would he miss the opportunity?” Charlie reasoned.

“The feast is his favorite part of Christmas,” Penny said, reaching across and squeezing Clara’s hand.

Despite the kindly reassuring of her friends, it wasn’t until Clara caught a flash of green that she truly began to seek out answers. Unfortunately, the green sweater did not belong to a burly man of about 190 centimeters but of a Slytherin girl recognized as her greatest rival (and pest at times). Merula joined their table without fanfare but right away everyone could tell there was something amiss. Far from being a ‘friendly’ person you could always count on a sarcastic or snarky remark from Merula Snyde. Not so this time around.

“Lin. I think you need to go see Barnaby,” she stated bluntly, getting straight to the point.

The table immediately ceased eating at this development, not that Clara had consumed much beforehand.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Are you deaf, Lin? The bighead isn’t even interested in eating and that’s saying something…” she huffed in frustration knowing sensitivity wasn’t her strong suit and tried to deliver the news more amicably. “Just see him, okay? He doesn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

Were this their first year, the amount of trust in Merula would have been below that of a snake. But five years later, she would not have informed Clara of something that delicate were it not of serious importance. They were collaborative rivals after all...not bitter enemies. At least not anymore.

“Where is he?” came the simple question.

“In the courtyard freezing his arse off. Just...don’t let him do anything stupid. More than he already does.”

Clara wasted no time in getting up from the table. She didn’t even bother to look back at the reactions her friends may or may not have had. The hunch of the previous day had been right...but she’d fail to recognize it. For Merlin’s sake even little Em could tell. What was so deficient within herself that her own boyfriend stood out on Christmas alone in the cold?”

“Sis?” Em called out but it was no use. She was out of the Great Hall before anyone could say so much as ‘Doris Crockford.’

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

It didn’t take long for Clara to reach the desired destination. So frantic was her pace, there was barely time to button up her jacket, pull on her black knit gloves and hat, while also adjusting her hair into its usual long ponytail. But none of that mattered. Personal comfort could be foregone in the face of a significant other suffering needlessly. Numerous anxious thoughts raced through the brain upon the approach, seeing that he was dressed in a dark brown jacket, jeans, a blue and red hat with a puffball on top complete with calf level brown boots.

Something was wrong...something was wrong and I didn’t bother to ask. I just assumed. What if I made him upset? What if he wants to break up?

“Calm yourself, Clara,” she admonished herself. “Barnaby wouldn’t hold back anything from you.”

Despite that attempt at reassurance, it didn’t do much for her nerves. That being said, a Gryffindor did what was necessary in spite of fear. For better or worse, this Christmas conversation had to occur. For Merlin’s sake, even Merula knew when something was off. But the analytical mind wouldn’t let the issue go until she found out what plagued him so.

“Barnaby!” the cursebreaker said in a tone that fully betrayed her anxiety. “Merula told me you were out here. Is everything okay?”

“Did you like your present?”

The simple reply, a question to a question. In fact she was so taken aback by it, words failed her for a brief moment.

“I-uh….yes. Of course I did, but that’s not the reason I came out here.”

She took both his hands in hers, noting just how much taller he was in situations like these. It took quite the effort to kiss him but the primary concern lay with the heart- underneath the archway of the west aqueduct in the courtyard, twinkling white crystals winking in the late early morning sun. Both of their breaths resonated but only one had trouble looking the other in the eye.

“Was my present not what you wanted? I know you’re interested in being a Magizoolist but if there was something else I could get you instead…”

A finger pressed against her rosy, red lips.

“But did you like mine?”

The question, being repeated twice became a source of puzzlement now.

“Barnaby I already told you I loved it. It’s not often I get to see a picture of my family whole like that…” she paused, narrowing her eyes but not unkindly. “Why?”

“If you’re happy that’s all I care about on this special day.”

“But if you’re not, how can this day be special?” Clara countered. “Please...don’t keep me out. What’s wrong. Merula sees it and so can I.”

There could be so many explanations as to why her boyfriend was upset. But this wasn’t a cursed vault where a keen, undiluted mind could be put to the task in finding it. It didn’t require analytics, but empathy.

Barnaby stuffed mittened hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning his head to the side.

“I...I thought if you could realize how important your family is to you maybe it might help...with mine,” he breathed out.

“What do you-oh…” Clara said, letting out a soft sigh of realization. “Your dad.”

“Yes.”

“He yelled at you again in a letter.”

“No.”

“He disowned you?”

“No.”

“He said something-”

“Clara,” the sixteen year old Slytherin said sharply though the aim of his emotions was not directed towards her. “He didn’t send me anything this year. Nothing.”

It took a second for the Gryffindor to sink that in her brain.

“Nothing?”

“Our relationship has been bad for awhile. But at least he sent me presents. Heck, he liked that I was good at fighting and eating. I love both those things.”

“You’re more than just a fighter and an eater,” she soothed in a soft tone, rubbing his arm. “You know that.”

“I do,” he said, still not looking directly at her. “But with me constantly disobeying his wishes and taking my own path in life...it makes me realize my family has always been rubbish. Those presents were only under the three if I did what he said...and the wrapping paper was always lousy!” he added.

Clara had an inkling of what her boyfriend’s life was like but not much beyond a few short stories and traumatizing incidents he never liked to discuss. But to be cut off completely well that was news to her. And it wasn’t fair.

“Sweetie, listen,” she told him, wrapping her arms around his strong neck. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. If I had just…” his voice cut off now unable to say anything more beyond potential crying and Clara could see tears welling up in his eyes. “I-If I can’t have my family, you should at least appreciate how amazing yours is.”

“Shhh,” she said, rocking him in a tone she used whenever he became upset. Being a member of the frog choir and an excellent singer, it helped calm her boyfriend. And now was the perfect time.

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

The muggle tune was one she knew growing up and read from one of her mother’s books at university. Given that it was Christmas time, the moment felt quite appropriate. Slowly, she grabbed his left hand and led him around the courtyard as if they were dancing, feet crunching in the snow in a soft ballad until they stopped below a string of mistletoe that hung in one of the archways.

Sleep in heavenly peace

Upon the ending of the song, she wiped the stream of tears from his cheeks.

“You always have a family in me,” Clara said, adjusting his scruffy, brown hair underneath his hat. “And you’re the greatest gift a girl could ask for.”

Slowly and with such tenderness that the loving couple melted into each other like a marshmallow into a cup of hot chocolate, they kissed.

“Merry Christmas, Barnaby Lee.”

The Slytherin grinned back, picking her up by her waist and swinging around and dipping her forward as if she were a princess. All tears were gone and regret washed away by the spirit of the season.

“Merry Christmas, Clara Lin.”

28 notes · View notes

bluedemon1995 · 4 years

Text

31 Resolutions-Happy New Years! Better late then never right? I wrote way too much and then had a killer headache so sorry it's not on time. To make up for it, I added a bonus! Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! Also this one is so long that I’ll add the link if you want to finish reading there!

Pidge was sitting at the table at the NYE gala and for the first time in a long time, feeling unsure. It started off well enough. She was dressed up, wearing a green and black gown that Veronica had assured her was stunning. It hugged her body and yet, didn’t make her feel uncomfortable or self conscious. She wore shiny sandals that reminded her or ivy and some jewelry that some of the Olkarion refugees had made for her. She was even feeling good about her hair and makeup. She felt that she still looked like herself but maybe a more shined up version or even more adult version.

The girl MFE pilots and Romelle all got ready together, having a few pre-drinks and even hiring a driver to take them to the gala. End result, when she arrived at the gala for the first time while attending an event like this, she was feeling happy and relaxed. And while her mom wasn’t happy that she declined a few invitations from some other officers overall she was letting her be because ultimately Colleen was just glad that she was in attendance. But what made today special was that Pidge knew she was getting another opportunity to enjoy her friends and family before everyone dispersed and went back to their own lives.

But that comfort was short lived because over the course of the night, what started as a small look or comment turned into blatant rudeness and what felt like an outright attack on her. Which Pidge was sorely unprepared for. While in school as Katie, she was used to being an outcast and the nerd. But she wasn’t outright bullied because well, no guys were interested in her and she was pretty low on the totem pole. Then at the Garrison she was a guy and while often ignored she wasn’t picked on. Then she found Hunk and Lance and well, no one said shit to her.

But thinking back to when she walked in with the girls and met up with the MFE pilots and the paladins-minus Coran. Everyone greeted each other warmly and introductions of the new people were made. Keith introduced a few new Blades- the males: Linus, Titus and a new female-Amoza. If Pidge thought Acxa was intimidating, Amoza was ten times that. Apparently, they were hoping to see Earth customs firsthand and make a few contacts. They all entered together and grabbed drinks and stood around to mingle. But one of the first things Amoza said to Pidge was inquire why she was so small, if she was a kit.

That comment made Pidge flush and stammer, which probably provided her proof, but she was just unprepared for that comment especially after feeling so mature. Thankfully, Keith interjected, joking that she didn’t want to make that mistake. He gave her a warm look, that made her flush, and when she averted her eyes from his gaze she noticed that Amoza was staring at her. Pidge looked to Veronica but she was arguing with Lance and Hunk and Shay were closely talking. And it didn’t look like she was impressed with her. Getting lost in her thoughts, Pidge lost track of the conversation. Tuning back in, she realized that Amoza had somehow managed to turn everyone so she was on the outskirts of the group. Sighing she glanced around the room looking for an exit strategy.

Spotting her parents, Pidge excused herself to go and say hi to her parents and Krolia. Both Keith and Matt quickly followed however, with Keith asking if everything was ok. She nodded while avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to seem immature so she just jumped into the conversation. Later, as others mingled she found herself standing with Keith off to the side of the room. As always, she felt herself relax and again feel that strange comfort and familiarity that she often doesn’t find with others. And when Keith asked what she was drinking and she explained it was some new drink that was a version of sake he asked if he could try it. Shyly nodding he took her hand and guided it to his mouth. Pidge felt that his eyes were on hers and she couldn’t break it away. Then the announcement came for everyone find their tables. When she turned she looked up only to find Amoza’s gaze steadfastly on her.

Shaking off that uncomfortable feeling both headed to the table with Keith’s hand in the small of her back. Which was nothing unusual except that her lower back was uncovered due to the dress. As they made their way to the table, Pidge could feel the heat of his hand and that his thumb rhythmically move up and down. As they approached the table of 8, she quickly surmised there was a problem. Sighing she looked around frantically trying to keep her cool. Shiro, Curtis, Hunk, Shay, Lance, Veronica, and Amoza…they were short a seat. As they get to the table, she can feel herself start to panic and she turns looking for a seat close by at a different table.

Keith catches up and quickly sees the problem, frowning, he questions, “Amoza, I thought you were seated with the Blades?”

The young and beautiful alien looks up in surprise. “Oh sorry, I just assumed as your partner, I’d be seated with you. My, um, how do you say, mistake.”

That said she didn’t move. An inch. Pidge had started at the word partner…was Keith in a relationship with the alien? Why didn’t she know about this. But why wouldn’t he? He was single and attractive, and so was she. And tall. Strong.

So many thoughts started flying through her brain that she unintentionally took a step back, slightly twisting her ankle in the unfamiliar heels. She let out a quiet, “Ahh” when Keith’s hand turned into an arm support for her. Adjusting quickly to the added weight he bent his head, murmuring directly in her ear, “Hey no worries, I got you.”

Pidge felt her eyes tear and for a moment everything was blurry. Quickly blinking, she tried to straighten and looked around, “Hey, no problem, I’m fine. I’ll just find another seat. Go ahead and sit Keith.”

She moved away and looked around, right into James’ concerned face. Their eyes met and he stood. “Katie, I’d be honored if you sat at our table. None of us have dates, so we have the room. I mean if, you don’t mind sitting me and a bunch of unruly MFE pilots.” Smiling he reached a hand out to her.

Filled with relief, Pidge nodded, “Sure, thanks James.”

Just as his hand held hers however, Keith interrupted abruptly, “No need Griffin, Amoza should really be with her teammates.” Lacing his fingers with Pidge’s he continues, talking directly to her, “C’mon, like I’d, or um, WE would let you sit anywhere else.” Tugging on her hand he urges her back towards the original table. Now speaking to James-his gaze on the other man standing, “Appreciate the offer but Pidge is ours.”

Pidge starts to move back when she hears James say, “Well, I think she works more with me now so that’s debatable. I’d even go so far to say mine, but sure, you were part of her first team. I understand you have some history there.”

Pidge’s eyes get large and she makes eye contact with Veronica who pretty much spit her wine out all over Lance at that comment. Lance howled, torn between laughing and being bad at getting wine over his suit-loudly, which was a nice distraction. Because Keith had already turned and moved towards Griffin to reply. Pidge quickly pushed Keith towards the table, “Not now! Please.”

He looks down at her and pulls her arm so they are practically embracing. He looks over her head and stares at James, “We can talk about this later Griffin.”

“Looking forward to it, Kogane.”

“Keith, everyone is staring, let’s just sit.”

He nods, turning to the table, “Amoza, do you know where your table is?”

“No, can you show me?”

He nods, “It’s on the perimeter by the entrance doors, two from center.”

Amoza stares at him, then at her. Veronica interjects, “If you’d like I can walk you over now, I just see that Acxa has arrived and I’d love to say hi.” Standing, “Let’s go.”

Amoza finally stands, giving Pidge a look that clearly was not filled with love or New Years cheer. As they sit, she looks down, at her painted nails, thinking, I never stood a chance.

Keith leans close, “Hey, um, sorry did you want to sit with Griffin?”

“Huh?”

“It’s just you look a little sad, I’m sorry if I spoke for you. I, just, you belong here with m-us.”

“No, Keith don’t be dense, of course I want to sit here. I just feel bad that your partner had to leave.”

Lance interjects here, “Yeah, what’s with getting a girlfriend and not even telling us! C’mon you could of sent a message!”

Now it was Keith’s turn to say “Huh?”

Lance rolls his eyes, “Um yeah hot alien who said she was your ‘partner’.”

Keith shakes his head in the negative, “No! We aren’t dating. She’s still new to the language I’m simply training her. And the way it works is during training with the Blades is they are supposed to stay with their trainer. Nothing more, so stop.”

At that reply, Pidge lost track of the conversation but felt so relieved that she took her glass of wine and took a healthy drink. Damn, what was going on with her???

The rest of dinner went by fine but Pidge could swear she could feel the alien’s eyes on her. And she was right because each time she turned or looked, she was staring. And somewhere along the line, Keith had his arm draped across the back of her chair and was pretty attentive to her overall, which was only adding to the confusion on Pidge’s end. Which let to a little too much wine at dinner.

Getting up, she excused her self to the restroom hoping to get a handle on herself. As she was washing her hands, she looked in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her hands were shaking. Sighing she wished things could just be easy. Lately, she had found herself thinking of Keith in very unplatonic ways and their phone calls and messages started to become more frequent. She thought Shiro had said that Keith was thinking of staying on Earth for a while and that led to some pretty fun daydreams on her end. But apparently that information was incorrect and she needed to adjust.

Just as she turned to head for the door, Amoza stalked in. She looked her up and down and stated, “Human, I want to inform you that Keith will be my mate. We are perfectly suited and my father is a very powerful man on my planet. I get want I want.”

Pidge blinked, what the hell?!

Suddenly angry and less self conscious, she replies instantly, “Well, alien, I’m thinking Keith has something to do with this and it’s up to him who he will be with. You may think you are perfectly suited but I know we are. That’s what years of fighting side by side do. And I don’t need my daddy to get me a man. I can do it all on my own so fuck off.”

Pushing forward she storms out of the bathroom, only to see Veronica and Acxa listening at the door. Pissed at herself for losing her temper and pissed at the alien who thought she could push her around Pidge looks at them both. Not sure what to expect she’s surprised when they both grin and Acxa replies, “You stop girl!”

Veronica laughs, “I think you meant, you go girl. And I second that, no one has that right and I’m thinking she’s an alien gold digger or hussy.”

That was enough to make Pidge laugh and readjust her mood. The girls walk with her back to the table. “Didn’t you guys have to go to the bathroom?”

“Nope, just wanted to check on you and be sure you had backup if necessary. Acxa saw Amoza leave right after you. We wanted to be sure she didn’t ambush you but a few people slowed us down.”

Feeling calmer, Pidge nods, “Thanks for the backup.”

The rest of the night progressed similarly with Amoza trying to get alone with Keith or trying to put Pidge down but everyone was quick to stop it. But nonetheless it was exhausting trying to keep up her guard. Pidge finally found Matt, “Hey, I’m gonna go, I got a room up stairs and I need to get out of here.”

Matt nods, “I’ll come too.”

“No, no!! Please stay. Tell everyone good night and I’ll see then at the breakfast buffet.”

Matt nods, kissing her cheek. “Be careful, love you and Happy New Year.”

Pidge strides out of the ballroom, stoping at the stairs to take off her shoes. They are killing her and she just doesn’t care anymore. She goes up one step when she hears her name being called loudly. “Pidge, stop.”

Looking across the hallway she sees Keith jogging up to her. With her on the step they are almost eye to eye. “You are going to miss the countdown.”

“It’s okay. Go find”

“No.”

“Keith.”

Both can hear the yelling and the countdown, when Keith tentatively slides his hands on her hips and slowly around her. Pulling her closer, his one hand is splayed on her lower back and the other is on her neck, all the while maintaining eye contact. “Happy New Year” with those words he lowers his mouth to hers. Foregoing a typically tentative first kiss, this kiss was all heat and passion. Pidge’s mind swam and she automatically opened her mouth to his demand. And demand it did. The kiss stole her breath and made her realize that this was what she was missing from her life. How did she survive without Keith’s kisses??

She heard a moan and absently realized that was her! Pidge has no idea how long they kissed but when they stopped her shoes were on the floor, she was pressed up against the stair railing, somehow Keith’s leg was in between hers and she was essentially riding his leg. Her hands were tangled in his hair and both were breathing heavily.

Keith brushes his nose against hers, “So, my New Years resolution is to stop being afraid of rejection and to reach out to those people I need. I’m going to communicate better. That said, I have come to realize, that I need you Katie, so much. And I’m tired of pretending otherwise, I want more than friendship, a lot more. So, I gave my resignation to the Blades and am opening a mechanic shop. I told Shiro I’d freelance for him and the paperwork just got cleared. So I’m officially a consultant for the Garrison and I’m looking for a house. I was hoping and praying, that maybe you’d like to…well..be mine?”

Pidge’s eyes filled with tears, “Quiznack! Of course. Shit Keith that’s the best New Years resolution and let me say, I will also make that same promise. I have come to realize I’ve had feelings for you too and I was too scared to tell you. But, never again.”

They both smiled and kissed again. Upon hearing a whistle and the comment, “Hey isn’t that the Green and Black paladin?” They both decided to adjourn to Pidge’s room and relax.

Bonus

Next day….

Keith was in the gym going over his mourning routine. He had about 40 minutes before he needed to wake Pidge up for the breakfast. He was hoping to be done in 20 so they could have a little time before meeting up with everyone. He couldn’t wait to tell Shiro the good news even though he figured he already knew.

With that he turned to see his blade team walking in. Acxa smiled, “You look very happy.”

Keith grinned, “Yeah I feel it too.”

She nods, stating quietly, “Just so you know, there will be money exchanging hands. We have quite a large pool of money on the outcome. So there will be many questions at breakfast.”

Keith laughed, “You know what, I don’t even care. I’m that happy right now.”

Amoza walks up to him and states, “When do we leave?”

Keith nods, addressing the whole group. “So, I was going to tell you this later but now is good. I’m not returning, Acxa will be your leader and I’m staying on Earth. But if you ever need anything please don’t hesitate to reach out. And you know what, I’m done for today, so I’ll see you at breakfast. I’ve gotta go see about my girl.”

He leaves before anyone has a chance to say anything.

At breakfast, the room quiets down fast when Amoza storms in and growls, “You should rethink this. I have offered for you. If necessary, I am willing to battle for your hand. You definitely deserve better than that kit.”

Keith frowns, “That is uncalled for. I’ve never considered us anything other than coworkers. What the hell?”

Pidge grins, “I’m game! How do we battle for Keith’s hand? I haven’t really kicked ass in a while.”

Colleen shoots her a frown, hissing, “Do you SEE how big that alien is? I don’t want you hurt!”

Matt laughs, “Seriously mom, you have no worries. Pidgey is totally badass.”

Krolia stands, “There is no need for a battle. Keith, hand me your blade.” Keith passes it over immediately, “Little one, please take this.”

Pidge takes it, holding it in her hand. Krolia continues, “Please say Knowledge or Death and hold the blade in a fighting stance.”

Pidge nods, standing and instantly mirroring Keith’s fighting stance with the blade and says clearly, “Knowledge or Death.”

The blade instantly glows and transforms into Keith’s preferred weapon. But then the blade glows even brighter and slowly transforms into a weapon that is better suited for Pidge, lighter and more balanced for a smaller fighter. As the room is filled with gasps, all of the Blades kneel and with a fist over their hearts reply, “Knowledge or death.”

Pidge looks to Keith who looks just as confused. Krolia speaks up again, “Thank you. You may pass the weapon back to Keith. This is proof that even the blade recognizes you as Keith’s true mate.” She smiles and reaches out to squeeze Pidge’s shoulder.

Pidge sits down, “Wow, that was intense. I wonder how that does it? It actually felt lighter when it changed for me. I wonder if I could“

Keith grins, and kisses her on the mouth, “Later, we have all the time in the world remember?”

#katie holt #keith kogane #kidge #kidgemas 2020 #keith and pidge #pidge and keith #keith x pidge #keith

20 notes · View notes

legolaslovely · 5 years

Text

Mine

A/N: HAPPY FILI FRIDAY! I’m so excited I could get this out in time to celebrate this week. And I’m really happy with how this turned out. Hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Fili x Reader

Word Count: 3,727

Warnings: flufffffff with some angst for plot

Summary: Kili and (Y/N) pretend to court for Kili’s sake and Fili doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Fili and Kili, once brothers in arms, now brothers in their best robes, strode through the corridors side by side, their individual colors hanging from their shoulders and their coronets placed over their neatly braided hair. One wore a smirk while the other frowned deeply, dreading the night to come.

“You seem thrilled,” Fili said, looking sideways at his brother.

“The only part of this night I am looking forward to is the end of it.”

Fili chuckled. “You should be grateful Thorin went to all this trouble-”

“To throw a ball with the specific goal of finding me a dam to court? Oh, yeah, Fi. I’m so grateful.”

Fili nudged him, making Kili sidestep a bit and glare. “Don’t be such a brat.”

They came to the end of the corridor. To the left was the way to the Grand Hall, but Kili took a sharp right without missing a beat. He didn’t acknowledge Fili’s grunts of protest until he stood in front of a familiar door. “We have to pick up (Y/N) first,” he said before knocking.

Fili’s face crinkled in confusion. Sure, (Y/N) was their closest friend, but he didn’t think she’d be invited to the ball. Nor did he think she would have wanted to attend. But out came her voice from the cracks in the door to her chambers, inviting them inside.

Kili walked straight through, sitting on (Y/N)’s bed with a plop that sent the woodwork creaking. Fili, however, was stopped in the doorway, the use of his legs momentarily stolen by the sight of (Y/N) in a dark blue gown. The silken fabric fell from her shoulders, billowing around her arms and cinching at the waist. It flowed behind her in a curtain as she floated about the room looking for the hair clip she was always misplacing.

“(Y/N), you look beautiful,” Kili said. His head was currently laying off the edge of the bed and he was seeing her upside down. (Y/N) shot him a quiet thank you and laughed at his hanging tresses as they just touched the floor.

“Yes, you-you look… I didn’t know you were attending tonight,” Fili managed.

She spun, making her dress fly about her legs and then swarm inwards again like a hive of bees. “I was planning to. That is, if I can find anything to set my hair with. Do you see my clip anywhere? I just… I just had it over there…” She continued pulling out drawers and pushing them back in, lifting blankets from the bed and setting them back down, checking every flat surface she could see. She even rolled Kili over on the bed to make sure he hadn’t sat on it.

As (Y/N) paced, Fili heard something skid across the floor. She passed the bed and he saw the silver clip glinting in the light of the window. He bent to pick it up, but as he did so, (Y/N) turned quickly and fell over him. He snatched the clip and caught her with his other arm, placing her back on her feet and steadying her. “Found it,” he said.

“Mahal, thanks,” she sighed. She straightened a part of his robe she’d ruffled and turned to her mirror, whipping her deft fingers through her hair to twist the sides back and braid them together down her spine.

Fili sat next to Kili’s head and watched her. “I’m glad you’re coming with us tonight. You can keep me company while Kili goes off dancing with every dam in Erebor.”

“Actually, (Y/N) is coming to keep me from doing just that.” Only when his brother dragged his gaze from (Y/N) at the glass did Kili continue. “I’m escorting her. We’re courting,” he said with a proud smile on his face. Even upside down, Fili could see every tooth in his mouth.

“We’re fake courting,” (Y/N) said, eyeing Kili through the mirror.

That was the moment Fili realized she was wearing Kili’s colors. His chest tightened. “Why?”

“Because I love Tauriel. We’ve been courting for months and until Uncle accepts that and stops holding these balls to find me a dam, I will keep finding a way to get out of them.”

Fili knew this. It was a topic that often came up in their conversations. But (Y/N) was never involved. He looked to her through the mirror. “And how did you get roped into this lie?”

She shrugged, fastening the clip and whirling to him, sending a look over her shoulder to study the back of her gown. “I wanted to go to the ball.”

He stood and met her, anticipating her question, and tucked in the laces of her gown for her. “I didn’t know you had an interest in them. You should have told us. I would have brought you.”

“And stop every dam in Erebor from falling at your feet?” she asked, taking Kili’s outstretched arm.

“Yeah, Fi. Maybe you’ll find a lover this evening,” Kili said, leading (Y/N) into the corridors. Before the door to her chambers was closed, (Y/N) turned back and reached for Fili’s hand, dragging him next to her so the three of them walked to the Grand Hall in a row.

“Are you sure you want to risk Thorin’s wrath?” Fili asked in her ear. “If he finds out-”

“He won’t,” (Y/N) said. “I love your uncle, but he’s clueless about this stuff.” Fili watched her thumb fiddle with the embroidered pattern on his sleeve as she spoke. “As far as he knows, Kili and I have been courting for a fortnight and in a couple days we’ll tell him it didn’t work out. No harm done, really.”

Fili hummed as the three of them approached the tall doors to the hall. “I hope for your sake things go according to plan.” He dropped his arm and stepped back as Kili announced them, but (Y/N) waved Fili closer.

“Stay with us.”

He couldn’t help but obey. Her hand brushed his side as she again looped her arm through his. It almost made him shiver, but he ignored the sensation and pushed his shoulders back as the doors of the hall opened and he and his brother led her through.

Fili watched (Y/N)’s eyes blow wide as she took in the Grand Hall in all its glory. Her excitement made him see it all afresh- the chandeliers holding hundreds of candles, the tile floors that shone with their reflections, the tables full of glorious food and drink. Her fingers flexed around his arm, squeezing it tightly and pulling him closer. For a moment, he selfishly wished he didn’t have to share this moment with anyone but her. But he shook the thought away.

“And to think you both complain of these balls,” (Y/N) said.

Kili scoffed, but Fili said, “They’re usually not as striking as this. Sometimes they can grow boring quickly.”

As they walked through the floor to the high table, the row of three had to break. (Y/N)’s arm stayed wrapped in Kili’s but she kept Fili close behind with a tight grip on his hand. He knew she was probably nervous and wanted both her experienced friends near. That was all, he convinced himself.

When there were less dwarfs to wriggle through, she turned to Fili. “They wouldn’t be so boring if you danced once in a while.”

“Fili is the last dwarf you’ll see on the dance floor,” Kili said, making (Y/N) laugh.

Fili rolled his eyes. “You will see me on the floor when I’ve found the right partner.” He heard Kili hum and met (Y/N)’s smile as she flicked it over her shoulder.

He watched Kili and (Y/N) greet Thorin before moving to their places at the other end of the high table. (Y/N) bobbed a graceful curtsy and Thorin took her hand, saying something to make her laugh. Pride fluttered in his chest as he watched those around him gaze at her in wonder. Was that the dam who helped reclaim Erebor? And now she’s at the high table? She must be marvelous company. She must be of the upmost importance to the royal family.

She was.

Fili followed, bowing to his uncle and shaking his hand. He barely listened to Thorin speak of his hopes of Kili finding a dam to wed on this night. He was busy watching (Y/N) thank the servant who adjusted her chair for her and placed a silk napkin on her lap. Her hand rose to squeeze Kili’s arm as her lips moved a mile a minute in her excitement. When she leaned her head back to laugh at his brother, Fili interrupted his uncle’s musings and excused himself, moving to join them.

He sat at the end of the table, on the other side of (Y/N). Her cheeks were already rosy from the few sips of port she’d had and her nervous hands kept smoothing her skirts under the table. He grabbed her fingers before they could slide away again and she spun to look at him. He leaned to her ear.

“There’s no reason for you to fret tonight. You are radiant and adored by everyone in this room. You can do no wrong,” he said.

“I feel like everyone is staring at me,” she whispered as if anyone would be able to hear her except Fili. “But I know at least one who is not. One who has been staring at you since we arrived.”

He was lost in the scent of her hair, unable to detect the meaning of her words. “Hm?”

She nodded her head and Fili followed her gaze to a dam on the edge of the floor who was indeed watching him. “Do you know who that is?” (Y/N) asked.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen her before,” he said, conscious of (Y/N)’s hand still in his.

“That is Princess Mevine. She and her family were driven out of her lands and into the Iron Hills after the orc attacks many years ago. They’ve yet to rebuild, so they live with Dain. Word has it that she’s very smart and kind and it’s plain to see she’s very beautiful…”

Fili hummed. “Why are you telling me this?”

She leaned back in her seat, huffing. “Are you daft? She’s been watching you all night! She’s obviously extremely interested in you, as you should be in her. You should dance with her, she’s practically begging you to ask her.” Her hand slipped from his grasp.

“Oh, n-no. I’m not- I don’t dance at these things-”

“Well, you should. With her. Kili and I are going,” she said, rising from her seat and taking Kili’s hand, ignoring his protests. “Join us and ask her!” she whispered in Fili’s ear as she passed behind him.

Fili let his shoulders hit the back of his chair and the remaining port in his goblet past his lips. He would not be dancing with anyone tonight, he decided. Instead, he would sit and sulk and watch (Y/N) have a wonderful time with Kili. But as the music began, even though she was with a dwarf other than himself, (Y/N)’s giddiness brought a smile to his face.

Kili bowed, losing his balance as he straightened, making him side step and making (Y/N) giggle behind her hand. She have him a low curtsey and Fili could see in her face that she was mocking the custom. Then the music swelled and the groups of dancers weaved in and out of each other, keeping their eyes glued to their partner’s. Well, that was the goal, anyway. Kili’s eyes were glued to his feet and he bumped into the dwarf next to him twice before the dance was over.

(Y/N), however, was the epitome of grace. Fili was amazed at her skill, but knew her too well not to notice her fingers twitching anxiously at her side. She stepped in to circle Kili, shoulder to shoulder, and she sneakily elbowed his side and bit her lip to cover her smile. In return, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him with more bluster than necessary, sending her crashing to his chest. She swatted his shoulder but her laughter floated to Fili’s ears as the dance ended.

As the couples on the floor applauded the musicians, Fili watched a server enter the Grand Hall from the kitchen door. He carried a tray of the cream covered melon rounds Fili knew (Y/N) went berserk for. He slid out of his seat and into the kitchens, stealing an entire plate of them for himself and winking at the cook. He popped one in his mouth before sneaking back into the hall and setting the dish down in (Y/N)’s empty place.

He expected her back by now, there was no way Kili would stick around on the floor for another dance. He looked through the room, barely seeing Princess Mevine grinning hopefully at him. (Y/N) wasn’t on the floor, she wasn’t at the table, he didn’t see her in the corridors… oh no.

“Ooh! Are these those cream balls Rava makes?” Kili asked.

Fili swatted his hand. “They’re not for you. How could you leave her alone with Uncle? Do you know what he’d do to her if he found out she’s been helping you deceive him?”

“Who are they for?” Kili asked, gesturing hopelessly toward the treats on (Y/N)’s place. Fili’s glare kept him talking. “Uncle loves (Y/N). Even if he did find out about our trick, all the blame would be mine. He’d never hold anything against her. Now, why does she get all the cream balls?”

Fili took his brother by the arm, pulling him toward the other end of the table where no guest or servant would hear their conversation. “What? Fi!” Kili whined. “What do you have to say that’s so secret even the desserts can’t overhear?”

Fili sucked in a breath. “I… I love her. I love (Y/N).”

Kili’s eyes blew wide. “What? You do? That’s great! I…” his entire face fell. “I didn’t know. Fi, I didn’t know or I would never have pulled her into this fake courting thing. I’m so sorry, brother. I didn’t mean to-”

Fili shook his head and set a hand on Kili’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Ki. I’m not angry with you. If anything, I’m angry at myself for taking this long to say it out loud.”

“Now that you have, you have to tell her,” Kili said. Fili’s face scrunched and he shook his head, but Kili wouldn’t let him speak. “Ask her to dance. Fi, you’re the best dancer I know! Go sweep her off her feet.”

Fili looked over his brother’s shoulder. Thorin had kissed (Y/N)’s hand and she was making her way back to them. “(Y/N) is not that simple. It would take much more than dancing to make her fall in love with me.”

“But it’s a start,” Kili said.

Fili nodded. “I’ll return shortly. Don’t let her leave.”

He spun and ran down the stairs to the floor where the musicians were huddled, deciding what to play next. Fili nodded his head to the smiling dwarfs he passed, pushing his robes down as they fanned out with his speed. He whispered in the lead musician’s ear and shook his hand before climbing back to the high table.

“I love these things!” he heard (Y/N) sing as he neared her. “They’re delicious! Who brought a whole tray? Fi, did you do this?”

He smirked and reached out his hand. “Come with me.”

“But-but the cream balls-”

“Will still be here when you return,” he said as she reluctantly took his hand.

As he pulled her away, she wagged a finger at Kili. “Those are mine. Every single one of them. I know how many are there! I will know if you take one!”

Fili couldn’t help but roll his eyes. On the bright side, he thought, if things didn’t go well between them, he’d know how to win her forgiveness.

He led her to the center of the floor and nodded to the musician he’d spoken to. Loud, soaring music boomed around him, but it didn’t drown out the raucous beating of his own heart. He pulled at his robes, pulling the fabric taught and defining his strong, sharp shoulders. After a deep breath, he asked (Y/N) if he could have this dance.

She squinted at him above a growing smile. “I thought you didn’t dance at these things.” But she laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I do when I have the right partner.” He took a firm hold of her, wrapping his arm around her waist until his hand could spread against the center of her back. His other hand was tucked behind himself.

She lifted her skirts. “In that case, I’m honored.”

After she spoke, the music settled into the number Fili had asked specifically for. The strings seemed to bounce as the couples around them prepared.

“The Waltz!” (Y/N) said. “This is my favorite.”

“You don’t say?” He began rocking her side to side on the beat, also deciding this dance was his favorite. He’d have her all to himself.

The beginning of the dance didn’t call for much movement on his part, but he was fully aware he’d get his chance later. Now, he simply watched (Y/N), leading her and assisting her as she circled around him, never letting go of his hand. She spun about, to his left then his right. Each time, her skirts spread out flat and caressed his legs until she returned to him.

After her last turn, he took her hand and pulled her into his embrace, his arm again wrapping around her back and his other fingers tangling in hers as she let her skirts drop. His motion was so smooth, so technically correct, it made (Y/N) float into his arms. He smiled, feeling her breath catch and then release with a shaky exhale.

Now it was his turn.

He led her across the floor effortlessly. He weaved in and out of other couples, constantly turning, but the only dizzying effect was (Y/N) herself. The warm light of the chandeliers above danced in her bright eyes and sent colors to her hair even the sunlight didn’t bring out. His feet swept the tiles as hers drifted over them, barely making contact with the speed Fili was carrying her. She trusted him completely. He was the rock in the middle of her wild ocean of skirts and shy smiles.

His chest felt tighter than ever, but instead of being filled with fear or envy, he was now filled with joy and pride. If every candle was blown out at this moment, his beaming grin would release enough light to continue the Waltz. As long as she was in his arms, he could do anything.

But of course, it all ended too soon. The music died and all came still. Those around them were applauding loudly, not for the musicians, but for the dancing prince. (Y/N) let out a breathless laugh. “You’re a marvelous dancer, Fi,” she said. For the first time since Fili had met her, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Are you all right? Did- did I go too fast?”

“Oh, no! You were… it was perfect.”

“You’re the one who was-”

“But I must return to Kili. And you, I see, have another dance partner waiting,” she said, referring to Princess Mevine who was never too far from Fili. “You could steal her heart with just one dance.”

“My heart is already taken,” Fili said.

“It is?”

He smiled at her, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Come with me?” he asked. When she nodded, he led her out into the corridors, which were drafty compared to the stifled Grand Hall. He untied his robe and set it on her shoulders, waving away her chorus of protests. They were completely alone. The entire kingdom was inside while they’d stolen away. The music echoing from the doors made his courage swell. He lifted her chin. “My heart is already taken.”

“That’s wonderful, Fili. By who?”

He breathed out a laugh. He felt her fingers trembling in his and wondered if it was from the sudden cold or from nerves. “Since we’ve known each other, you’ve been able to read my mind. Can’t you do so now?”

“I-I didn’t want to assume.” His warm stare urged her to say more. “I didn’t want to assume that just because I loved you that-that you felt the same.”

His stomach shot into his throat and for the second time that night, he couldn’t perceive what she’d said. So, he whispered, “I do love you.”

The force of her embrace knocked him back a few steps. She hugged him fiercely, wrapping her arms around his neck and gluing her cheek to his hair. “I love you too, Fi,” she said. He felt her breath hitch in her chest as he returned her affection. Then he set her down and kissed her as he’d been dreaming of doing all night and for many nights previous.

When he pulled away, he didn’t expect to see the quizzical look she was giving him. “What is it?”

Her hands slid down his chest. “Have you been eating my cream balls?” She pushed him softly and laughed as he rolled his eyes.

“Maybe. Should you steal another taste just to be sure?”

“Maybe,” she muttered before kissing him again. She hummed happily and kissed his cheek as well before she pulled away completely.

“We should return before Kili eats all of your treats,” Fili said.

“And before Thorin notices I’ve run off with the wrong nephew.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her back to the doors of the Grand Hall, shaking his head. “This is the last night Uncle will stand in the way of love. His way of thinking will soon push Kili away.”

As the doors opened, Fili’s gaze went straight to the high table. Thorin had his nephew in a tight hug, slapping his shoulder with affectionate, but loud whacks. Their foreheads met and they shook hands.

“It may not be a problem after all,” (Y/N) said, curling into Fili’s side as he led to the high table and fed her a cream ball.

Taglist! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel @fizzyxcustard @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld @dashesofink @teagarages @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af @winchesterandpie

479 notes · View notes

stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 5 years

Text

An Unexpected Accident

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Gender Neutral!Reader

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Reader, Alfred Pennyworth

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: Car accident but mostly cheesy fluff

Summary: It’s two weeks before Christmas, and helping a stranger after a car accident leads to some unexpected events

A/N: This is just a short little thing that came from nowhere. Not written with any particular version of Bruce in mind.

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. One moment you were driving home from work, carefully, listening to one of the many Christmas songs that had been playing on the radio as you went, the next, something was slamming into you. The force of the impact sent the car spinning, skidding across the icy roads at dangerous speeds. You tried, in vain, to get the vehicle under control, but it was hopeless. Another car hit. And another. There were others, in the background, you could hear the collisions, the screams, the shouts.

A final impact and everything went black.

You groaned groggily as you came to. You ached all over. You shivered. It was freezing. It took effort to raise your head, but slowly you managed to do so. The windshield was shattered, glass and falling snow coating the dashboard. Another time and it would’ve looked pretty. You looked through the hole. A streetlight had finally halted you it seemed. What was left of the front of your car was wrapped around it.

Fuck, you’d gotten lucky.

But you needed to get out.

Fumbling with the buckle of your belt, fingers feeling heavy and clumsy, and thankfully it popped loose. The door the passenger’s side was crumpled in, but somehow your side was still intact, and you managed to scramble out.

You’d gotten very lucky.

You took a second, to just breathe and squash the need to vomit, then straightened up and looked around.

It was absolute carnage.

There must’ve been nearly a dozen cars. Some near on top of each other. Some in far worse shape than your own. People were everywhere. Some clearing the area, a couple were on phones, and you could hear sirens in the distance.

You moved slowly, still not entirely sure how the hell you’d survived or how it hadn’t been so much worse.

A woman screamed and pointed. Thick smoke was starting to plume up from one of the cars, dark and heavy. There was someone still inside it. A man. He wasn’t moving. Everyone was running away.

Damn it.

You ran towards the car, feet skittering over patches of ice, but somehow managing to remain upright. You reached the car, jerking at the handle of the door until it burst open suddenly enough to nearly send you flying backward.

“Hey!” You shouted, leaning in to shake the older man’s shoulder. He groaned but didn’t respond otherwise. There was blood trickling down from his hairline. The smoke was getting worse, trying it’s best to choke you. “I’m getting you out,” you said between coughs, hoping he could hear you.

Reaching in over him, you managed to pop his belt and free him. You draped one arm over your shoulders, holding onto him tightly as you pulled him free of the car. He managed to support some of his own weight, but not much, leaving you to nearly drag him away out of the smoke and to the safety of the sidewalk.

You set him down carefully on a mostly snow-free patch, quickly removing the winter coat you were wearing and wrapping it around his fancy looking suit instead. The cold hit you immediately, even worse than before, but he needed it more. He looked to be pretty elderly, and he was hurt worse than you, keeping him warm was more important.

“Ambulances will be here soon. They’ll get you right in no time,” you told him, mostly just to fill the quiet. There were still people around you, but they were mostly too focused on themselves. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Al-Alfred…” He mumbled, opening his eyes and looking up at you for a split second before wincing and closing them again. “Thank...you…”

“It’s okay. Save your strength.” Alfred didn’t say anymore, but you kept talking to him, about nothing really, but it passed the long couple of minutes until firetrucks and paramedics flooded the scene, and whisked you both off in different directions to get aid.

You hoped he’d be okay.

You asked about him at the hospital, but no one was able to tell you anything. Casualties had been taken to a couple different hospitals though, so you weren't too surprised. Still, you were disappointed. As for yourself, you'd somehow managed to walk away with just a few scrapes, and a hell of a bruise across your chest from the seat belt.

You were sent home the next morning, and a couple of days later business resumed as normal for you.

It was a week later, near the end of the workday when a whispered commotion started to spread through your office floor. Bruce Wayne was in the building and no one knew why.

You were less fazed than some. It wasn't that you didn't like him, far from it. His charity efforts alone made you respect him. You just didn't feel the urge to swoon and dote like some.

So when the elevator pinged open, and the manager’s assistant pointed in the direction of your desk, it was a surprise for everyone.

Everyone stayed calm, pretending to carry on working but continued to watch from the corner of their eyes as he walked over, exuding the confidence he always seemed to have.

“Y/N Y/L/N?"

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Bruce Wayne." He extended a hand which you shook.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Wayne?" Though what that could be, you didn't know. Your company had next to nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises, and even if it did, there'd be no reason for Bruce Wayne of all people to need to speak to you.

"No, no, nothing like that. Is there somewhere we could speak more privately?"

"Uhh yeah, this way." You led him to one of the smaller offices on the floor, closing the door behind you both.

Bruce sat in one of the chairs, setting the plain bag he had with him on the floor, and motioning for you to take the one next to him. "Sorry for the mystery, I just prefer to talk one on one."

You nodded again, "Talk about what exactly?"

"Last week. I wanted to thank you for what you did, face to face."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"The man you saved, Alfred, he's my butler."

Oh. "Is he okay? I think we were taken to different hospitals."

Bruce smiled, "He's fine. A few stitches and a little shaken, but he'll be okay. Thanks to you."

"I didn't do anything special. Anyone would've done the same."

"Except they didn't. You were hurt and you still took the time to help someone else. A lot would call that being a hero."

You laughed at that, nervously. It was from the way Bruce was looking at you than anything. It was like he could see what you were thinking. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Alfred’s family. I would certainly go that far."

"You make it sound like I'm Batman or something."

Bruce chuckled and shrugged, "I think he'd agree that you share similar qualities."

That made you blush. "I...thank you."

He smiled again, warmly, and reached down to slide the bag over to you. "Also wanted to return your coat."

"Thanks." You took the bag and pulled out your coat, only, "This is isn't my coat. The same color, yeah, but it's lacking the hole in the pocket, and going by this label probably cost five times mine did."

Bruce shrugged, "Huh, must be magic."

Tucking the coat back away, you shook your head, "I can't accept this, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce, please, and I insist. It's the least I can do."

You went to protest more, but a raised eyebrow stopped you. "It's beautiful, I appreciate it."

"Of course." He started to say more, but a chime from his phone halted him. He looked at it, the screen lighting his face, then tucked it away back in his jacket pocket. "Business calls, I'm afraid."

You stood with Bruce, shaking his hand again, not failing to notice that he seemed to hold on a couple of seconds longer than was necessary. "Thank you for coming. I'm glad to know he's okay."

Another warm smile and then he was at the door, hand on the handle. Before he opened it, he paused and turned to look back to you. "Don't suppose I could convince you into letting me take you out to dinner?"

"I think the coat was more than enough as thanks."

"Not as thanks."

"Then as what?"

"A date?"

"I-" Bruce Wayne wanted to take you on a date. That…was unexpected. You knew his reputation, but for whatever reason, you weren't getting the vibe that he was only asking to get you into bed.

"C'mon. I know a place that's been doing dinner and a show for Christmas. Gotten great reviews."

Fuck it, what did you have to lose? "That...sounds lovely. I'd like that."

The pleased look was definitely genuine. He pulled out his phone and passed it to you so you could enter your number. "I'll call and let you know the details," he said, taking it back once you were done. "I'll look forward to it."

"So will I."

And then he was kissing your cheek, and for a moment you lost the ability to think coherently. Okay so maybe you were more attracted to him than you'd let yourself imagine.

"See you soon," Bruce said, opening the door.

"Bye." You waited for the door to close again, before sinking back into the seat, thankful that the blinds looking out onto the floor were closed so no one could see you.

That was not how you'd expected the day to go, but you weren't complaining. Had you gotten caught up in his charm? Maybe. But it didn't feel that way. It felt like Bruce actually saw something in you that he liked, and that…that felt good. Not that you'd ever admit it to anyone.

You garnered up your strength and exited the office, ignoring the looks you got off the others. Your cellphone pinged just as you reached the desk. It was from Bruce, giving you his number in return.

It crossed your mind that you needed to ask him how he'd even found you. You'd been so swept up in his presence that it hadn't even occurred to you to ask. He must've pulled some long strings. You could find out on your date.

Your date.

With Bruce Wayne.

You smiled.

This was going to be a pretty good Christmas.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman imagine #batman one shot #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne one shot #dc imagine #dc one shot

288 notes · View notes