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beewolfwrites · 1 year

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An Iron Box - A Mind Bewitched

Thank you all for being so patient! I’m still not 100% but by next week things should be back to normal :)

The AO3 link is here.

I hope you enjoy!

Edit: Sorry guys, I realised too late that Tumblr got rid of all my italics and formatting. I’ve fixed it now.

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I had never been particularly concerned with my appearance. However, even I was glad to change out of my singed swimwear. Those awful shorts hadn’t been my first choice, although it was a shame about my hoodie. I had grown quite attached to it.

Now cleaner, and dressed in actual clothes like a sane human being, I was reclining on the couch in our “living room” while Kuina and (name) made a cacophony of noise in the tiny staff kitchen. What had started as a decision to make dinner together now resulted in an orchestra of pots and pans, miscellaneous clatters and the clack of cutlery on the tile floor.

I busied myself with the tiny map of the subway station. This scrap of paper would lead me to the answers I craved, but which station would be best to enter through? If the small hole in the paper marked out a den, then it had to be somewhere hidden along the tracks instead of at a station entrance where players could easily discover it.

But which station?

My thoughts were interrupted by a particularly loud clatter. The door opened and (name) appeared, carrying two steaming bowls with spoons inside. (Name) handed me one of the bowls, which contained a hearty-looking vegetable stew, and sat on the other end of the couch whilst Kuina plopped down in an armchair, a third bowl in her lap. Kuina immediately spooned some of the stew into her mouth, only to spit it back into the bowl.

‘Argh!’ She fanned her tongue with her hand. ‘It’s so hot!’

‘I would never have guessed by the steam,’ I said, setting down my spoon to let the stew cool for a while.

Kuina prodded the chewed mush in her bowl, and I was mildly perturbed by the fact that she still planned on eating it. Ever the dramatic, she felt around her mouth with a finger. ‘I think I’ve scalded my gums.’

‘What a surprise.’

Her eyes narrowed and she placed her bowl on a side table. ‘What’s got your boxers in a twist? You’re even more sarcastic than usual.’

The comment was so stupid, it didn’t even deserve a response. Finally lifting a spoonful of stew to my lips, I blew on it before eating. And within one bite, I knew that Kuina couldn’t possibly have cooked this. I had tasted her experiments before, and it was a mistake I had no intention of ever repeating.

‘It’s good,’ I said to (name).

She smiled quietly, cradling her warm bowl close to her body. ‘It’s nothing much. Just something I threw together.’

We ate quietly, leaving the cutlery on the coffee table to be cleaned up later. However, as the sun set and the sky darkened, it became a little too quiet. Something had changed. The city beyond the window was swept in shadows with no sign of life. And no games.

‘What d’you think will happen when our visas run out?’ Kuina asked, staring out at the empty apartment blocks and offices.

‘It probably has something to do with the Ten of Hearts,’ (name) replied. ‘Maybe there’s no need for games anymore, since we’ve got all the numbered cards.’

The change was definitely due to the Ten of Hearts, which only confirmed at least part of Hatter’s original theory. Even if the cards didn’t send one person home - which I knew already - perhaps collecting them had been a trial. The deck lay heavy in my pocket, carrying so much weight for just a simple pack of cards. Whoever was running these games had been working quietly behind the scenes so far. Now, what would they do?

What are they thinking?

The night stretched on, and although I was occupied with studying my paper map to work out the best route to take, I began to notice Kuina’s futile attempts at hiding her yawns behind her hand. (Name) was curled up on the other end of the couch, her eyes closed in restfulness. Between them, it was Kuina who gave into exhaustion first and headed off to bed. With a not-so-subtle wink, she disappeared upstairs.

And naturally, in Kuina’s absence, (name) slid along the couch until she was pressed into my side, her face angled over my shoulder to see the map in my hand. Heat radiated from her body, her arm and thigh brushing against mine. She was far too close for comfort, but surprisingly, I didn’t hate it.

She leaned in closer, if such a thing was possible. ‘Isn’t that…’

‘Ah.’ She remembered well. ‘I took it from the tagger’s pocket.’

‘What is it?’

‘Well, I have an idea.’

Sluggish, she leaned her head against my shoulder, and I couldn’t help but tense under the unfamiliar weight. The sweet scent of her hair overwhelmed my senses. She smelled like flowers and fresh air.

‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’ She murmured, yawning into her palm.

‘And if I don’t want to?’

It’s more fun if you work it out.

She snuggled into my cardigan, perhaps enjoying the softness. ‘Then I’ll just stay here and annoy you until your visa runs out.’

I could think of worse ways to die. However, her words had reminded me.

Our visas.

Once again, I looked out of the window. Midnight had passed several minutes ago, yet nothing had changed. There were no games, and no lasers. ‘I have a feeling that won’t happen anytime soon.’ I felt (name) twitch by my side, perhaps unsettled by this new change. However, if we were to find out what it meant, we needed to find the dealer’s den. ‘I believe it’s a map.’

‘And that hole in the paper,’ she replied. ‘Do you think that’s where the others are? The dealers, I mean.’

My shoulder was beginning to ache, and I shifted a little to the side to ease the pressure. If I asked her to move, she would probably misconstrue it in some way or another, and I would have Kuina nagging at me tomorrow. However, the pressure lifted itself away as (name) sat upright. She leaned closer to the map, analysing the entangled scribbles, then uttered two words.

‘The subway…’

Clever girl.

I couldn’t help but smile. ‘I went to the nearest subway station this morning to check it against the real map. It’s a loose fit, but it works.’

She looked at the map with intrigue. ‘Maybe if we find the place, we’ll get some answers.’

‘Probably. But I’m curious to see if anything changes within the next few days.’

She yawned into her hand again. ‘Do you think we’ll hear something soon?’

Even if we did, you’d sleep through it at this rate.

With her half-lidded eyes and dusty pink cheeks, she was at risk of falling asleep right here on top of me. ‘I believe we will,’ I told her. ‘But right now, I think you should go to sleep.’

She didn’t protest when I detangled myself from her hold. Or at least, she didn’t have the energy to. And personally, I didn’t have the energy to protest about her crawling straight into my bed instead of her own. I kept plenty of distance between us, in case she become too excited and start crossing all kinds of boundaries. However, I had to admit, I found peace in watching the stresses and lines of her face relax as she sank deeper into sleep. She often slept flat on her back, head lolling to the side and hair splayed out over the pillow. Then - and only then - would I allow my hand to touch the glossy ends of her locks. The colour and texture was unlike anything I had experienced here in Japan. Perhaps that was the only reason I was drawn to it.

Yet as I ran my fingers through the soft silk, I realised there was something comforting about it. About her presence. It soothed that hollow ache deep inside.

_________________________________________________

Minami-Aoyama station.

It had taken a little while to work out the subway station that would direct us to the mysterious hole in the map. However, this was it. The three of us were standing at the top of the staircase leading down into the platform, Kuina and (name) peering into the darkness with uncertainty.

When I looked into those black depths, I felt a rush. A thrill. A new piece of the puzzle was finally within my reach. Hands in my pockets, I fingered the deck of cards.

Almost...

‘Are you sure this is it?’

Kuina had asked the same question three times now, and I was beginning to wonder if she had short-circuited. (Name) looked at the route map printed over the station entrance.

‘Positive,’ she said.

Kuina pursed her lips. Then folding her arms, she began to descend the staircase. I felt around in my pocket for a small torch, which I had found in a toolbox in a storage cupboard. Flicking on the beam, I followed after Kuina, whilst (name) began to trail behind me. Checking the paper map against the direction of each rail-line, I directed them towards the correct platform.

‘This way.’

It was a steep drop onto the train tracks, however in the thick darkness that engulfed the tunnel, the torch became our only guiding light. I shone the beam on the tracks, the three of us trudging through the gravel in pensive silence, wary of stumbling upon something we shouldn’t — a trap, perhaps. Some form of deterrent to kill or keep players from discovering this hideout. We walked on, and I occasionally lifted the beam, shining it on the tunnel walls.

It should be around here somewhere.

And there it was. By chance, the edge of the beam caught the metal of a door. The door was cracked open, and there was a panel with a keypad on the wall beside it. Presumably, the dealers had needed to enter a passcode to enter, which would explain the lack of traps. But if that was the case…

Why is the door open?

I stopped. Directly behind me, (Name) skidded on the gravel, her hand fisting the back of my cardigan to keep from running straight into me. I raised the beam, revealing the door in full.

‘That must be it.’ Kuina's whisper echoed through the tunnel.

I didn’t hesitate, approaching the door and walking straight through into what appeared to be a dark, concrete walkway. The air was cold, and there was a mustiness that cloyed at my throat and lungs with every intake of breath. Hearing scuffles and curses from back in the tunnel, I paused, shining my torch at the doorway. Kuina and (Name) emerged, flustered and rubbing at their elbows. If they found it this difficult to walk through a door, it was truly a wonder that they had survived so many Spades games.

Kuina caught my eye, glaring daggers at me. ‘Hey! Don’t do that again! You’re the only one with a light here.’

‘Walk faster then,’ I said as they caught up. I smiled as (name) muttered a string of profanities under her breath, some too explicit to translate for Kuina.

However, my smile disappeared as I turned the beam down the walkway. Something glistened in the blackness. The other two froze, having also noticed it. I followed the walkway, keeping my eye on this mysterious glimmer, a reflection of sorts, growing larger and larger, increasing in number as we approached what appeared to be a large structure.

Well, this is more interesting than I had thought.

The structure consisted of endless television screens, running right up to the ceiling in rows and columns, curving around one another to create several large watch-rooms. Wires and cables hung across the ceiling like vines. Small concrete tunnels ran between each watch-room joined them together in a network.

We walked closer, entering one of the tunnels that led into a central watch-room. I could feel (name) hovering by my side, her breath ragged with anxiety. It was silly. She had nothing to fear whatsoever. Because inside, the watch-room was set up like an office, filled with desks, chairs, papers strewn here and there, used mugs, snacks, pinboards of post-its, and more notably, bodies.

There were bodies everywhere.

They were hunched over desks, sprawled across the floor, limp in chairs. But there was something rather curious about these bodies. A pattern, so to speak. Their heads bore the same singed holes running from head to chin, their eyes bloodshot. Every single person in the room had been struck by a laser.

So this is the game we’re playing, hm?

(Name) squatted down, her hand hovering over the body of a man in a suit. ‘What… is this?’

This is the game-master’s handiwork.

She inspected the charred hole in the man’s crown. ‘They’re not the ones in charge of the game.’

My eyes caught sight of something rather familiar tucked underneath a pen pot. A scrap of paper. Pulling it out, I read through the notes. It was filled with roman numerals, all written in different colours of pen, some ticked off. A visa tally.

I passed it to (name). ‘Evidently not.’

She scanned the paper, her eyes widening as she realised exactly what she was looking at. Her expression was one of disgust, and she tossed it back on the desk.

‘So, these guys were the dealers.’ Kuina held up a piece of paper for us to see. It was covered in numbers and scribbles. I picked out some rather interesting looking nicknames - “girl in blue hoodie”, “fat dude”, “baldy” - along with some items like shampoo, chicken wings, and cookies. Items that held value in a world without currency. In other words… ‘They were betting on us,’ Kuina said.

Well, at least they knew how to have fun.

Personally, the thought didn’t bother me. In a place like this, it was only natural for people to try and make the best of a bad situation. Coping mechanisms were strangely fascinating. However, (name’s) coping mechanisms were clearly failing her. She was shaking lightly, and her eyes roved over the pieces of paper dotted around the room with a disturbed horror as she came the the very same conclusion I had. That their visas were tied to the number of deaths in each game. Even by surviving alone, we had potentially caused a person’s death. I stepped out from behind her, tracing my fingertip against the goosebumps on the back of her arm.

‘Momoka’s friend,’ she said, ‘she died right after she told everyone she was a dealer. And the taggers died because we won. I have a feeling their visas depended on whether or not we cleared each game… or maybe how many people didn’t make it.’

‘It doesn’t explain why they’re all dead now.’

She winced slightly, casting her eyes over the bodies around us. ‘Actually, I have a bad feeling about that too.’

Before she could speak further, something echoed from back at the walkway entrance.

Footsteps.

Without thinking, my thumb slid over the switch of the torch, plunging us into darkness once more. I grabbed (name) by the wrist and pulled her into the small tunnel at the back of the watch-room. Kuina skidded inside, hiding in the shadows behind us.

I kept my eyes trained on the original tunnel we had entered through, listening carefully to the clap of footsteps as two torch beams swung in different directions. This was more than one person. But who? Somewhere in the darkness just outside the watch-room, a voice echoed.

‘Where is this place?’

‘Who knows?’

Oh? I’m impressed.

Two figures emerged through the entrance, two faces I didn’t expect in a place like this. That was my mistake. I should have realised sooner. In spite of his clueless appearance, Arisu did have a knack for solving puzzles. Arisu and Usagi hesitantly looked over the room, taking in the televisions, the bodies, the laser wounds. Arisu looked better, less bruised, and no longer dribbling blood and spreading sentimentality like a saint. Beside me, (name) sighed in relief. I brushed past her and stepped into the watch-room once more.

‘You actually found this place. As expected from someone I have high hopes for.’

Kuina walked around the room before leaning against one of the walls. ‘We meet again,’ she said with a nod.

Instead of addressing me or Kuina, the two peered over my shoulder, frowning in confusion. I glanced behind me where (name), awkward as ever, was grimacing with a little wave of her fingers. Idiot. She was probably still embarrassed by the whole stealing-the-cards ordeal.

What’s done is done.

‘You guys,’ Usagi whispered warily. Clearly she didn’t share the same sentiment.

Pulling the deck of cards from my pocket, I attempted to diffuse the tension. ‘Thanks to you guys, I have all the playing cards with me.’ I smiled as politely as I could. ‘Thank you.’

Usagi blinked in disbelief. Meanwhile, Arisu actually had his priorities straight. ‘How did you discover this place?’ He asked.

I took the scrap of paper from my pocket and held it open. ‘It took me some time to realise this is actually a map. The route map of the subway.’ Sliding it back into my pocket, I strolled around the desks. ‘As for what happens when we collect the cards… I thought I would know the answer if I came here.’ I caught (name’s) eye across the room. ‘But there’s something else we discovered instead.’

Arisu seemed to be entranced by the number of bodies around us. ‘They’re not the gamemasters.’

(Name) stepped over an arm as she crossed the room. ‘Because we collected the cards, they were all killed.’ I could see her struggling to form the right grammar. I had almost forgotten how patchwork her Japanese was. ‘There must be someone above them,’ she added in English, looking pointedly at me for help.

Unamused, I translated on her behalf, and Usagi frowned deeply. ‘But who?’

I shrugged. There were a number of possibilities. ‘Who knows? They might be aliens.’ From the corner of my eye, I saw Arisu’s skeptical face. I turned to him, perfectly serious. ‘Or even God.’

Suddenly, a screen blinked.

The watch-room lit up as every screen in the room flickered to life, glaring a bright white. (Name) flocked to my side. Music - trumpets - echoed from an unknown source, and in the centre of the room, the televisions displayed the four card suits along with the words “Special Urgent Broadcast”.

And who exactly is broadcasting this, I wonder.

‘Congratulations to all players!’

My curiosity was quelled instantly. Emerging through the speakers, that tinny yet familiar voice answered almost every question I had. I was pleasantly surprised.

I have to say, you had me fooled…

Stretched across the televisions before us, Mira’s enthusiastic features came into view one by one, blurring then focusing to reveal her dark attire, her long hair, and a curious glint in her beady eyes. So she was the spy at the Beach. The one who switched off the generators, who organised the Witch Hunt, who had been keeping an eye on our “utopia” from the inside all along.

But that also meant…

The Eight of Diamonds - Open Market. Back then, the game had taken me off-guard. The decision to place me in the jewellery store, and the answer to the final question. Had Mira been watching the two of all along?

‘How interesting,’ I mused. What exactly would she get out of toying with us?

Cold fingers brushed my wrist as (name) slipped her hand into my pocket. I was acutely aware of Arisu and Usagi’s presence, but since they were more concerned with the disjointed image of Mira before us, I allowed her this. I laced my fingers around hers, brushing my thumb against the smoothness of her skin.

Mira was quivering with excitement. ‘With the exception of the face cards,’ she said, ‘you’ve cleared the numbered games and emerged as victors. It’s a sweet victory, gained by sacrificing so many lives.’ She stood up, as if locked in a trance. ‘I wonder, how many of your comrades have died. Try remembering those who were shot dead with guns.’

One of the screens changed, playing game footage of a group standing around. They were gripping guns close to their chests as they inspected a pile of bodies on the floor, nudging them with their feet.

‘And that girl you burned alive,’ Mira added. Another television screen showed a large billowing flame, which upon closer inspection, was actually a girl waving her arms wildly as her body drowned in embers.

Perhaps they didn’t have footage of Niragi.

‘Those struck by lasers, and those that drowned.’

(Name’s) hand tightened around mine. I followed her glassy stare to a television screen directly across from us, where I instantly recognised the furniture store. But this time, it was different. A table and chairs were fixed in the centre of the room, where two men leapt from their seats. At that same moment, lasers pierced them where they stood, and their bodies tumbled to the ground. And there she was, doe eyed and trembling.

Your first game…

It was a game of “Rummy”, if I remembered correctly. I squeezed her hand in return, and she eased the pressure a little.

Oblivious, Mira continued in her wistful dream. ‘Those whose heads were blown off,’ she mused. ‘Those comrades of yours, the despair you’ve felt so far, and those dying moment you’ll never forget.’

A number of screens changed at once, each displaying various game footage. In one, I noticed Arisu’s former friend. His partner with the Hawaiian shirt and blond hair who had joined him in the Tag game. In this, he was surrounded by botanical plants, his head lolling as his collar exploded in a spray of blood.

The screens changed one by one, alternating between various games, various deaths. Meanwhile, Mira’s face cracked into a delighted grin. ‘Everyone,’ she breathed, clutching her heart. ‘I’m so touched!’ She hesitated, smirking with mischief. ‘All of you players, we’d like to give you a present.’

Hm? There must be more of you.

But just how many more? Were there other spies in the Beach? It was a small slip, but it raised another bout of questions. And as (name) had stiffened slightly, I knew that she had caught it too.

‘Are you returning us to the real world? Kuina asked, hopefully.

Mira clapped her hands together, shaking with barely restrained mania. ‘There will be new games! Let’s play more games together and fight for the face cards this time!’

The face cards. It was a little too predictable, even for my tastes. And naturally, these new games would be even more challenging. But there was a matter of numbers. Since there were twelve face cards in total, did that mean we would enter regular games without knowing the rules, suit, or difficulty, and have to collect cards in the usual way? Or were there only twelve games to complete?

‘New games?’ Kuina scoffed. ‘You’re kidding.’

New games… new challenges… twelve new puzzles to solve.

‘I don’t dislike the idea,’ I muttered.

Immediately, (name) drew back a little. ‘What do you mean?’

Someone like you wouldn’t understand.

I met her eye, holding back the very comment that had run through my mind. It would only end with yet another argument.

Mira continued, cordial and vibrant. ‘The next stage will commence tomorrow at noon. Everyone, let’s have fun together!’

And as if someone had pulled a plug, the televisions shut down in unison, the watch-room slipping into blackness once more. Nobody spoke for a long moment, even to address what we had just witnessed, and it was Arisu who eventually decided that it would be best to leave. Kuina followed him, along with Usagi, leaving (name) and I in the empty watch-room.

She was still gripping my hand in the warmth of my pocket. I didn’t pull mine away, nor did I try to explain what I had said earlier. Finally, after a moment of tense silence, she spoke.

‘These games, they’re going to be harder than the others.’

There was no point in denying it. After a silence, I replied with, ‘Probably.’

‘About what you said before,’ she whispered. ‘Do you remember that time on the rooftop of the Beach, when I asked you if you were okay, and you told me it shouldn’t matter to me?’

Back then…

It was right after the Hunting Season game, the measly Two of Spades that had left me with a gash in my side. All that time ago, and yet she still hadn’t learned her lesson. She should have been more concerned with her own safety. But it wasn’t worth the lecture now.

‘I remember.’

‘What I said then still stands. You might not care about your own life, and I can’t stop you from taking part in these new games.’ She chewed on her lip, her eyes welling up. ‘Perhaps this is selfish of me, but you need to survive. And if you can’t do it for yourself, then…’ she trailed off.

I had heard enough. ‘You cry too much,’ I said. Her affection was better spent on Kuina, or even Arisu and Usagi. It was wasted on this empty shell of a human being. But that was a conversation for another day. ‘We should find the others.’

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and released my hand at last. We walked back through the tunnels, emerging from the station steps into the bright sunshine of Tokyo where the others were standing out in the open, squinting up at the sky. A series of bangs crackled through the air, as fireworks exploded into red, purple and green flowers that sizzled against the skyline.

Fireworks.

Where had I last seen fireworks? I pushed away the thought, watching the display with no particular interest. Things like fireworks had never excited me. Nothing much did. And yet, here I was, craving the lost warmth of her fingers once more. How was it that someone so hopelessly naive could bewitch my mind in its entirety? Dredging this box from the seabed with her presence alone — a train whistle with the power to break through iron.

‘Let’s make a new deal,’ I said. ‘I’ll survive, if you return the favour.’

I could feel her eyes on me, and I knew that she was smiling, just like she always did when she was truly at peace.

‘It’s a deal.’

#alice in borderland #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader #chishiya x oc

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itsblissfuloblivion · 3 years

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Prompt #69 for @clarensjoy‘s Hinny FicFest 2021: "His pickup line wasn't as good as mine. Just saying"

Ao3 // FFnet

hey, tis us, last kids joining the party. hopefully it’s still alright!

It’s a Tuesday, so the din of the pub is a bit muted in comparison. Loud and full enough that nobody will get ideas about getting to know their table neighbours, but quiet enough that you don’t have to shout to be heard. Harry’s boot sticks to the floor as he steps inside and for a moment he’s about to let loose some colourful swears about arseholes who don’t understand that spent gum belongs in a bin, but his attention is quickly pulled away by another arsehole at the bar trying to flex his flirtation muscles.

If Harry reads the bloke’s mark’s facial expression correctly, said flex has been wholly unsuccessful so far. And Harry’s made his own study of the current focus of said bloke, since Sixth Year in fact, so Harry’s comfortable saying he’s something of an expert on Ginny Weasley.

Slowly - with a slight drag on his gummed left heel - Harry picks his way through the shadowy bits of the pub towards Ginny as she continues her valiant attempt to scan the menu. Soon, Harry’s close enough to join Ginny’s ‘enjoyment’ of her current companion.

The bloke is mid-build, just shy of Harry’s height, and almost as into his boy band hair as he is to excessive use of perfume. Things he apparently is not into include reading body language, accepting personal space boundaries, and wearing hats correctly. Harry winces - half for Ginny’s nose and half for whatever this stranger is about to have done to him - when Perfume Lover leans in closer to Ginny. “Hello, beautiful! No need to check that out, I already know what’s on the menu - me ‘n’ you.”

Harry’s suppressing his snort, and a bit of horror, at the line when Ginny leans in close, eyes sharp. If Boy Band knew what was good for him, he’d pay more attention to Ginny’s blood thirsty look than the fact that she’s drawing close. But honestly, Harry can’t fault him too much - for getting distracted that is - because one whiff of her hair and the simple warmth of her as she draws near still sends Harry’s heart pounding. That’s about where Harry’s ability to relate to Ball Cap begins and ends.

As expected, the content of Ginny’s low whisper is less ‘want to get out of here’ and more ‘guts for garters’ because the pick up artist is soon backing away with a shocked expression, stumbling over barstools and an innocent busboy.

With a grin, Harry steadies the busboy on his feet and swipes a paper napkin to drag the bulk of the gum from his boot. He doesn’t break stride as he tosses the napkin in a bin and makes his way towards Ginny, who has returned her attention to the menu and the tiny red straw between her lips.

Somehow, he doesn’t end up sprawled on the floor when she twirls it, or when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, or even when the waitress returns with a new drink. Instead, he keeps pace to end up with one arm draped around Ginny’s shoulders just as she’s left alone at the high top table. “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?”

Ginny snorts, nose crinkling as she stabs at the ice with her straw. “Reckon I’m sticking with the other bloke tonight.”

Harry frowns even as he claims the free stool closest to Ginny. “His pickup line wasn’t as good as mine,” he swipes her drink, ignoring her indignant ‘Oi!’ and takes a sip, “Just saying.”

“How about get your own drink, Mr. Just Saying?” Ginny grumbles, though the blow of her grousing is softened by the quick press of her lips to his.

“I can’t decide between the burger and the stew.”

Harry raises his hand in the hopes of beckoning someone with relevant resources to bring him a pint. He receives a nod from behind the bar and soon turns his attention back to Ginny. “Is the new Firebolt nearby?”

Ginny tears her eyes away from the menu. “Pardon? No - we’re on the Cleansweep - ”

“Oh,” Harry shakes his head, “Must’ve just been my heart taking off.”

“If you promise to shut up I’ll do that thing you like so much,” Ginny manages to mutter with a roll of her eyes, pausing only once the waitress arrives with Harry’s drink. He takes a long sip while Ginny orders - apparently having decided on the burger. When the waitress turns to him he gets the same - though changing medium rare for medium well. Plus he adds, “And can we have the stew to share? With some bread.”

Once they’re alone again, Ginny nudges his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“You got me all hyped for it too,” he shrugs and slips his arm back around her, “Besides, I’m not above asking for a takeaway box.”

“Glad you seem to know the real path to my affection, that line was bloody awful. Time to move on,” Ginny winks, “I’ll keep my promise.”

“No, no. You said Boy Band had better lines than I do and now I’m proving you wrong,” Harry takes another swallow and swipes at his upper lip. “I’ll earn that thing I like the real way.”

“Which is?”

“Wooing.”

Ginny sighs. “You won’t let it go, will you?”

“Nope,” Harry pops, sitting a little taller in his chair.

“Anyhow,” Ginny says, fiddling with his fingers, “How was the meeting with Kingsley?”

“Relatively unnecessary,” Harry shrugs, “At least I think so. But you know how they like to get input and whatnot. Which means lots of almost shouting and then Kingsley puts on that face and says, ‘You’ve all given me a lot to think about.’”

“Does he change his mind much, pre to post meeting?”

“Depends who offered alternatives,” Harry answers, taking another swallow of his ale. “Which is for the best. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit people say.”

“What did you ever do to make Robards hate you so much?” Ginny asks with a chuckle when Harry’s forehead connects with her shoulder.

“I dunno, but he must. Either that or he really values my ability to half take notes and mostly doodle magical creatures.”

“Do you take requests? I want my face on the body of a harpy.”

The din of the crowd briefly increases and Harry leans close enough that Ginny’s soft flowery scent overcomes the smell of stale beer and miscellaneous fried foods. “Gin, your face is already on the body of a Harpy.”

“Har-har, you know what I mean.”

Harry shakes his head and tips so his nose nearly touches Ginny’s. “There’s something wrong with my eyes,” Ginny perks up, rapidly searching him for any injuries she neglected to notice and he continues, “There must be. Because I can’t seem to take them off you.”

She groans, shoulders slumped back against her barstool. “Harry, you have terrible eyesight. And that might have been the worst line yet.”

“Noted,” Harry nods like she’s just given him a tip on a case, “I’ll keep trying.”

“Please don’t.”

“I love a challenge.”

The waitress returns with their admittedly overdone dinner order and Ginny nearly spears Harry with the prongs of her fork. “Do not make me sick up, this smells too good to waste.”

Harry scofs. “Right. We both know you’re tougher than that. Should I remind you that your secret weapon was the Bat-Bogey Hex - a hex largely based on snot?”

“And it still is,” Ginny grins after she swallows an impressively large helping of her food. “Talking about gross, though,” she follows, eyeing Harry sideways, “any specific plans for my brother’s stag do? And don’t tell me you’ve cracked under pressure and let George organise it.”

There’s something very Molly Weasley-eque in her expression as she says it, freckles alight and splattered over her cheeks and nose in a way that always has Harry’s insides twisting and burning, without failure. So he smirks, leaning in closer.

“Which brother is that?”

Ginny kicks at his shin, wobbling on her barstool. “The one with the big nose and lanky limbs?”

“Oh, that one,” Harry widens his eyes in mock realisation. “Right, yes. No, I’m doing it."

“And?”

“And?” Harry parrots, sipping another spoonful of stew.

“Remember the bogeys, Harry,” she scowls, huffs away a red strand of hair falling on her cheeks.

His elbow planted firmly on the bar, Harry offers her his most dazzling smile, green eyes glinting mischievously behind his round glasses. “Aw, Gin, it’ll be nothing much. Just your regular boys’ night out - a little bit of getting pissed, a little bit of going to a strip club.”

Ginny laughs throatily, her head leaned back and her long, red hair grazing over her waist, eyes closed shut. “Can’t wait to read Skeeter’s take on you visiting a strip club. Honestly, Harry?”

“Nah. But we will get pissed at George’s though.”

“Figured. Good for you, you deserve it,” Ginny smiles and tops it off with a bite of warm bread. “Thanks for the laugh.”

“I aim to please,” Harry smiles back and, for a while, they both eat in contented silence, the pub’s buzz fading in the background as they enjoy each other’s presence and the feeling that they’re safe, and seen, and loved.

Later, there’s a clatter as Harry pushes his empty plate further up the bar and scans Ginny promptly before he says, “Alright, hear me out - one last try.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, bored, swishing her spoon in his direction. “Shoot.”

Harry clears his throat.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but Snape was so fond of me he tried to adopt me, right?”

Ginny’s forehead promptly connects with the bar top.

“That’s it,” she grunts, ginger hair pooling over her arms, spread over the black countertop, “we’re leaving. Check, please,” she raises her head to speak, voice heavy with distress.

“Women,” Harry pretends to roll his eyes, “nothing ever pleases them.”

Ginny sticks her tongue out in response. She then hops off and strides towards the loo, hair flicked over her shoulder.

Harry shakes his head, grinning; he rummages through his pocket, thumbs brushing over the hardwood of his wand, feels the cold metal of the coins piled in there. Five silver ones rattle along the counter and the barman nods his thanks.

A whiff of flowery scent floats near him, her lips suddenly close to his ear as she whispers, low, “You must be absolutely knackered, because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

Harry dips his chin slowly, green eyes connecting with her mischief-laden brown ones, a wide, playful grin on her face. “Ginny Weasley, was that a pick-up line?” Harry whispers back.

“Sue me,” she winks.

“No way. I’m rather turned on, actually.”

“Good,” Ginny follows, evilly, her lips still close to Harry’s ear. “Bathroom? There’s a private space in the very last one.”

“Fuck yes,” Harry exhales, as though he’d just received a punch to the plexus, and lets her drag him after her.

#clare's hinny ficfest #hinny #harry x ginny #canon compliant #banter & flirting #conversations at the countertop #hinny being hinny and loving a challenge #itsblissfuloblivion writes #gryffindormischief #fightfortherightsofhouseelves

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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years

Text

Adoption Day

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 2089

For: Covers the Animal Shelter square for @adarafaelbarba 's fall moodboard bingo

TW: very brief mention of past childhood abuse and animal abandonment, but other than that, it's mostly fluff

Dedication: This is for the world's best cat mom, @madamsnape921 ,because it's her birthday! Go send her some birthday love today!

Author's Note: Jumping back a little in the Cat Daddy Frederick timeline to cover Buttercup's adoption story. Per my previously established continuity, this would take place in January, right after New Year's, and prior to "Not According to Plan"

Tags: @itsjustmyfantasyroom @prurientpuddlejumper @thatesqcrush @welcometothemxdhouse @raulesparza4eva @teamsladsandgents @rosequcrtz

The winter wind howled outside the window and snow drifted across the windowpanes, but inside Frederick Chilton’s ornate home you were safe and warm. No, our home, I live here now, you thought to yourself. You were still getting used to thinking of it as your home, too. You were unpacking the last of the boxes from your recent move. A fire was roaring in the living room fireplace, giving the room a cozy, comforting glow. You inhaled the aroma of the hearty vegetable stew that was cooking in the crockpot in the kitchen, and your stomach growled. You were going to need to take a dinner break soon, and as if he was reading your mind, Frederick entered the room and came over to where you were placing your books on the expansive built-in shelves.

“How goes it with the books? Do you need more shelf space? I can always move somethings into my office if you need more.”

“Thank you, Frederick, but don’t worry; I think I have more than enough. I am, however, getting rather hungry. I think it’s time we ate dinner, don’t you?

“I couldn’t agree more, my love, shall I set the table?” he asked, taking your hand, and helping you to your feet.

“Thank you, Frederick, that would be lovely.”

*****************

“This stew is fantastic, my love! We’ll most certainly have to use this recipe again.”

When you didn’t respond right away, Frederick started to worry and reached for your hand. “Darling?”

“Oh! Sorry! I zoned out for a moment, must be more tired than I thought; Thank you, Frederick, I have a whole slew of crock pot recipes that are perfect for cold winter days.”

“Y/N, are you alright? Have I done something wrong? Is it the house? Is there something you’re not happy with?”

“What? Oh, Frederick, no!” You squeezed his reassuringly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love, and the house is perfectly fine. It’s just…” you paused, not sure how to broach your thoughts.

“What is it? Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it! Cost is no object!”

You took a breath and tried to collect your thoughts. You loved cats, but your previous apartment had not allowed pets. You had promised yourself that when you eventually moved you would be a cat mom again. It had been far too long. But it was something that you and Frederick hadn’t discussed yet, and you had no idea what his feelings were on the subject.

“What did you think about getting a cat?” You blurted out, bracing yourself for what you were sure was going to be an argument.

It was now Frederick’s turn to go silent, taken aback by your unexpected query. He mulled it over in his head before answering.

“Honestly, my love, I’ve never thought about it before. I never had a pet of any kind growing up. My parents did not allow animals in the house.”

“Oh, Frederick, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” In theory, you knew you probably should have guessed that. You knew that Frederick’s father had been a hard, cruel man, and had been abusive toward Frederick and his mother. Frederick’s mother had been so worn down by it that she eventually shutdown, mentally and emotionally, and neglected to protect her son when he needed it the most. Of course, they hadn’t allowed pets, they hadn’t even allowed their son to have a normal childhood, or an ounce of happiness.

“My darling, you have nothing to apologize for,” said Frederick, placing soft kisses on the back of your hand. “If it’s a cat you want, then a cat you shall have. I’ll do some research after we finish here. Cats need supplies, right? Food, litter, toys, those fancy cat trees, cute little sweaters?”

****************

After dinner you and Frederick sat side-by-side on the couch with your laptops, him researching what kind of supplies you going to need to buy, and you were looking at your local SPCA’s website.

“Good god, I had no idea how many different types of cat litter there were!”

“Oh, Frederick, if you think that’s bad, wait until you see how competitive the cat food market is. Hmm…that’s interesting…”

“What is it?” asked Frederick, looking over at your laptop.

“This listing here,” you said, pointing at a blank gray box. “There should be a picture here, like there is for the other listings, but it’s blank. It says it’s supposed to be a 2-month-old black female…. hang on; I have an idea.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and scrolled through your contacts until you found the name you were looking for. You hit “Call” and waited.

“Hello?” A voice finally picked up on the other end.

“Joanne! Hi! It’s Y/N. How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you? It’s been ages since the last time we hung out.”

“I’m good, and you’re right; it has been too long. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Sure! What’s up?”

“Do you still work for the county SPCA?”

“Oh, you bet I do! Oh my god, are you finally in the market to adopt?”

“Yes, I am, and I have a question about one of the cat listings on the website. The one that’s missing a picture?”

“Yes, I just noticed that a few hours ago. Our website person put that up prematurely. The kitten was just spayed, and normally we wait until the animal has had adequate recovery time before we add them to the site, but accidents happen. Last I checked, the little one is recovering nicely and should be ready to interact a couple days. She’s the sweetest thing. Someone dumped her in a cardboard box at our front door. She had a leg injury, but that’s also healing up. She loves to play, loves to cuddle, and I’ll think she’ll thrive in a good home. Would you like to make an appointment to see her?”

“Yes, I would! What time slots do you have available?”

*******************

A few days later, you and Frederick walked arm in arm into the county SPCA. Frederick had rush-ordered all the supplies you thought you’d need and then some. You both excited and nervous. You’d already taken a huge step by moving in together, and now you were adopting a pet. You looked over at Frederick and noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. He also seemed leaning on his cane for support. He always seemed to do that when he was unsure about something. You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and kissed his cheek.

“It’s going to be okay, Frederick, you’re to be a wonderful cat dad. I believe in you.”

Frederick blushed and placed a soft kiss on your temple.

“Thank you, my love, I appreciate your faith in me, even though I’m still not sure what’s done to deserve it, or you.”

Before you could respond to that, Joanne came out her office and rushed toward you.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Joanne.” You enveloped her in a big hug and then motioned to Frederick. “Joanne, this is Dr. Frederick Chilton, my Frederick.”

Frederick gave you the most loving of looks, and nearly melted into a puddle at your feet at sound of you referring to him as “your Frederick.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Chilton,” said Joanne, extending her hand.

“And you,” he replied, shaking hands.

“Well, I suppose you want to meet the little one; right this way!”

You and Frederick followed Joanne to cat section of the shelter. You walked past several cats, each one trying to get your attention from their enclosures. If you had your way, you’d take them all home, but you didn’t think Frederick was quite ready for that yet; but maybe one day…

“Here she is, “announced Joanne, stopping in front of one of the enclosures. A tiny black, fluffy kitten was inside, and her eyes lit up when she saw you. She was immediately on her feet, and you noticed she still had a slight limp in her injured leg, but she was full of energy and mewing incessantly. Joanne opened the door and carefully lifted her out. You reached out to take her, but the impatient kitten leapt out of Joanne’s hands and into your waiting arms.

“Oh! Hello! Hi baby, hi sweetheart,” you cooed.

“Mew, mew, mew!”

You looked into her eyes, and it was love at first sight. You did your best to hold onto her, shifting and adjusting your arms to accommodate her constant movement and attempts to climb up your shoulder. You gave her a little scratch between her ears and kissed her head. She was perfect.

“Mew! Mew!”

“Yes, baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Frederick stood there watching you with the kitten, completely dumbstruck. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall anymore in love with you, you had to go and surprise him. You were a natural cat mom, cradling the tiny ball of fluff and talking to her like she was a human. He saw the kitten rub her nose against your chin and looked like she was giving you kisses. He also saw the look of pure love and joy on your face, and he lived for that, wanted to see that every day. He didn’t know anything about raising a cat, but for you, he would try.

**************

Joanne led you to a visitor’s room so that you and Frederick could spend some quality time getting to know the kitten. Frederick removed his coat and offered to take the kitten so that you could take off yours. You demonstrated how to hold the kitten and then handed her to Frederick. He held her close to chest and sat down.

“Mew?” the kitten looked up at him, confused as to who this new person was.

“It’s alright, little one, I’ve got you,” he tried to reassure her. A lock of his normally perfectly quaffed hair suddenly flopped in his face, and the kitten’s eyes grew wide.

“Mew?” she raised a paw and tentatively batted at Frederick’s hair. “Mew…”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” you said, plopping down next to them on a bean bag chair. You saw the smile on his face and nudged him with your elbow. “See? She likes you. And I think she wants to play.” You looked around the room and saw the toy boxes, filled with various dog and cat toys, but then something else caught your eye. “Frederick?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Hand her back to me and take off your scarf, please.”

He did as he was told. You carefully placed the kitten on the carpet and proceeded to dangle the scarf in front if her. Her eyes went wide again, and then she crouched, wiggled her backside, and pounced. Her little paws batted at the scarf, then she would roll around kick at it with her hind legs.

“It certainly looks like she’s enjoying herself,” Frederick chuckled. “So, what are we going to call her?”

“I was thinking ‘Buttercup”,” you said matter-of-factly.

“I am not the least bit surprised,” he replied, immediately picking up on your reference. He looked at the kitten. “Well, what do you think about that little one?”

“Mew?”

“Your name,” you told her, “Buttercup, do you like it?”

“Mew, mew.” She forgot about the scarf and crawled into your lap, kneading you with her paws.

“I think she likes it.” You threw Frederick a smile.

“Yes, I quite think she does. I have an idea, how about a story? Would you like that Buttercup?”

“Mew.” She replied with a yawn,

“Darling, if you check your bag, I believe you’ll find a book there.”

You checked your purse, and sure enough, in the largest section was a children’s book, one that you instantly recognized from your own childhood.

“If You Give A Mouse A Cookie?”

“It came highly recommended by the lady at the bookstore.”

“It’s perfect, Frederick.” You handed him the book and leaned your head against his knee. As he began to read, Buttercup curled up in your lap and shut her eyes, she was soon fast asleep, purring away. When he finished reading, Frederick caressed your cheek with hand to get your attention.

“So, shall we go find Joanne and make it official?”

“Yes,” you replied, gazing down at Buttercup, “If we don’t take her home today, I think I’ll cry.”

“Then let’s go fill out the paperwork and bring her home.”

#frederick chilton x reader #frederick chilton x female reader #frederick chilton #cat daddy frederick #frederick chilton imagines #hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo #my writing

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Star Wars vs. Star Trek

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

This is my entry for the secret fic swap that was organized by the ever amazing @imagining-in-the-margins

The person I got was- @sunlight-moonrise who is an amazing little bunny that I love

Thankies all around to my lovely helpers @definitelynotkatesblog , @clean-bands-dirty-stories and @httpnxtt Plus I was inspired by all the asks that @reidscardigan gets, it fuels my smutty thoughts!

Warnings: Jealous!Spencer, Rough sex, Impact play (on the heavy side), Face fucking, Light degradation, Choking, Bruising/Marking, Hair Pulling, Unprotected sex, and Orgasm Denial

A/N: I had a great time writing this I think its one of my best works! Feel free to drop a request in my inbox if you have a request (No duplicate requests please)

Word count: 3.6K

Masterlist

Spencer and I finally have some vacation time, and my god it feels like it’s been forever. We both worked ridiculously hard at the BAU, so Hotch had finally determined that it was time for the team’s mandatory two-week break this year.

As soon as we got home the both of us stripped of our work clothes and cuddled up on the couch to watch some movies. Spencer had the remote in his hand scrolling through to find a movie, the cursor landed on Star Trek. I could feel his puppy dog eyes looking up at me through his glasses that he only wore at home trying to convince me into letting him choose it. “Noooo Spencer, we watched it last week” I groaned. Sometimes it felt like your relationship was Spencer and Spock, and you as the delightful third wheel. “Ok what about a different one? We don’t have to watch any of the vintage ones, the new movies aren’t my favorite but they’re still extraordinary pieces of film art!” he ranted enthusiastically. “No, why don’t we watch Star Wars?” I begged, he knew it was my favorite but still insisted that Star Trek was better. “No, because I know you’ll ask to watch the sequels and I don’t like them, the story is just a repeat of the originals.” his eyes rolled and I was surprised they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head. Spencer and I have had this argument many times. The back and forth on which series was better was exhausting but so exhilarating. “Star Wars looks better, has better music, and better plot lines overall!” My voice slightly raised, I hated it when he tried to prove me wrong about this. Star Wars was my cemented favorite just as his was Star Trek. “Star Wars has straight up inaccuracies while Star Trek has improbabilities, not outright errors.” Spencer snarked back. I could tell neither of us were going to win this debate anytime soon. We always ended up in a shouting match about why we thought our favorite series was better. “Fuck you! I’m right, Star Wars is so much better! I mean look at Kylo Ren, he’s so much better then Kirk or Spock!” Spencer’s face turned into an expression mixed with jealousy and rage. “And look how good he looks during that interrogation scene!” I continued. “You think he’s hot?!” He accused profiling the look I had on my face as I was talking about Kylo “What are you jealous of a fictional character?” I asked mockingly, a knowing smirk adorning my face. Maybe I could get him riled up enough to get something else out of tonight. “N-no of course not that’s absurd!” He squeaked out, giving away how he truly felt. A coquettish smirk grew on my face as I got an evil idea. I deftly snuck my hands into my sleep shorts, slipping under my cotton panties and started to rub soft circles on my clit, not fully giving myself the stimulation that I desired. Spencer’s eyes bugged out of his head getting whiplash from the conversation switch. “Kylo” I moaned out with a simper, gathering my slick arousal I slid down my folds, pushing a finger inside, immediately crooking the digit to locate my g spot. I wanted to push Spencer to the edge of jealousy till he snapped. He got practically feral if I worked him up enough. I continued my descent into a selfish climax- adding another finger, as I picked up the speed of my thrusts into my dripping heat. My mind was so lost in the pleasure I forgot Spencer was there- until my hand was violently jerked from my pussy by a tight clasp on my forearm, just before I was about to fall into bliss. “What do you think you're doing?” Spencer spat.

That voice was usually reserved for unsubs, which served to further dampen my panties, his mind had switched into his dominant persona that was prevalent in the bedroom. “Just indulging myself, Spencer, since you won’t.” I bit back, irritated I’d been brought back from the edge of toe-curling bliss. He shot me a harsh look and tightened his grip on my arm, a warning if you will. I could tell I had just gotten myself into deep trouble, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to rile him up further. “Get in the bedroom and strip. You’ve earned yourself a punishment, brat.” His tone had gotten down right deadly at this point, but I didn’t let that deter me. I was on a mission. I decided to further dig myself in a hole by ignoring his order, simply crossing my arms and turning my head away. I could feel his bitter gaze boring into the back of my skull as I continued to defy his order, my excitement pooling in anticipation for the brutal punishment I’d surely earned. We sat like that for a while- refusing to break out of my sass, and him making sure that I was really ready for what he had in store for me. My legs started to squirm, the tension was almost unbearable. Just before I was about to give him another smart remark his other hand shot out to my leg, holding it firmly so I was no longer moving. A surprised squeak escaped my lips as Spencer flipped me onto my stomach, my knees coming to rest on the floor and my chest pressed into the couch. I tried to regain my balance in an attempt to crawl away from him but he quickly moved to hover over my form, boxing me in with his arms. “Are you trying to get in more trouble, Dolly?” he asked, his tone dark and condescending. A pathetic little whimper escaped my throat. When I failed to reply quick enough by his standards, a large palm came down on my backside, forcing an answer out of me.

“Yes! I’m sorry Sir, I was trying to get in t-trouble.” “Tsk tsk. Only bad girls like punishment, Doll.” He sounded disappointed. I dug my nails into the plush and hid my face into the cushion, trying to escape from under his heavy gaze. He pulled my hands to rest behind my back, tying my hands with what felt like a drawstring from sweatpants. He’d learned to improvise during our time together; had he left to find more appropriate rope, there was no guarantee I’d be in the same position he left me in by the time he got back. He snaked his hands through my hair, yanking hard to pull my body flush against his own. “Color?” He asked quickly, checking in with me, which only made the situation hotter-what can I say? Consent is sexy. “Green” I replied with a grin. Being disciplined was always exhilarating. “What’s my punishment, Sir?” He let go of the grip on my hair, his hands swiftly moving to remove my shorts and now soaked cotton thong, revealing my bare bottom to him. I rubbed my legs together trying to get some sort of friction but was interrupted by Spencer wrenching my legs apart. “You do that again I’ll add 20 more and you’ve already earned yourself 40- plus a little extra something.” His words hummed against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver trickling down my spine. I groaned in protest and tried to wiggle myself away from him, his hand coming down onto my left cheek in response. “Doll-“ He warned sharply. “If you keep this up I won't let you cum for a week.” His words shook me to my sassy core; I was greedy and there was no way I was going to get myself in more trouble. “I’m sorry...” I muttered into the couch cushion. “Say it louder, Dolly.” The sing song tone/cadence of his voice felt like a trap- contrasted to his previously dark tone and warning smack brought down on my backside. “I’m really sorry, Sir!” I shouted. With my cry, I gave up control to Spencer entirely. He loved when I acted like this, no matter how angry he pretended to be. “Do you mean it this time?” I could hear the devilish smile on his lips. “Yes!” I confirmed on a shaky breath. I was done fighting him. “You’re so good to me a-and I shouldn’t have tried to make you jealous.”

Although he couldn’t see my eyes, I put on my biggest, sweetest set of puppy dog eyes to really drive my point home.

“So you’re going to sit pretty and take your spankings like a good girl, right?”

I nodded sheepishly, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe if I was good enough that I might get to come tonight. He let me stew in my thoughts for a minute before resuming his assault on my behind. His hand gripped both cheeks into his palms, kneading the tender flesh that was about to be covered in black and blue handprints. As the first strikes landed on my right side, he grabbed a blanket for me to cuddle into as he landed each smack, his full strength being used in each one, exhibiting just how much I pissed him off. My nerves were prickling, my ass had already started to sting and he hadn’t even reached the 10th strike. I’d definitely be able to feel the pain for the next week- maybe longer. Teardrops started to coat from my lashes onto my cheeks as he switched to the left cheek. By the time he’d reached the halfway mark, the blanket had become soaked by my uncontrolled muffled sobs. His rhythm never faltered as he continued to pepper the now-raw skin of my bottom with more punishing blows. “What are you?” He finally spoke as he was nearing the end of his count, my fingers digging into my palms to help me get through the last few. “I’m a bad girl, Sir” I pathetically whimpered into the blanket.

A brutal THWACK landed against my backside, letting me know he was looking for me to use my big girl voice. A sob raked through my chest, sending more tears down the blushed apples of my cheeks. “I’M A BAD GIRL, SIR!” My bruised bottom felt like it had been burned by hot coals with welts forming as evidence, as Spencer drew out the last few at a languid pace. When he finally finished, he dropped his head down to plant kisses on each injured cheek, a sign of appreciation for behaving. “You dirty girl, you're getting off to this ” He said matter of factly, moving to run his finger through my drenched folds, his fingers probed my entrance trying to get me more worked up. Surging forward, he replaced his fingertips with his tongue stirring a fire deep in my belly, placing delicate kitten licks along my folds. My body writhed against his touch and for a moment, I thought I might get off easy. Until, again, he pulled away just as I was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Sirrrrr, please?” I begged, my clit was throbbing in tandem with the blood pounding under the skin of my raw and tender bottom. His threat from earlier became evident- he wasn’t going to let me cum easily. “No, Doll, you still haven’t proven that you’re sorry enough.” He roughly yanked me off the sofa, positioning me on my knees in front of him, his clothed cock sitting right in my eye-line. The sweatpants that he had dawned were taken off quickly, I drank in the sight of his hard cock through tear-stained eyes. “Color?” He asked while cradling my jaw. The realization hit me, and I became blissfully aware of one thing: he was about to fuck my face. “Green.” I was always happy to give Spencer pleasure, and to see all the power just my mouth had over him was insanely erotic to me. He gripped his cock in one hand, pulling my chin down to open my mouth with the other. I stuck out my tongue for him and leaned forward, wrapping my lips around the head of his erection to begin gently sucking. Precum filled my mouth as I started to bob my head, working my way farther down his length each time until I reached the base of his cock. I choked slightly, my nose nuzzling against the hairs of his waistline. He gripped my hair on both sides with each of his hands and did a shallow experimental thrust forward, giving me a taste of what was coming. My eyes screwed shut as he set a fast pace, his tip hitting the back of my throat, tears starting to prick at the corners of my eyes again. The hardwood grinding against my knees sourced a new pain, but all I was focused on was the cock being shoved down my throat and pleasuring the man it was attached to. “Open your eyes, Doll. I want you to see what you do to me.” I glanced up with my glassy red rimmed eyes to gaze at the beautiful sight of Spencer, his head was tilted back, sweat coating his ruffled curls, with his mouth hung open in a silent gasp. Even through my tears I could see this man was an angel. I groaned, somehow I was even more turned on, so much so that I could feel a pool forming on the floor from my arousal. He rutted harder into my mouth signaling that he was close to his release, drool was now dripping from the sides of my mouth, wetting the thin material of my pajama top. Hot spurts shot down my throat with a strangled cry from him. Tasting his salty release on my tongue, I drank him in, savoring every last drop he had to give me. As he pulled himself out of my mouth, the string of spit connecting my lips to the head of his cock snapped, falling down my chin. Saltwater still cascading down my cheeks met with the mess on my chin, creating a messy mixture. Spencer pressed a thumb to my cheek, pushing the few drops of cum that escaped along with some spit into my mouth. “You being a cry baby, Dolly?” he cooed condescendingly, wiping away the drops that accumulated onto my cheek bones as I sent him a little pout. “You should’ve thought about the consequences before you broke the rules, Doll.” Turning me around, he pressed my chest into the coffee table across from the couch. Though I still had on my shirt, the cold surfaces rubbed against my sensitive nipples making them harden to a peak. He hadn’t done anything for a minute, so I tried to turn my head to see what he was doing. I was met with a harsh tug at my jaw forcing it to prop up facing the tv. The television flicked to life flooding the screen with the Disney+ logo I tried to glance back again to shoot him an incredulous look, but again I was repositioned roughly to stare at the screen. He clicked through until landing on the Force Awakens. My brows furrowed, but I decided not to push my luck by asking any questions. He pressed play and started fast forwarding until he landed on the scene I had been referencing that got in me trouble in the first place. Kylo Ren graced the screen, starting his interrogation with Rey. Was he going to sit here and make me watch it? Was he going to let me cum? Or was he going to edge me the whole night and hang me out to dry? I was snapped out of my thoughts by a tug at my neck, his palms wrapping around like a necklace, pulling my torso up so that my eyes locked perfectly to the moving figures on the screen. “You think he could fuck you better then I can, Doll?” he ground out. “That pathetic boy compensates with his saber, yet you have the whole package right here sweetheart.” I gasped and wriggled at his words, becoming down right desperate to have him do anything to me. He finally relented, dragging his free hand up my folds, still just barely touching me- ghosting around my clit. He sucked dark bruises into my neck, and as his teasing touches continued, I impatiently whined. “Please, Sir I need you.” “Why should I? You have Kylo don’t you?” “I already said I’m sorry, Sir! And I mean it really!” My begs filled our apartment, loud enough to completely mask the sound of the movie. I had been completely ignoring the film, focusing solely on trying to gain some sort of pleasure from the man endlessly denying it. “Ok, Dolly but only if you promise to never do it again.” I tried my best to nod against his vise grip on the column of my throat. He deftly snuck two fingers into my pussy, fitting snugly inside of me causing my body to unconsciously move my lower half against him. He started to pump and curl them, expertly hitting the perfect spot each time making stars appear behind my eyes. Suddenly he removed his fingers, quickly replacing it with something far more satisfying before I could complain. His cock bottomed out, filling me to the hilt eliciting a surprised squeak from me. He always made me feel so full-it felt like heaven. His hips propelled forward starting a rough rhythm that left almost no room to breathe, the movie had been completely muffled by our moans and sounds of slapping skin, a heavy dose of sex lingering in the air. His thrusts were irritating the already brutalized flesh off my ass, but the stinging sensation just aided in ecstasy that flowed through my veins. “You look so much prettier with these bruises.” He grunted as I tried to arch my back to a steeper angle so I could take him as deep as possible. “It shows everyone who’s mine, even if they are a fictional character.” Spencer was repeatedly hitting my g spot sending me closer and closer to the edge, but I knew I had to ask permission before I came. “Please, Sir, Please! I’m so close! Can I cum?” “Why do you think you deserve to cum Doll?” He asked, I should’ve known he was still going to throw one last tease in before letting me orgasm. “Because- I - I don’t know I just need it!” I let out a frustrated sob as he continued to thrust with reckless abandon. “Ok. Doll. Let. Go.” he said, accentuating each word with a sharp rock with his hips. My eyes rolled far into the back of my head as I was sent careening into pleasure, the coil that sat deep in my belly snapped, sending me into violent waves of pleasure. As I rode out my delicious high, Spencer’s hips stuttered and the grip on my neck was tightened as he shot ropes into me, stuffing me to the brim. He let go of my neck letting me relax my head onto the table. I’m sure I had a messy, freshly-fucked look on my face but I couldn’t be bothered to care.“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked once he had caught his breath. I nodded meekly, knowing full well I’d be back on my brattiest behavior as soon as these bruises faded. We both groaned as he slipped his softening cock from out of my folds. He slowly padded away to grab his items for aftercare-my favorite part. I had never had a partner show so much care for me like Spencer had. He came back with everything he needed and got to work, starting by cleaning my folds with a washcloth, then switching to a fresh one wiping the tears and spit away from my face. Aloe that he had made sure to warm up was then squirted onto my cheeks, he rubbed the liquid in softly massaging the abused flesh with gentle care. My limbs still felt like jello when it was time to stand, so Spencer helped guide me into new clean pajamas, he even made sure to pick out the velvet ones I liked, they always felt like little soft caresses were being peppered against my skin when I wore them. “You ok, Doll? You haven’t said anything.” He whispered gently, as if afraid he’d startle me. “Yeah” I croaked.My voice had been thoroughly abused throughout the night making rasp harder than normal. “Just feel a little woozier than normal.” He quickly enveloped my form into a hug, drawing me in close so I could smell the cologne that made itself a part of everything he owned. Sitting us both down on the couch, he found as many blankets and as possible making a little fort of warmth around us.

“I’m sorry I was harsh, Doll.” “No no, I liked it, it was just intense.” My scratchy voice obviously made him cringe. “So you are jealous of a fictional character?” I cheekily quipped to try and cheer him up. He let out a chuckle in response and started to ghost little butterfly kisses all across my face.

“I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “Sing to me?” I asked softly. I cherished his horrible singing with all my heart, it made me soft and mushy on the inside. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my dolly away.” I started to drift to sleep even though I was fighting to giggle at Spencer’s croaky singing. Despite his god awful singing in my ear, sleep found me, whisking me away to the land of sweet dreams. I drifted off in his arms, knowing I was his good girl- knowing he would love and cherish me until the ends of the Earth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #Smut #fluff #aftercare #spencer reid fluff #comfort #criminal minds fanfiction

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years

Text

The Owner of His Heart. ||A.R

AN: DO NOT CLICK KEEP READING IF YOU DIDNT NOT WATCH THE MOVE.. SPOILERS AHEAD… Also excuse my writing it’s been months since I’ve written anything !

Summary: before spoilers… Reader and Arvin had gone out a couple times but never labeled their relationship but one day when Arvin needs someone, she’s there.

Warning: Just the whole situation with the preacher, death, angst, and maybe a few curses?

The news was unsettling, the kind that sat deep inside the pit of one’s stomach, squeezing and aching, it made Y/N’s chest heavy with sadness. The news of Lenora’s death was surprising, a good God loving girl like her would never commit such a sin but there she lays with no one here., y/n is the only other person but her family standing above Lenora’s casket. Grandma Russel sobbing over the light-colored tomb, Uncle Earskell didn’t say much. As for Arvin she tried to get him to open up but, it didn’t seem like the right time to speak to him but her heart was hurting for his loss.

The preacher didn’t bother to come out and say any words, a suicide, a sinner.

Hesitantly she steps forward, hand comforting the lower back of Arvin. Arvin stiffens but he doesn’t bother to move away from it but only signs. “Arvin.” It’s a failed attempt to hold his hand because he’s almost half way down the dirt road before any other words could follow.

“just give him time sweetheart’” Grandma Russel manages to say, “He will come to you when he needs you.”

He always did. The couple were pretty much inseparable, best friends since childhood even walked together to school until graduation. Tears filled her eyes, Lenora had always been her friend too. They had only became more because the pressure to settle down and find a wife was weighed heavily on Arvin’s shoulders, he tried and tried but none of them clicked. One day it hit him, why wouldn’t he take his best friend out? There was no awkward introduction, no fakeness, she was the realist person he’s ever known.

At first it was a little awkward, so shocked that Arvin asked, she thought it was a joke and laughed in his face. He played it off cooly, but the look on his face said it all, not to mention how flush his cheeks were. “Wait you’re serious Arvin?”

“Mmm.” He confirms, “we already know everything about each other, it’s real between us. Just me and you, besides you ain’t the worst person I’ve ever seen.”

“wow thanks.” Her eyes roll make him laugh, he sucks in his bottom lip and smiles. “I’m just kidding darlin’, you’re beautiful.”

“Am I now?” A playful grin reaching her eyes as she leans over the counter of the diner. “So you’re confession your undying love for me officially?”

“yeah, I guess I am.” Tom shift uncomfortably in his seat as she tops of his coffee. It’s that sweet smile he’s so used too, but this time it send butterflies twirling in his stomach, he had always had a crush when he was younger but as the world grew colder and duller, he never acted on it. “I guess I’ll let you take me out, but we are not going anywhere the creepy abandoned house you always try to get me to go in.”

“why darlin’? Afraid of ghost?” Tom would never go there on a first date, a beautiful woman deserved something with flowers and big bright lights with dinner. Besides, he was pretty sure that his nan would actually kill him if he did anything but show Y/N the udder most respect.

That was only weeks ago, of course they shared some kisses here and there, he would pick her up for picnics, and dinner dates but being so caught up with each other talking about labels never came up.. but it was two people, best friends enjoying the company of one another.

Now she stood over Lenora’s grave watching Arvin’s figure disappear past the tree line, heart heavy with loss. Giving him time is what is best, a few hours later she found herself knocking on the Russel’s door, a pie in hand. They considered her family of grieving with them but it didn’t feel right showing up with nothing.

“Grandma.” She presses a kiss to older woman’s cheek stepping through the doorway, “Did you eat anything? Want me to make some dinner?”

“all taking care of, maybe you could convince Arvin to eat though, he hasn’t left his room since.” Without a second thought she grabbed the plate from the table and made it through the hall way to Arvin’s room. There’s knock but there’s no answer, it quiet, something that is not familiar when Arvin’s involved.

Pressing against the door she opens it slowly, gripping the plate with two hands once the door is closed. “Arvin, you gotta eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” It muffled from how tightly the blanket was wrapped around him, hoarse from the throbbing inside of his throat. The whole room felt as if it was spinning, heavy eyes with irritated cheeks for the amount of times he’s wiped them.

“hey.” It’s a soft coo as she places the food on the stand next to the bed. “Look at me.”

The brown doe eyes glance up sadly, red with pressure, a ring of redness making it look like he hasn’t slept in days. “Do you need anything? I want to make this better Arvin.”

“I want you to leave.” He admits, pain twisting into his features. “I’m cursed, every single person I love has killed themselves, You’re it going to get caught up in my evil. First my daddy now my sister, who’s next?”

His breathing was increasing, growing with every word as his chest started to rise and fall. “I’m no good for anyone.”

She was stunned for a second, not ever seeing him like this. Of course, he’s always been a gentle kid with way more feelings then he would like to admit but watching the person you love totally break down into a panic attack was unsettling. Her fingers squeeze his gently, she’s here don’t worry.

“Arvin, that’s not true. You are not evil.” She frowns, without him even noticing managing to slip underneath the blanket wrapping her arms around his shoulders, face pressing against the swells of her chest. Fingers play with the soft brown strings. “What happen to them was an act -.”

“If you say God I might scream.” Arvin doesn’t fight the comfort, the softness of her breast, sweet smell of perfume relaxes him completely.

“I was going to say an act of themselves. You are not responsible for others choices, you can’t change what will happen.” Arvin doesn’t say anything else, he stews in the words.

“Now,” Soft pads trace his jaw, touching the highs of his cheeks to make his eyes meet hers. “I don’t want to ever hear any of that ‘I’m cursed’ bullshit again, it is not you. You are not evil and you haven’t lost everyone that loves you.”

Arvin doesn’t need anything else said, he knew exactly what she meant. All he could think was my best-friend, my lover, he pushes up from the bed slowly pressing his lips to hers. It was surprising but without a second thought her lips found his back, meeting in a slow, meaningful kiss. “Imma marry you.”

“oh that’s it? No asking me, nothing?” He rolls his eyes lightly, the first smile in days had graced his face, it was short lived but the sight made her heart flutter.

“ya see babe? I think you knew you were going to marry me the moment you laid eyes on me, always trying to make kissy face when we were younger.” He’s playful, something about growing up together makes it easy to be.

“well who’s making kissy face now?” Arvin’s lips meet hers once again, a subtle way to show his defeat.

A few days later despite how empty his chest felt he went back to work, mostly for the ambition of buying that shinny ring he promised. He was hoping in two weeks he’d have enough to ask properly, he wanted the prettiest one for his girl.

The sheriff stopped him a few day later, right when he was ready to go home, whispers of Lenora being pregnant out of wedlock but it didn’t make any sense. Why would she kill yourself over a baby? She would have all the support in the world, and would have made a great mother.

Then it hit him, who’s baby was it? The only time she’d ever spend was at her mother’s grave. Her mother’s grave and then the preacher… It all suddenly made sense. He felt sick to his stomach as he decided on walking home.. did he tell Nana? It would only break her heart more.

Walking past the cemetery he couldn’t help but notice the flashy, white car. He was about to give the preacher a piece of his mind before a girl no older then sixteen had climbed into the back of it, He couldn’t watch, he felt sick besides he had all of the evidence he needed.

The preacher had taken advantage of her, using God to trick her, and then not wanting to be shammed found a way to fix it. Lenora killed herself because she was afraid of the shame.

Tom slammed the door rather fast, walking right past the two most important women in his life in the kitchen and headed straight for his bedroom. The gun, he needed the gun that was in that stupid box under the bed.

“Arv? Is everything okay honey?” Of course she was here, why couldn’t you just stay away and make this less hard? It was so hard to make a decision when the voice of an angel would call him back to reality.

Killing the preacher meant breaking his promise to her, he wouldn’t marry her but run away, betray every word he said. Lenora deserved better, she deserved revenge.

On the topic of marriage it only made him face the fact that Lenora will never get married now because of that preacher and made his hands shake, tears of frustration run down his cheeks. His head was pounding from all the thinking, fighting with himself over wrong and right.

She enters without warning with a sigh, delicate fingers wrapping around him. “It’s okay, shhh.”

One more night with his love couldn’t hurt, one more night filled with comfort. After all the preacher wasn’t going anywhere. “What happened?”

“I’m fine darlin’,” Arvin wipes his tear filled cheeks, smiling sadly at her. Of course he wasn’t going to tell her, he had to convince her he was fine. “I jus’ miss her is all.”

“Me too, it’s not the same without her.” He nods in agreement wrapping his arms tightly around her back, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “I love you, and I don’t want you to forget it.”

“I love you to Arv.” Nothing else was said, she decided to stay that night with him. It was surprising.. sharing a bed with a man that is not yet her husband but after him begging it was hard to say no, especially in his time of grieving. Arvin wanted to hold her one last night before he slips away in the morning, and that is exactly what he did. All night held her, stole small kisses as she slept. Before the sun even reached the sky he was gone, but not before placing the small box on the night table.

It was nothing fancy, a small rock with a shiny silver band but it felt right since it rightfully belonged to her. The owner of his heart. With one last kiss to her forehead Arvin was gone but it would not be the last time they meet. Faith had other plans for the pair, their destiny had been written long ago.

#arvin russell #arvin russel x reader #tom holland #the devil all the time

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clandonnachaidh · 3 years

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Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch2)

Read on AO3

Jamie was sat, feeling maudlin and staring into the depths of his pint after a particularly difficult day. If Jenny had been beside him, she’d tell him to wise up and be grateful for the situation he was in. But he still wasn’t used to being so far from home, away from his parents and Lallybroch. He wouldn’t let himself say it out loud but he even found himself missing the tinny aftertaste of a pint of Tennents that he had yet to find on sale south of the border.

He knew his parents were over the moon about his acceptance into Oxford, how could they not be? Jamie had walked around Broch Mordha with his mother and father a few days after he’d received the happy news and found that the standard twenty minute scoot around the shop was considerably stretched out to allow his parents to stop and boast to every person they could about their youngest son’s achievement. Jamie had smiled sheepishly and thanked people for their well wishes but if he was being entirely honest, there was a knot in the pit of his stomach every time someone mentioned him leaving home.

Jamie tried not to let his nerves get the better of him as he settled into his new home those first few days. It wasn’t just that he stuck out like a sore thumb as the 6’ 4 red headed Scot that was almost as broad as he was tall. It was the fact that the people seemed to be looking at him funny. He made the mistake of asking someone for directions and ended up on the receiving end of a joke about his accent, the man making a mean comment about Jamie being asked to join Oxford University as some attempt to reach whatever entry quota of undergraduates hailing from underprivileged backgrounds. It didn’t matter that he was there on the merit of his exam results that he had worked his arse off for, the same as everybody else. Jamie Fraser was a working class lad from the Highlands, not some self-entitled Etonian arsehole whose father knew somebody who knew somebody. He was surrounded by future Lords and Dukes and he knew that if he heard the words ‘titan of business’ again, he was going to have to start cracking some overprivileged skulls.

And so he sat in The College Bar on a Friday night, hidden away in the corner upstairs where he could sit in peace and brood over his very fortunate situation that he didn’t feel so fortunate about. The only thing that he made the whole thing worthwhile was the girl who lived a few doors down from him in Merton College.

The first time he saw Claire Beauchamp she was fighting a losing battle with a cardboard box that looked like it had already taken a few bashings. Jamie had moved into his dorm a few days prior and was out that morning in an attempt to scout a route for his morning runs. He was keeping a close eye on his AppleWatch, making sure that his heart rate was staying in the optimal zone when he encountered one of the more colourful expletives he’d had the pleasure of hearing before.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!”

His head swivelled on his neck and his eyes landed on her.

Her long arms were wrapped around the box, trying to keep it steady on a propped up knee while the glaring at the taxi driver who was stood fiddling with his phone rather than helping the poor lass. Irritated at the absence of chivalrous manners, Jamie jogged towards the car to offer help.

“Are ye managin’? Here, let me,” he moved to her side and grabbed the next box, lifting it without thought and immediately straining as gravity worked quickly against him. “Christ, lass, what have ye got in here? Rocks?”

“That one contains books, laddie,” she spat back in frustration at him, trying her hand at matching the Scottish brogue and failing miserably. Jamie found it utterly adorable and couldn’t help but smile as he placed the box on the pavement and unloaded the next one which was thankfully much lighter. After wrangling her suitcase from the boot of the car, he tried not to watch the delicate movement of her limbs as she paid the fare.

Trying to pretend that he hadn’t been avidly watching her, he faked a jump of surprise as she thrust her hand towards him, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

He liked her instantly. He found himself thinking, who the hell introduces themselves with their full name anymore? What an interesting wee thing she was.

“James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” he returned the gesture, shaking her small hand in his large one, damning the tough skin of his calluses for keeping him from feeling the exact texture of the soft skin of her palm.

“That’s too many names.”

“What?” The question burst out of him in an exasperated laugh. “No, it’s no’. ’Tis the number of names my parents gave me and if ye want tae live a good long life, Sassenach, ye winna get intae the bad books of my wee ma.”

“What’s a… sassanatch?” Her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Sassenach,” he corrected her pronunciation with a wry smirk. He knew that if he tried to give her anything but the truth, she would see through him in an instant so he decided to answer honestly. “It means ‘outlander’.”

She snorted at him and rolled her leopard eyes into the back of her skull.

“Sorry to break it to you, Toto, but I have a feeling we’re not in Scotland anymore.”

“Now that I am painfully aware of,” he sighed, sending a cursory glance around the quad that they were standing in and almost willing it to magically transfigure itself into the hills of his home.

“Not enjoying it so far?”

“Jus’ takin’ me a while tae get used tae it, naebody spiks tae ye here. Said hullo to the man in the shops and he looked at me like I’d twa heids.”

He was putting it on a bit, thickening his accent to amuse her but he was delighted to see that it was working. She laughed, looking at her feet and then sighing at the boxes that he had stacked into a neat pile on the pavement. She looked wistfully at them and cast a sideways glance at the man in front of her, an idea forming in her mind.

“Rather large, aren’t you, Fraser?”

He grinned wolfishly at her, “That I am.”

“What if I make you a promise to say hello to you every time I see you? In exchange for a small favour?”

“And what would that be?”

“Help me to my room with my things?” She sent him a dazzling smile to try and convince him but he had already resigned to himself that his morning workout had changed from cardio into upper body strength training.

“Wisnae going tae let ye carry these yerself, I’m no’ that cruel,” he smirked as she triumphantly pulled out her phone, bringing the information of her dorm up on her screen.

“You’re a saint. I’m staying in Merton, you wouldn’t happen to know where that is?”

He tried not to look too enthusiastic as he felt the universe click things into place, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

And that day was the first day of their story together. With Claire holding open doors, Jamie managed to get her boxes to her dorm in three trips and they bantered the entire time, her quick wit shining from her and almost doubling him over with laughter at one point. Without really making an effort to do so, they seemed to find themselves in each other’s orbit more often than not, walking to lectures together despite chasing completely different degrees and finding that they enjoyed the same very specific spot in the library that offered the most sunlight with the least amount of noise. He surprised her the first time he appeared with the correct number of sugar packets for her to dump into her coffee and he beamed when she peeled the gherkins from her burger and dropped them onto his plate, knowing that he would eat them for her. They came to know each other, slowly showing the parts of themselves that not many people were allowed to see. She banged on his door in the late afternoon after a particularly bad seminar and his hand found the perfect purchase against her shoulder as she laid her head on his and cried, admitting to feeling overwhelmed and burnt out in such a competitive environment. In turn, he let her in on his feelings of inferiority which she quickly shot down, telling him that he was not only the smartest person she knew but the kindest and that was no small thing. Soon enough, they were practically inseparable, both having their own friends but somehow always ending up in each other’s company. Jamie began to relax into his life in Oxford, knowing that as long as he could do it with Claire, well, it might not be so bad.

“Nice to see you didn’t wait for me, Fraser,” she puffed as she sat herself down on the stool across from him at their usual table in the pub, unwinding her long scarf from around her neck as she greedily eyed the pint that was sat waiting for her. Claire took a long drink before setting it down again and sighing heavily as her fingers, stiff and bright red from the cold, attempted to undo the buttons of her coat.

“Ye call me and tell me tae meet ye in the pub in ten minutes and then ye show up half an hour after. What am I meant tae do, just sit and stare at the ‘hing?” Jamie muttered in response, not meeting her gaze as he picked at a piece of dried candle wax that had dripped and solidified on the table. He had been studying in his room when she had called, demanding that he meet her and even though he would rarely say no to her, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t let her stew for a bit. Trying to hide a smirk, he pulled his eyes up to see her face, immediately regretting his teasing. “Sassenach? What’s worst wi’ ye?”

“It’s nothing, it’s-“ she finally managed to pull her arm free of her coat only to thrust it deeply into her pocket, retrieving her phone and staring at it with a furrowed brow. “Bloody bastard, he hasn’t even text me.”

His ears pricked up at the mention of a ‘he’ but Jamie kept his mouth shut, raising his pint glass to his lips to stop himself from blurting out all the questions that were brewing behind them.

“Why are all men total pricks, Jamie?” She took a deep drink from her own glass, her eyelids drooping slightly at the relief the cold liquid brought her before she wiped her lips with the back of her hand which she then waved in his general direction. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Och, I dinna ken, ye’ve called me worse things in our time thegither.”

That earned him a laugh and he watched as her shoulders relaxed slightly, her slight frame melting back into her chair.

“Bad date, was it?”

Claire snorted, the sudden expel of air causing one of her curls to dance around her face, “I don’t suppose it counts as a bad one if the guy doesn’t even show up.”

“He pied ye?” Jamie’s skin felt hot as anger licked at his insides. Her face scrunched up in confusion, as it did sometimes if he used a colloquialism from home that hadn’t quite found its way across the border.

“What?” she asked before deciding that it didn’t matter, carrying on in her irritation. “He didn’t show! No call, no text, nothing.”

“Good riddance then. Where did you find this one?” He asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Part of being her friend was watching from the sidelines as men, and some women, fell at Claire’s feet. Not for the first time, Jamie found himself ruminating on the fact that her name in Gaelic, Sorcha, meant light. She drew people in and without meaning to, they soon found themselves to be in her orbit.

“We quite literally bumped into each other in the library. He’s reading History.”

“And what would a history man be doing in amongst yer medical textbooks, Sassenach? Sounds like a bit of a creep to me. Or mebbe he was lookin’ up some horrible rash he’s got on his-”

“Same again?” She interrupted after downing more than half of her pint in an attempt to catch up.

She was already out of her seat before he had the opportunity to answer. He enjoyed, probably a little too much, watching the sway of her hips and the way her curls bounced as she bounded down the stairs towards the bar and he leant backwards, letting his head rest against the wall and sighing in frustration. She was going to spend the rest of the night sneaking glances at her phone, hoping that this new guy would try to get in touch with her and he would have to suffer in silence. He would tell her that she has nothing to worry about, that whoever this guy was would have to be a fool not to crawl over broken glass to get to her.

Because that’s what Jamie would do. If she ever asked him to.

After a second round and a third and a fourth, they came to be sat on the same side of the table, hidden away in the alcove that their table was situated in. They were both drunk although Jamie would never admit to it, saying that a Scot was never drunk as long as they could stand upright. Their shared laughter was getting louder and Claire’s gestures were getting bigger, sloppier, as the frustration began to pour from her.

“I mean, I’m reading medicine, for Christ’s sake! I have good prospects, I’m only minimally neurotic, I don’t think I’m that terrible to look at. So what’s my problem? Am I just destined to be alone for the rest of my life?” A massive hiccup ripped through her, followed by a laugh as she brought her hand to her chest as though the act would calm them. Jamie’s eyes fell to her hand, trying so hard not to let his eyes focus on the breasts beneath it. Realising that the drink had made his reflexes slower, he pulled his eyes to face forward, staring at the floor and worrying that he’d been caught.

“I dinna think so.”

Her index finger stabbed a little too hard at her phone, the screen lighting up and showing no notifications, “It’s not like there’s a line of men waiting patiently at my door.”

“Then they’re eejits.”

A whirlwind of curls twisted towards him, a slight smile that was playing on her lips admitting to her surprise. The words had left his mouth before he realised it and the moment he did, red creeped insidiously up from the collar of his shirt, seeping into his cheeks.

“Eejits, huh?”

He looked at her then, blue eyes fixing onto their honeyed counterparts, humour dancing across her face mixed in with the light that was cocooning them.

“Every man who doesnae fall at yer feet tae do yer bidding is an eejit,” he conceded.

“Are you including yourself in that list, Fraser?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, not needing to lend even more credence to what they both already knew but were too afraid to speak out loud. That he was completely under her spell and happy to be there.

“I think ye’ll find ye had me cartin’ yer wee boxes tae yer room within minutes of meeting ye, Sassenach.”

Claire bit her lips between her teeth, trying her hardest not to smile, “Your mother raised you to be a gentleman.”

“That she did. Which means I buy the next round and then I’m walking ye home,” Jamie said.

“Not heading to see Annalise tonight?”

Rising to his feet, he fought back the urge to snap at her, irritated at the mention of the girlfriend that he hated being reminded of when he was with Claire and simply replied with, “Not tonight.”

Something playful and dangerous glinted in the amber eyes and she leaned forward on her elbows, as though she was stalking her prey.

“Then I shall delight in having you all to myself.”

By the time Jamie returned with their drinks, the moment of flirtation had passed. Claire was back frowning at her phone and tapping a single bitten fingernail against the wood grain of the table. Determined to distract her from falling down the rabbit hole of despair, their final drink was spent teasing, telling funny stories to each other about the idiotic things that had been said in their seminars, gloating about who got the best marks on their last essay. Before they knew it, Claire’s scarf was being wrapped around her neck once more as the two of them stumbled into the cold night air.

They had stayed a little later than last call, a classmate of Claire’s being the barman on staff and allowing them to finish their drinks while he wiped down the bar and cleaned the lines. It meant that they were alone as they walked, not amongst the mass exodus of warm bodies that had left the bar twenty minutes previous. Jamie watched from the corner of his eye as Claire furiously rubbed her hands together in an attempt to introduce some heat. With the alcohol loosening the usual restraint that he kept firmly in check, he turned to her and grabbed her small hands in his and brought them to his mouth, blowing the hot air from his lungs against her skin. Even through the drunken fog, he felt the flickers of electricity that seemed to pass every time their hands touched. It wasn’t unheard of for their hands to find their way to each other’s in those long study sessions when both of them were tired and stressed and in need of a comfort. A gesture that said ‘It’s okay, I’m here with you’. Things were always easier if they touched.

Slowly, he became aware that she was holding her breath, confirming it by sweeping his eyes from her hands to her face. She was staring at him, like a leopard stalking its prey. No smart remark or witty retort fell from her lips which were parted, allowing her breath to leave her in little bursts that betrayed how fast her heart was beating. The drink making him bold, he began to lace his fingers through hers, the only sound on the street being her sharp intake of breath as he pressed their palms together. Jamie became immediately more aware that their faces were closer than they ever had been before, that her body was pressed lightly against his and he suppressed a groan at how easy it would be to pull her closer and lose himself in her. His eyes caught her her tongue darting out to wet her lips and he wondered if she realised that she had done it. He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, her pretty pink lips forming shapes that he wanted to know the taste of.

“Jamie…“ her breath was sweet against his mouth. It was an invitation but there was a hesitance there that he recognised and he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. That if they did this, if they kissed, nothing would be the same again.

“Aye?”

“Can I…?”

An imperceptible nod of his head was all it took for her dart towards him but she stopped himself just shy of his lips. His mouth was hovering above hers, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. Jamie held himself there, basking in the anticipation of a moment that he had dreamed of so many times. This wouldn’t be another first kiss to regret.

A small whimper escaped Claire’s lips as she softly pressed her mouth against his and it was all it took to undo him, his whole self filling with the need to taste her the moment that their lips met. Jamie raised a shaking hand to her face, to cup her cheek and kiss her slowly, deeply, wanting to drink in every part of her that he could.

He was kissing Claire Beauchamp. And it was everything.

#light across the seas that severed #clan donnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

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Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

Use this chrome extension to replace “Y/N” with a different name :)

“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed? A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #salt & snow #libra fics

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

I’m Baby - N. Horan Imagine

NOTE: here is some niall angst where the title doesn’t really make sense unless i decide to make a part 2 so let me know if you want one and if enough of you do I can continue this...

Niall Horan was not an open book, by any means. Honest? Absolutely. Those closest around them fine the label “genuine” to be an understatement. But the musician was not outward with every detail in his life like others he knew could be. There were obvious reasons why he was not, too. And the logic could not be clearer: nobody in the world needed to know what happened last Tuesday at the gym and how he hurt his knee or the fact that his teeth were in “impeccable condition” according to his usual orthodontist. More importantly, Niall did not think most people would care.

The only people around the man who are informed of these sundry happenings are those he knows would be interested, no matter the scenario. His mother, his best friend Lewis, and of course, you. For roughly nine months, you acted as Niall’s unlicensed (and hella supportive) therapist, but mainly played the part of his girlfriend. Each draining day Niall spent in the booth was a day he was guaranteed to find the sight of you running a hot bath for him at his house, lit candles and bath salts present alongside your naked form for him to unwind however he pleased. And whether the bath turned into a bubbly blanket for your cuddling figures or sensual lubrication for more intimate activities, it left each of you blissful for the rest of the night.

Whenever there was a prying interviewer who went a question too far for the man’s liking, or the hateful words sent Niall down the furious path of the forked road, rather than the somber one, your presence and appreciative listening kept his mood buoyant. You were an amazing partner to Niall, and possibly one of the best supporters he could have stumbled upon in his lifetime. Of course, the support flowed the other way too, despite what most of those in your life might consider being true. With Niall whisked away from you more often than not, it is difficult for him to find time to show you a similar passion which he holds for his occupation. But you knew he was trying, and you had told him on numerous occasions that was all the proof you needed.

The lack of PDA was something you needed to grow accustomed to, though. Admittedly, you were caught off guard when Niall invited you to attend a party with him but spent most of the night a good distance from your form. The various introductions you had envisioned your boyfriend leading in your head dissipated upon your arrival when you realized you would need to do most of the talking yourself. Intimidating was one word to describe the experience. If not for the sight of Niall’s quaffed, brunette hair peeking up like a shark’s fin throughout the crowd during conversations, you may have just fainted.

Finally, when you latched onto Niall’s arm after escaping another curious glance from someone of high status, you breathed a sigh of relief. “Baby, I’ve been trying to get to you all night. You keep running away from me.” A nervous chuckle slides past his lips.

“Sorry petal, guess I just…”

“Niall, hey! Thanks for coming man,” A tall figure approaches the two of you. The man’s brunette eyes take a cursory look over your form in wonder, but don’t remain. Upon traveling back to Niall’s eyes, you feel his arm tugging away from your grasp and meeting his friend for a hug.

“Thanks for the invite. Happy birthday, bud!” He cheers, patting the unruly haired stranger on his back, clad in an extravagantly patterned button-up. When they both pull away, the brown eyes are on you once more, and you are inhibited by a similar shrinking feeling.

“I don’t think we’ve met before…I’m Shawn.” The boy grins, teeth sparkling beneath the dim light as he stretches a hand towards you. You offer your own, hoping its shaking was not visible as they clasp together. No words are exchanged for the seconds following except a small ‘oomph’ as the man tugs you further until your head is colliding with his upper torso.

“Sorry, figured Niall would have given you a warning. I’m a hugger.” The man’s chest bounces through his laughter, causing you both to separate. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” The quiet answer barely has Niall’s ears perking up. And with the remaining distance between you and Shawn, his furrowed brows make it clear he could not catch it either.

“Sorry, what was that?” Shawn asks once more.

“Her names Y/N.” Niall’s voice breaks in, catching both you and Shawn off guard.

“Oh…” Shawn speaks after a few moments. “Well, welcome to the party, Y/N! There are drinks in the kitchen if you’d like some, but I’d hurry before he drinks them all. I’ll see you guys later,” Shawn waves before his long legs swagger off to another group of party-goers.

“Are you okay?” You turn to Niall, observing his now firm stance.

“Fine…” He mutters, before turning his head in the direction of the kitchen light. “You want a drink?”

“Sure,” you reach your hand to grab him but are only met with a brisk air gliding through your fingers and a glimpse of Niall’s form retreating into the kitchen in moments. He was acting suspicious, and you were pondering when a good opportunity would be to confront him about it if there ever was a good opportunity…

There wasn’t. Not that night at least, which just so happened to take place before the morning of Niall’s flight to London for a week to continue promo for a new single he was planning to release in a month. Your stewing concluded days before his return back to Los Angeles, and you decided the night was not something to quarrel over. Maybe the anxiety of the crowd was eating at him, or he just wanted to keep your affection to a minimum. What you did not understand, though, was why you needed to be a secret around his friends, too?

The two of you finally found time in your schedules for a day out together. Fortunately, this venture was only slightly work-related. When you brought up the need for a dress for a formal work event approaching hastily, Niall took the chance to inform of his own need for a pair of new boots, as a pair he owned now was becoming worn through their past years of wear and tear.

You made a note not to don your person in anything worthy of head turns. A simple t-shirt and jeans fit the attire just right as you and Niall strolled side by side, heads down, and sunglasses perched on your noses. Your fingers craved the feeling of his locked through them and twitched every time your knuckles bumped against each other’s but never acted further. When entering the store that sold clothes for all genders, you and Niall separated into your designated sections to scour options. Though Niall may not have known, just his body beside yours left you fulfilled and content, much more than the empty space.

The air around you suddenly grew warmer when your eyes finally landed on a plausible option. Thinking it was your boyfriend, you excitedly spun around to reveal your find, only to be met with an unfamiliar face.

“Baby, look what I—” You pause at the sight of a store associate and not Niall. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were somebody else,” you murmur with flushed cheeks. Now realizing the scant space between your two bodies, you took it upon yourself to shuffle backward a few inches.

“That’s alright. I was wondering if I could help you find anything.” While the man spoke, your eyes peeked over his shoulders in attempts to spot your boyfriend. It was no avail and left you sighing.

“Yeah, actually…” you inquire if the dress you were holding came in your usual size, leaving the man to scurry back and check in the back stock eagerly. In the meantime, you hunt down Niall in the shoe section and find yourself frowning at his figure hunched on one of the benches sat in the middle of the aisle, not even one box of boots lying beside him.

“Hey baby, did you find anything?” Your voice has his blue eyes snapping up from his phone and to your twiddling thumbs. Taking a seat beside him calmed you down from the scare of the store employee, even if the closest to affection either of you attained from it was your thighs pressed against each other.

“Hmm,” Niall hummed, pocketing his mobile device. “Not really, did you?” He raises a brow in interest.

“I don’t know yet, I found one I liked a lot but—”

“Miss?” Immediately, both of your heads turned to find the store employee, with two dresses dangling from his fingers by their attached hangers.

“Good news, I found that dress in your size. But I saw this in the back also…” He moves the wine-red dress into your view for your eyes to drink in. “Not that my opinion matters, but I think it’d do your body nicely.” The man’s eyes darken with each word as his eyes trail up and down your body without hesitance.

You chuckle warily, cheeks growing hot beneath his stare as your tongue trembles behind your lips for an answer. “Uh…I um…”

“I think we’re good for today actually,” Niall’s voice fills your ears again. You turn your head to take sight of Niall’s soft jaw and challenging stare and take a sharp inhale at the feeling of his muscular arm winding around your middle. “Thanks for the offer, though.” The last sentence was short of a snap towards the man, who was now intimidated by Niall’s appearance. You were sure he would have apologized for his inappropriate comments too, but you found your boyfriend leading the two of you all too quickly into a different store.

But you pause when his hand leaves your waist before you two were entering a new store. “This place looks nice—” ‘

“Why’d you do that?” The question, spoken softly, somehow cut through Niall’s comment like steel.

“Do what?”

“That.” You clarify with a jut of your head towards the previous retailer. “Why’d you just step in like that? I could have said something myself.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Niall takes notice of your defensive stance immediately and begins spewing any nonsense words he can think of to deflate the interrogation.

“Come on, petal, he was being a creep.” Niall reasoned in a low tone, but your agitation only continued to grow along with your volume.

“Okay, and? Because he was a creep you just needed to put your arm around me and make it clear I was taken? I wasn’t going jump his bones even if I was single.” You argued. ‘

“I didn’t say you would. I was trying to send a message.” Niall explains, eyes catching curious glances from pedestrians strolling by.

“I could have sent one just as easily by telling him no.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you didn’t even give me the chance, Niall!” Your voice burst into an entirely new level of loud neither of you knew possible. To make it worse, his name was the loudest part of the sentence, but you did not seem to care who may have heard you at that moment. Because whenever you were with Niall, and especially right now, he was not the international musician. He was your boyfriend. And you were having this argument whether one or one hundred people cared to gather around and witness it. “Just like you didn’t let me give my name to Shawn at his party.”

“You hesitated!” Niall hissed. “And what does Shawn’s party have to do with what just happened?”

“I was in shock, okay? I didn’t expect a random dude to pull moves on me! I especially didn’t expect you to swoop in and save me like it’s your job.” You scoff, not even bothering to answer his follow-up question. Niall’s brows clinch together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He was now mimicking your stance, arms linked together over his torso.

“It means that…for somebody who wants to keep his girlfriend a secret, you’re doing a shit job of it.” You spit. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, the stares of close to fifteen people had been paying notice to your scuffle. An occasional flash could be caught by your peripheral, but you gave nobody the satisfaction of turning your head for a closer look at you.

“Says the girl who just outed us in public,” Niall mutters, words nearly inaudible to you. He wished seconds later that they were, but the shake of disdain you gave him before pivoting to speed away was all he needed to know he fucked up. Majorly.

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hisakata-resutomoshibi · 3 years

Text

You guys still with me?? Alright, here we go with more obvious observations!

Part Three- Things That Probably Don't Prove Anything but I Still Find Worth Note

Still going strong with my undying devotion to the "Free Mikuni of Underserved Hate" crusade, I want to bring up that looking back at the C3 meeting, it's Tsurugi that first suggests they deal with Mikuni before the fight. I was wildly distraught at first, and then curious why he would insist on such drastic measures (kill him, really Tsurugi??) but it's most likely that he just wants to ensure that they send him and so he plays up the stakes: "Obviously Mikuni is someone that only Tsurugi could handle."

Now, Tsurugi himself, has claimed to have "no sense of responsibility" (bless his heart) so why bother bringing it up at all? Why not just go out on his own if it's so important?

Answer- he's a smart cookie too and knows that Mikuni has boxed himself in, he's now a wanted man; he can't go to the headquarters, nor can anyone there freely contact him. So what's the next best thing? Getting himself assigned to actually go look for Mikuni. If he's under orders, no one can interfere.

"So why are you so sure that Mikuni cares about Tsurugi??" you demand.

I'm glad you asked!

There are several instances of his flipflopping, most notably his interaction with Mahiru during the collapse of C3. He shows Mahiru how to find Tsurugi, even suggesting they go look for him together, but then has Jeje separate them and insists Mahiru go on his own. Mahiru claims that Mikuni must actually be worried and he admits that yes, he is, but all while making what is definitely a horrendously twisted face.

"So he doesn't really! It's a trick!" you argue.

I don't think so! And here's why-

The last time they met was outside the hospital and you could make the claim that it did not go well.

However! I've always found it strange that Mikuni, after dragging Tsurugi -specifically- out of the hospital, starts a fight and then leaves without killing him, or really doing anything at all aside from roughing him up and throwing around some insults. Tsurugi was on a top floor, behind a closed window, in one of the hundreds of rooms. Mikuni must have been searching for him. Again, why go to all that effort for what was essentially a waste of time?

Because it wasn't about winning.

He was protecting Tsurugi. He was keeping him occupied and away from Freya. After it's clear that Tsubaki has found her, Mikuni suddenly seems to lose interest and says there's been a change of plans and that he and Jeje are leaving.

But there was no change. Tsubaki was obviously there to get Freya; from the start Mikuni was simply ensuring that Tsurugi didn't throw himself in between Tsubaki and Freya and as soon as he's sure that it's safe, he gives up the act.

Another good example, though potentially vague and up to interpretation, is Mikuni warning Mahiru to stay away from Tsurugi. On the outside it seems a rational warning; Mikuni hates Tsurugi and likes Mahiru and wants to keep him from being pulled under by C3. But once we start to question Mikuni’s end game, become suspicious that he’s working with Tsubaki, it can be interpreted as him attempting to keep Mahiru, someone of potential power, from helping C3, ensuring that the force Tsubaki is against is weaker.

But I don’t think either of these is entirely correct.

Mikuni makes clear that his motive in the beginning is to keep Mahiru from joining C3 but after Mahiru does anyway, Mikuni states that having talked with Mahiru he’s “not worried about it”. This implies that Mikuni trusts Mahiru’s judgement and morals.

So why the four pages worth of shit talking Tsurugi?

Because Mikuni knows the best way to ensure that Mahiru pursues Tsurugi himself is to emphasize that he’s a broken, lonely person. There’s no other cliche that catches Mahiru’s attention quite like that and Mikuni needs Mahiru to do what he can’t himself- help Tsurugi heal.

Anyway, all of this is just to say that these two know each other, far better than even they will admit. It's clear from their interactions and the things they say to and about each other. They have unshakable faith in the existence of the other. And at the end of the day, that will continue to draw them together, again and again.

Another constant, as you should have seen coming when talking about Mikuni, is Abel.

I've been stewing on this for a while and, even when compared to my Black Magic Iori, it's far fetched so brace for Impact!

Mikuni is strange and childish, one might even say nonsensical, but he's not completely insane; there must be a reason for Abel and I argue that that reason goes beyond a prop for his power usage.

When Kuro and Mahiru (remember, our main protags? lol) first meet Gear and Youtarou, they see a doll that looks just like Abel. This implies that, at some point, some how, some where, Mikuni most likely came into contact with Gear and Youtarou (adding credence to my belief that Mikuni is aware of Tsurugi's background).

Youtarou places some of Mahiru's hair in the doll, claiming that it will mimic him and Kuro will hopefully confuse the doll for Mahiru.

It's logical to assume that Abel would have the same properties.

Abel who is in Mikuni's possession.

And Mikuni who, up until this point, has theoretically been running around with the creators blood.

If he injected Abel with it what would happen? Would it confuse Tsubaki? Would it interfere with whatever summoning spell thing he's attempting? Would it be enough to destroy whatever fragile spell Tsubaki is weaving?

I have no idea! 🎉

Time to draw your own conclusions, my friends~

Part 1

Part 2

#servamp #MORE RAMBLING #is anyone going to stop me?#Mikuni Alicein #Tsurugi Kamiya #Mahiru Shirota #theory shit #part 3 #my writing

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Ambush of Love

Author: @eiramrelyat

Prompt: I’d like to have an Everlark prompt of Peeta making a pile of leaves and leaving one for his kids to ambush him and have a leaf fight. We used to do this with my dad. [submitted by @mega-aulover]

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: I had fun writing this, and thought it was the right amount of fluff for fall.Again, thank you @jroseley for being an amazing proofreader!

____________

“Katniss! I’m here,” she heard Peeta call from the entryway.

“In the kitchen!”

Ivy banged on the top of her highchair, another tantrum brewing from spilling her Cheerios onto the floor. Katniss sighed and bent down to pick them up, feeling rather exhausted from three long nights with a sick toddler. Thankfully, Peeta offered to help her out on his day off, even though she opposed the idea at first.

She felt terrible that he rearranged all of his plans for the day, but she swore she’d make it up to him somehow. She could always give him Madge’s number from work; he seemed to like her when Katniss invited him to her company’s Christmas party last year…

Moments later, he popped his blonde curly head into the kitchen, the deliciously savory aroma of cheese buns from the bakery following him. He stopped to place a kiss on Ivy’s forehead. “Hey, I brought lunch.” Katniss couldn’t stop the smile that pulled on her mouth. She also didn’t miss how Ivy’s screams quieted to mere babbling. As though the sight of Peeta turned her mood around too.

What did she ever do to deserve a best friend like Peeta?

“Thank you,” she breathed, dumping the cereal from the floor into the trash.

He placed the white box on the counter. “How’s she feeling?”

“Better, I think. She’s had quite the grumpy temper, though.”

He laughed. “Sounds like she takes after her mother.” She attempted a scowl until the sound of Ivy laughing with Peeta made it difficult. Peeta moved over toward the sink and began cleaning the dishes left from the night before.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I didn’t have time to clean after work.”

He shrugged, giving her one of his crooked smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Plus, I get to hang out with my two favorite girls today.” A part of her knew he only said it to be nice. Still, her heart fluttered in her chest, and she hid her blush by turning to clean off Ivy’s highchair. “Hey, I can clean her up if you want to go take a shower.”

Katniss protested, but Peeta stuck a cheese bun in her hand and shooed her out of the kitchen. She stopped to give a now babbling Ivy a kiss on the top of her head, feeling a bit relieved to have a moment’s peace to herself. Even if it’s merely changing from her dirty pajamas to some clean clothes.

She loved being Ivy’s mother and wouldn’t change it for the world. Yet, between the regular errands that came with being an adult and single parenting, she hardly had a few good minutes to herself. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she dressed up and went somewhere decent, aside from the occasional company function.

She had dated no one since before Ivy was born. Just the single one-night-stand that shook her world in more ways than one. Unfortunately, the guy had zero interest in the pregnancy, and she never talked to him again after relaying the news.

Turning on the water, she stepped inside the shower. Her tired muscles eased under the warm stream of water, tension from so many missed hours of sleep lifting from her shoulders. She stood there for who knows how long before grabbing the soap bar off of the shelf.

After her shower, she’s surprised by how quiet her house was. Not even the sound of Ivy screaming or the clattering of toys echoed throughout the halls. She stepped into the living room, finding Peeta watching a movie on the couch with the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

For a moment, she’s transported to a time when they were teenagers watching terrible movies in his parent’s living room. Their laughs annoying his killjoy of a mother. How she once imagined that she would create a family with her best friend someday… With that thought, she coughed, making her presence in the room known.

Peeta glanced over, offering her a smile as she came to sit on the couch beside him. “I will never understand how she falls asleep so fast for you and not for me,” she said.

He shrugged. “I’m just good with kids, I guess.”

She scooted closer toward the inviting warmth rolling off of him, and Peeta moved his arm to the back of the couch. “Maybe you should have been a nanny instead of a baker.”

His mouth quirked. “Or maybe I could do both.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes slowly drooped at the feel of him rubbing soothing circles into her scalp. She didn’t mean to, but she leaned tiredly into his side and fell asleep.

When she woke up, she had been sleeping so soundly that, for a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Katniss moved to stretch her legs but stopped when she felt a weight on top of them.

She pried one reluctant eye open far enough to see Ivy still fast asleep on the monitor. Then there’s the dawning realization that she was currently pressed up against Peeta. Their legs were intertwined, and he had one arm wrapped securely around her waist. In fact, it was becoming embarrassingly obvious how close they were when she felt something hard against her thigh.

With sudden urgency, she untangled herself from Peeta, making him wake up and look around in alarm. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I… uh,” she stammered, face flaming, then she noticed movement on the baby monitor. “Ivy’s awake. I should probably check on her.” And she scurried out of the room.

~~~~~

Katniss gave Peeta Madge’s number before he left that day and nervously urged him out the front door while she made a lame excuse about needing to wake up early. She didn’t even stop to remember that the next day was Saturday. He gave her a funny look, kissed the top of her and Ivy’s head, and told her he’d see them for their movie date next weekend.

The following week, she expected Madge to come up to her and boast about her memorable date. But she didn’t. Katniss even asked Madge about her weekend, and none of the things she told her involved going to the movies or going out to dinner. Maybe Madge felt awkward talking about Peeta with her?

“So, no hot dates, or anything?” she urged, not paying attention as she over-poured creamer onto the breakroom counter. “Shoot!”

Madge raised a brow, then reached for some paper towels to help wipe up the mess. “No… Katniss, are you feeling okay?”

No, she wasn’t. All she could think about lately was that moment on the couch between her and Peeta. A moment he knew nothing of, but she couldn’t stop freaking out about it. “Well, I… I might have given Peeta your number. And I thought maybe you two went out this weekend.” She watched as Madge’s eyes widened.

“Why? Aren’t you two dating?”

“Oh! No… We’re really good friends… But we… we don’t like each other like that.” Katniss was blabbering, her brain stuck on the notion of her and Peeta dating.

“Mmm.” The look Madge gave her seemed unconvinced. “That’s why you invited him to the Christmas party last year?”

How did Katniss become the one being interrogated? She pushed her glasses up her nose in frustration. “They required you to have a date!”

Madge pursed her mouth in amusement. “I heard Cato had the hots for you.”

“Yeah, well, that guy’s a tool. I would never date him, even if I became desperate.”

“Fair, but it doesn’t explain why Peeta’s always at your house.”

She flushed, feeling stuck on an explanation. “He… well, he…”

Madge shook her head, smirking knowingly. “Sounds like Peeta likes you more than you think.”

With that, she left Katniss to stew on her words.

After her conversation with Madge, her avoidance of Peeta continued for a week, rescheduling their movie date for another weekend. She doesn’t dodge his phone calls, though. Knowing Peeta, he’d grow suspicious and show up on her doorstep before she had a chance to think about everything. But it helped when Prim invited her and Ivy over for a play date that weekend. It made her excuse for being busy more believable.

They sat in Prim’s sunroom. Ivy and Stormy slept on the playmat on the floor, while she and Prim quietly read their books on the sun covered sofa. It reminded Katniss of when they would do homework together as kids- minus the two toddlers.

But Katniss continued to read the same line over, her mind elsewhere. Prim picked up on this, glancing up from the book in her lap.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” she asked softly.

Katniss bit the inside of her cheek, thinking about how to word her question. “What do you think of Peeta?”

Prim closed her book and sat up. “Are you asking me what I think of the guy that we grew up with? The one that babysat me for a year?” she asked, but she doesn’t give Katniss enough time to answer. “That’s a silly question. He might as well be the brother I never had. Why? Are you two finally dating?”

Leave it to Prim to cut right to the point. “Well, no, but I’ve been thinking… Should we be?”

“What do you want to do?”

She sighed, not sure of the answer. “I care for Peeta, I do. But I don’t want him to date me because he feels bad for me. I’ve perfectly managed to be a single parent for a year. I just… I want him to date me because he cares for me. Not as some charity case that he decided to take on. I don’t need someone to take care of us.”

“Katniss, I know I can’t relate to what you’re feeling but believe me when I say Peeta likes you. More than you know. Why would he spend all of his extra time with you if he thought otherwise?” Her sister paused, her mouth tilting up at the corners. “I wouldn’t doubt that an eligible bachelor like Peeta already has a fair share of requests. Don’t women fawn over men that know their way around the kitchen?”

Katniss rolled her eyes.

They heard Rory coming through the side door, making their conversation no longer private. “Prim, I’m home!”

She offered Prim a faint smile, reaching for her hand across the cushion. “Thank you, Prim. How did you become a better listener? I thought the older sibling had that gift.”

Prim giggled. “Or maybe you just really needed someone to listen.”

~~~~~

Peeta came over for their movie date two weeks later. She almost worked herself into a panic over what she’s going to tell him that at the sound of his key unlocking the front door, she’s startled and jumped up from the couch.

When he walked into the living room, he’s too busy talking about how busy the store was to notice her still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room “… I stopped at the store for some princess movies, but I can’t promise that I’ll stay awake to these.”

She exhaled, nervously adjusting her glasses on her face. “Thank you.”

Then he finally saw they were the only two there.“Where’s Ivy?”

“She’s at my mom’s tonight.”

He gave her a curious grin, brows furrowed.“Okay… Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

It was now or never.

“I, uh, do you want to go on a date? With- with me.”

“Now?” he asked incredulously. Katniss bobbed her head, heart racing. “You realize that I’m in sweats and an old university sweatshirt?”

Licking her lips, she stepped toward him.“A stay in date?” Her voice was hopeful, still expecting him to say no.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I… You deserve more than old movies and leftover takeout!”

She shrugged, taking another step until she stood in front of him.“Our first date doesn’t need to be anything elaborate.”

Peeta looked down at her, silently debating something. She bit her lip, the words “just kidding” ready to spring off her tongue to save her from utter humiliation. “How about I take you somewhere nice tomorrow?” he finally said, and she raised her brows.

“So that’s a yes?”

He nodded, his mouth breaking into a wide grin. Then he reached up to push a stray piece of hair out of her face. “And tonight… I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”

“You don’t have to,” she whispered before grabbing the front of his sweater and kissing him the way she wanted to years ago.

~~~~~

Katniss smiled from her spot on the front porch, as their kids attempted to help Peeta rake up the leaves. Leo, their youngest, having fun with two leaves he picked up off the ground, his little squeals resounding throughout their yard.

“Daddy! Look!”

Ivy had made a small pile of leaves, and Katniss giggled when she stole some from Peeta’s to make hers bigger. It still made Katniss’s heart flutter when Ivy called Peeta dad. At first, it made her emotional, especially since it was the first word to slip out of her mouth. Peeta thought this had upset her, reassuring her that “dada” was easier for babies to learn. When she asked how he knew this, he shrugged and said that he read the maternity book she left on the coffee table while she napped.

Peeta crouched beside Ivy, placing a kiss on one of her rosy cheeks. “Wow, sweetheart, you’re doing such a good job! Why don’t we make an even bigger pile to play in?” Ivy’s face lit up, and she nodded eagerly, her dark little pigtails bobbing under her cap.

Katniss stood up to help, only receiving minor complaints from Peeta about the baby. She poked his side. “I’m pregnant, not fragile. Plus, I can’t allow you three to have all the fun.”

He chuckled, kissing her hairline. “My lovely wife, you are the strongest woman I know.” That was another thing she didn’t tire of hearing. Being called his wife.

“And don’t you forget it,” she leaned up, brushing her lips against his jaw, “my husband.”

Behind them, she heard giggling, and she peeked behind her shoulder to find the ball from Ivy’s cap sticking out of Peeta’s pile of leaves. Her mouth quirked, and Peeta joined in on their daughter’s little game.

“Leo, where did your sister go?”

The little toddler released an excited squeal and started crawling toward Ivy. Katniss lifted him up just in time before an explosion of red and orange littered their yard again, their giggling four-year-old revealing her hiding spot.

“Daddy, I’m here!”

Peeta scooped up Ivy, all four of them laughing. Katniss couldn’t be happier with leaves sticking out of their hair and clothes. And as she looked over at Peeta, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #submission #by eiramrelyat

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

Text

Happy Holidays (Nathan Young x Reader)

A/N: Just a fun little Christmas party with the crew, referencing some things from the Christmas Special but not most of them, because we’re pretending they had a bit more of a nice, normal holiday. Winter Prompts: Gingerbread; Mistletoe Word Count: 2118 Cross Posted to AO3: here

Humming along to the carols belting out from the tv speakers in the next room, you bustled about the kitchen. Nathan had been barred from “assisting” you today while you made a variety of treats to bring to Simon and Alisha’s Christmas Eve get together later, after he ate as much of your sugar cookie dough as you managed to get onto the baking sheet. Your friends had been surprised when you offered to handle all of the desserts for the shindig, but you loved to bake and always looked for any excuse to. Besides, it had been a while since you’d done something elaborate, and you had a plan that, honestly, your friends would probably just dub cheesy.

The plan was gingerbread, but you set aside seven of the cutouts that you were going to turn into cookie-portraits. You wanted to make sure these were perfect, carefully rolling bits of gingerbread to create Nathan and Alisha’s curls, using a fine-point food color pen to draw on Curtis’s cross, custom mixing the shade of blue icing for Simon’s eyes. It was incredibly time-consuming, but honestly, you loved the work, and couldn’t wait to see their faces.

You were piping icing on some of the more generic gingerbreads when Nathan’s voice startled you, making you jump and leave a mess of icing smeared across one.

“Y/N!” you boyfriend whined from the next room. “Ye must be done by now. Ye’ve been at it for hours and I’m so bored!”

“Have you wrapped the gifts?” you called back.

You had a pretty good guess what his answer would be, but you weren’t letting him get away with doing no work to get ready for the party, or for Christmas dinner with his mom and her boyfriend (a prospect that still had you sweating, since this would be your first time meeting them as Nathan’s girlfriend).

“Why d’ they need ta be wrapped? It’s just gonna get torn off again. Figured we’d just stuff em in some leftover takeaway bags.”

“Nathan, we are not wrapping our presents to our friends and family in shopping bags.” You came to the kitchen doorway to glare at him, hands planted on your hips.

Suddenly he sat up from where he lounged on the couch, looking at you with a hungry gaze that made you swallow nervously, even as your stomach twisted in anticipation.

“Ya know,” he mused, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “I’m not one for food in the bedroom, but I might make an exception with ya lookin all cute and frostinged like that.”

“Don’t even start. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work,” you scolded.

He quirked an eyebrow, rising to his feet and stepping closer, a challenge written across his face.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, smirking as he got close enough that he was looming over you.

“Simon and Alisha’s party is in an hour and I’m nowhere near ready, the cookies aren’t done, and you still need to wrap the gifts for Secret Santa. I will not be distracted.”

“Yer face says otherwise. I see the way yer checking out the goods.” He leaned in, eyes drifting to your mouth. “We can be quick. Or fashionably late.”

“No. Absolutely not. I know how hard Alisha worked putting the whole thing together, I am not ruining it by being late because you're too horny for your own good.”

Suddenly he surged forward, licking a long stripe along your cheek. Recoiling, you grimaced and wiped aggressively at your face in an attempt to get the saliva off.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I told ye, you look good enough to eat, all covered in frosting. Even better than the cookies. Couldn't help myself.” He shrugged, shoving his hands nonchalantly in his jeans pockets.

“You're disgusting.”

“Ye love it.” He grinned cheekily at you.

As much as you hated to admit it sometimes, he was right. Rolling your eyes, you headed back into the kitchen to finish decorating the gingerbread, trying your best not to think about his tongue on your skin, cheek or elsewhere.

“You didn't have to wear the sweater, you know,” you teased Nathan as the two of you rode the elevator up to Simon and Alisha's loft.

“I know, but ye gave it to me, so it's special. Plus it'll drive the others nuts with how hideous it is!” He chuckled, pre-amused at their reactions.

“Terrible,” you said, shaking your head ruefully.

He blew you a cheeky kiss before hauling open the door and making an ‘after you’ gesture. The next few moments were a blur of greeting hugs - especially from Alisha who was so excited to be able to actually hug you that she actually willingly gave one to Nathan as well - and being bustled about to set your things down (coats on the bed, presents under the tree, goodies on the counter). Keeping the littlest box with you, you sat down on the couch, and your friends gathered round curiously.

“I went a little overboard,” you said sheepishly as everyone settled in, Kelly on one side of you and Curtis on the other, the others taking up whatever spaces they could. “So...I made y’all something.”

They all leaned in as you worked the lid off the little tin, revealing your gingerbread creations.

“Oh!” Kelly shouted in surprise. “Y’ made little gingerbread us?”

“They’re so cute!” Alisha added, reaching in.

You grinned, passing them around, particularly enjoying Nikki’s shock that you had made one of her too.

“Of course I did,” you answered with a shrug. “You’re one of us now.”

“I didn’t know you could bake like this,” Curtis said, inspecting the details on his cookie.

You shrugged. “It’s just art in another medium. I love to, though. Used to want to open a bakery as a kid.”

You felt a familiar green gaze on you, Nathan watching in surprise and delight that there was still more for him to learn about you after all your time together.

“But you didn’t make one of yourself?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, I ran out of dough. Besides...self-portraits never come out well.”

“Is it cannibalism to eat these?” Nathan asked suddenly. “Because they look delicious.”

“Since it’s yourself, it would be autocannibalism,” Simon corrected.

“Unless you’re made of gingerbread, I don’t think it’s anything,” Nikki countered, rolling her eyes. “Except enjoying a cookie.” She turned to you and offered a rare smile. “It really was sweet, Y/N, thanks.”

You sipped at your eggnog, feeling warm and tingly from the heavy dose of rum Nathan had included when he poured it for you, amusing yourself by conjuring mistletoe over your friends’ heads at random. Curtis and Nikki seemed done with your antics after you had made them kiss about four times (every time Nikki seemed about to start in on Nathan), and you had played it safe with Kelly and Andrew since you weren’t sure where their relationship stood (still in that adorable newborn awkwardness if both their blushes were anything to judge by). Alisha and Simon on the other hand seemed thrilled by your game, basking in the sheer joy of being able to touch each other and happy to kiss as often as you grew something to prompt it.

Suddenly, Nathan flopped down beside you, bouncing the whole sofa as he brought his curly head to rest on your shoulder.

“I’m bored, Y/N,” he whined.

“You’re always bored, Nathan. Unless we’re shagging. And I’m not about to do that here,” you countered, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he grumbled.

“Excuse me?”

He was silent, and you could feel him shift uncomfortably, settling further into the cushions and crossing his arms petulantly.

“Nathan…” you said threateningly, ready to demand he talk to you if you had to and sleep on that very couch if he wouldn’t.

“I just can’t help noticin’,” he grumbled. “That everyone else is gettin’ plenty o’ kisses, courtesy of ye, but I’m not gettin’ any.”

You laughed. “When you say it like that it sounds like I’ve been snogging all of our friends.”

“That’s not what I mean. But I’m glad my pain amuses ya.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing at his dramatics. But he was right about one thing. Somehow you two had managed to go the whole party without kissing. Suddenly he thrust himself up off the sofa, still clearly frustrated.

“I’m gettin’ more cookies,” he said, half-storming off.

“Is he really upset that you haven’t spent the whole party snogging him?” Alisha said a moment later, sitting down in the spot Nathan had vacated.

“Apparently,” you sighed. “I should probably go talk to him…”

“Let him stew for a bit,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s an ass and totally deserves it.”

Twenty minutes later, you were surprised to notice that Nathan still hadn’t come back, and glancing around the room, that there was no sign of him. Your gut twisting nervously at the idea that he might have actually been upset with you, you started asking around to see if anyone knew where he’d gotten to. Curtis told you that he went out for a smoke and you grimaced, sliding your boots back on to follow your errant boyfriend.

“Nathan?” you called into the darkness, squinting to see if you could spot any sign of him and shivering at the winter chill. “Are you out here?”

“Over here,” he answered.

Following the sound of his voice, and now spotting the faint glow of orange from the end of his cigarette, you made your way over to where he leaned against the side of the building.

“Hey,” you said, pausing to stand in front of him, hands shoved into the pockets of your jeans.

“What are ye doing out here, Y/N?” he asked, reaching out to pull you closer.

Instinctively, you stepped into his space. Trying not to let him feel you shiver, you wrapped your arms around his waist under his coat, feeling immediately warmer.

“Looking for you. I felt bad about our little tiff earlier…” you admitted sheepishly.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyways.”

You bit your lip, hating how sad he sounded when he said it and afraid it was about to turn into one of those self-deprecating moments.

“We’re supposed to be partners. I should have been paying more attention to how you were feeling,” you argued.

“What I’m feelin like right now is that we should get inside before ye turn into a popsicle.”

“Nathan, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N. It’s fine, let’s just go back up.” He wrapped an arm around you to hold you closer and leaned in to purr in your ear. “Unless you’re ready to blow the place and go home? I can finally give you your Christmas present?”

You shivered with desire as much as the cold. “I left my coat upstairs.”

“Who cares? I’ll keep ye warm while we walk.”

“It’ll take two minutes to go back for it. And then we can say goodnight.”

“Fine, but I’m only comin with to make sure ye don’t get dragged back into a conversation and forget.”

You sensed it before the elevator door even opened, and couldn’t help the sly smile that crept across your face.

“What’s with that look?” Nathan asked, arm still in place around your middle.

“Nothing,” you said impishly as you stepped out into the room.

For once your upward gaze wasn’t solely to look at your boyfriend, instead moving past him to the plant hanging above your heads.

“Well, that,” you said, nodding to it.

Thick brows knitted in confusion, he followed your eyes.

“Oh ho ho ho, what’s this then?” he turned back to you with a smirk. “Trying to con me inta kissin ye, are we?”

“Nope. That sprig? Wasn’t me.”

“What do ya think we should do then?”

“With all the shit we’ve been through this year, I can tell you what we shouldn’t do, and that’s tempt bad luck.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond (after all, banter was fun, but you had better things in mind), you stretched onto your tiptoes to plant your mouth on his. Kissing you back, Nathan tightened his grip to pull you flush against him and ran his tongue over your lower lip. Eagerly, you parted your lips for him and he groaned as your tongues danced together.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nikki chimed in after a moment, reminding you that you and Nathan were still at a party and decidedly not alone. “Some of us want to keep down our Christmas dinner.”

#I just want them to have a nice chill time #no drama #no creepy Jesus guy #happy holidays #also revealing a bit more about the reader #and doing cute/silly things with her powers #Nathan Young x Reader #Misfits fic #winter prompts

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satsuma-saturn · 4 years

Text

The Green-Eyed Monster - Leviathan x Reader

A/N: I literally started and finished this last night, so the writing may not be the best lmao. I’ve opened my ask box for requests, so I’m going to start on those, hopefully getting them out as soon as I can

WC: 1672

Warning(s): cursing, possessiveness

fic below the cut

Envy is a hideous emotion, bringing pain to those who suffer from it and those around them. Sufferers of Envy can never be satisfied, always pained by the sight of another’s good fortune. As in the play, Macbeth, Macbeth is envious when he learns from King Duncan that Malcolm will be crowned king next. Being king is what he so desires after the witches tell him of his prophecy. In order to remedy his situation, he resorts to assassinating King Duncan so that he may become king, his wife being the catalyst for his actions. You see Envy as a daily occurrence, when someone wants what others have, but their object of desire is just out of their reach. Even if they obtain their object of desire, when they see something that another has that they want, they are suddenly filled with an envious rage, always wanting to have the best, to be the best.

Yet, when you look into the eyes of Envy, you never see the so-called “Green-Eyed Monster.” Instead you find yourself greeted with soft, golden eyes, filled to the brim with doubt and self-loathing. Sometimes, in your peripheral, you can spot another emotion: longing. When you turn to look at him, he looks away, turning into a blushing, stuttering mess. However, that blushing, stuttering mess is no more when Envy sees you appearing to give more attention to his brothers, always viewing himself as lesser than them. It isn’t fair. Why won’t you pay attention to him? Would you rather be with one of his brothers? Perhaps Lust, or even Pride? Is he not good enough for you? He can be better, as long as you remain his and only his. You can be happy with him, just don’t spend too much time with his brothers. That will only anger him.

“Leviathan.” Your voice is soft as you attempt to get his attention. Still, he refuses to look at you, those golden eyes glued to his tv. The blue light illuminating his face causes him to look washed-out, drawing attention to his already pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. He’s always tired, but refuses to sleep, unlike Belphegor, who you feel sleeps too much. Rather than sleep, he stays awake, vigilantly watching his social media feeds for the release of a new game or anime. “Leviathan,” you repeat, your stubbornness surfacing as you try, to no avail, to grab his attention. Of course, he hears you calling out to him, but he chooses to pretend you aren’t there. It’s less painful than the reality. You hate him. Why else would you go out with Beel to dinner? What does Beel have that he doesn’t? Sure, he isn’t tall or muscular like Beel, but he can be good to you. Perhaps it’s because he’s a yucky otaku that you don’t like him. It isn’t fair. His brothers always had what he wanted, your attention and praise. Still, even as you try to talk to him, his eyes remain glued to his screen, his attention to his anime unwavering.

A small sigh escapes you as you stand in his doorway, unmoving. In most cases, you are the unstoppable force to Levi’s immovable object, but you’re tired. To you, it is clear that he won’t give you the time of day. It has been almost twenty minutes since you first tried to get his attention. Twenty minutes too long to be spending in the doorway of someone giving you the silent treatment. Truth be told, you have no idea why he’s angry at you, which is what you’re trying to figure out. Even if he were to scream at you, it would be better than the silence you’re receiving. At least you would know why he’s angry. If he wants to be angry, then he can be, but you’re not waiting any longer for him to come around. When he’s ready to talk to you, he knows where your room is.

Silently, you exit his room, leaving him to his own devices. You’re sure he doesn’t notice you leave his room, being consumed by whatever brightly colored anime he’s watching. Disappointing, but you should have expected it. He is Levi, after all, the self-proclaimed otaku. It would be like pulling teeth to try to steal his attention from an anime. However, you know that’s not why he’s ignoring you. No, it’s for a different reason, and you’re not sure what. Levi isn’t the type to bottle up his feelings, as he’s normally very open and you will know when he’s upset and why he’s upset, but at the moment, you’re still in the dark. It hurts. Why is he acting like this? Did you do something wrong? What happened to you being his Henry? The Lord of Shadows would never ignore Henry like that.

When you leave, he notices. He’s disappointed and feels a little betrayed at your disappearance, wishing you were still talking to him. Eventually, he planned on responding, but he wanted you to stew in silence first. Clearly, that was the wrong approach. All he’s done is upset you. With a small sigh, he reluctantly stands up to follow you to your room, craving the attention that he’d been receiving from you a few seconds prior. A knock on your door and you’re quick to answer. His heart pangs when he sees your face drop at the sight of him. You were expecting someone else, weren’t you? Maybe you were seeking Mammon, who you’ve been spending a lot of time with. Why does he always get your attention? What makes him so special to you? Why can’t he have what he has? It’s hard for him to understand why you’d even want to give that greedy scumbag the time of day.

“What do you want?” You ask, your voice no longer holding its soft, concerned tone. Why had he sought you out, especially after giving you the silent treatment? What, did he want to hurt you more? Maybe he’s pissed that you left and now he’s come to give you a piece of his mind.

“I…” Levi had followed you to apologize, but now he just wants to know. He wants to know why he isn’t good enough for you. Why do you prefer his brothers over him? It’s not fair!

A sigh leaves your lips. “If you have nothing to say, then I’m shutting the door. Don’t follow me inside. I don’t understand why you’re cross with me, but I’d rather you tell me what I did. Instead, you ignored me. It hurt my feelings, Levi. We’re supposed to be friends. Friends don’t give friends the silent treatment.” You press your lips into a frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

The purple haired demon opens his mouth to explain, but speaks before thinking. “You went with Beel to dinner. At Hell’s Kitchen. You spent a lot of time with him there and I got jealous. Of Beel. What does he have that I don’t? It’s not fair that he gets to hang out with you. It’s not fair that he ate dinner with you when you should’ve been in my room, watching anime with me. Why do you like him more? Do you hate me? Am I not good enough for you?” His questions fly out of his mouth, rapid fire, not giving you the time to consider one question before another one is asked. All you can think is, what the hell?

You laugh, humorlessly. “You’re pissed because I went to dinner with Beel? What the fuck, man? He’s my friend, just as you are. There is no reason to be jealous. You’re just being shitty right now. I probably hang out with you the most, but that’s not enough? You are good enough, and I don’t hate you, but I’m pissed off right now. I’m pissed that you’re angry because I was hanging out with someone other than you. You’re acting so self-important. I don’t want to talk to you right now. Goodbye.” Of course, constantly hanging out with him isn’t enough. He’s the Avatar of Envy. Jealousy consumes him when he sees you with his brothers. It’s too late for more excuses, you decide. Maybe you’re being irrational, but so is he, and two can play at that game. So, you shut the door in his face, leaving him staring at the door, unable to see behind it.

Dejectedly, he trudges back to his room, head hanging low. He fucked up, royally, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. The hurt in your eyes was all too clear, even to a socially inept otaku like himself. Still, he feels as if you could have made an effort to understand him. Despite what he may seem, he is still a demon. Demons aren’t quick to change nature, especially not him or any of his brothers. They each govern a different Sin for a reason. Now that you won’t be spending your evenings with him, who will you spend them with? Maybe Belphegor? The Avatar of Sloth was fond of cuddling you while he slept. Though, why would the demon who killed you deserve your attention more than he does?

The Green-Eyed Monster sits in his dark room, alone and heartbroken.Tears roll down his cheeks and snot dribbles from his nose as he clenches his fists in frustration. You are supposed to be his Henry! A sob escapes him and he wipes his nose on his sleeve, leaving behind a trail of snot. Envy is a miserable, lonely emotion. Perhaps he could have had you, but you slipped through his cold, clammy fingers. Maybe it’s what he deserves for being a yucky otaku, a shut-in. Why can’t he have you? It isn’t fair. What makes his brothers more deserving of his attention? The Avatar of Envy will never know the truth, especially when he only sees through the lenses of his Sin. He is Envy and Envy is he.

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

Alliance

Chapter 9 – The Hunt

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: After recovering you set off to find the man who tried to kill you. Killing him proves to be more difficult than expected when the ones you love are threatened, and on the other side of the choice, your own future.

Authors note: One more chapter to go!! Some angst at the end here! Hope y’all enjoy ❤️❤️❤️! (I also did some very average fan art if y’all haven’t seen it yet!)

Tw: sex is alluded to (not depicted), decapitation, force choke

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles, @seninjakitey

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The planet proved harder to find than expected, despite Anya's best efforts, something was fogging up her tracking causing your coordinates to be constantly in flux. She’d easily lead you past the outer rim, but since then it had been akin to a wild goose chase.

“Any idea who tried to kill you.” Din asks, he'd been exceptionally patient throughout the journey thus far. Never questioning your methods just typing in the new location coordinates calmly and re aligning the ship on its new course.

“Did kill me” you correct, as your hand moves absentmindedly over the healed wound. “but no, I dont. They had a lightsaber though”

“Was it a Jedi?” he asks earnestly.

“Well based on the context clues, I'd definitely say at least Jedi adjacent” you laugh, for a savvy strategist who knew multiple languages you sometimes found yourself questioning if his brain was in fact functioning.

“Why would a Jedi try and kill you?”

“Your guess is as good as mine”

“How do they decide on colors?” He asks after a somewhat awkward silence

“Hmmm” you hum out in confusion, only half paying attention to what he had said.

“The light swords? Ashoka's are blue, yours is purple and the figures, well there's was red” your heart stops.

“It was red?” you ask, sitting up in your seat giving him your undivided attention.

“Ya does that mean something?” He watches your eyes slowly piecing together what he'd just told you.

“That’s impossible, the Sith were defeated. They died with the emperor.” you affirm, your sure red was a common colour used by Jedi nowadays, sure no one had ever seen one before, but there was a first time for everything right?

“So were the Jedi.” he points out.

“Do you always have to be right?” you ask slightly irritated for a reason you couldn’t quite explain. He doesn't respond; he knows a rhetorical question when he hears one but unsure what he had done to upset you. An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air, a sensation you'd never experienced with the Mandalorian before. Not wanting to stew in the quiet you head down to the lower levels and try and calm your frazzled mind. Sitting down you cross your legs, one over the other, as you close your eyes.

On the best of days meditating was a chore, but under the current situation it had become an impossible task. It wasn’t the threat of being ambushed that had you distracted, no something else was playing heavily on your mind. It was what was causing the punctuated silences, forced conversation and overall awkwardness in the atmosphere. It was your own doing. Seriously, who kisses a man whose face they've never seen! Idiots that's who and now it was stuck on your mind. In your defense you thought you wouldn't have to deal with the fallout so quickly. You should have known he’d have insisted on going with you, but you hadn't thought that far ahead, or at all and now you had to sit with the fact that you’d possibly ruined your comfortable friendship by planting one on him. Technically it wasn’t a real kiss,or maybe it was, how did Mandalorians kiss anyways? There you were down the rabbit hole again, this is why you couldn't focus, you curse yourself. Shaking your head you remind yourself it was only done in an attempt to get around him, a strategic move to protect the group, nothing more, nothing less. Keeping that in mind you manage to focus and you feel the galaxy's pulse emitting throughout the ship, inhaling and exhaling with the undulations around you.

Din, bored and missing the usually witty banter you offered him, decided it was time for him to clear the air in regards to the kiss. He hopes by telling you that he knew it was only done to get around him, you’d become more relaxed. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable around him. He knew you'd never want to be with someone like him, at least in that way. As he turns around he sees you cross legged floating in the air, not wanting to interrupt he heads back up. Anya lifts her head as he re-enters, looking at him as if she knew what he was thinking. He’ll clear the air with you later, the two of you had plenty of time to talk.

You curse as your journey gets rerouted for what had to be the twelfth time in the past two days. Whoever was hunting you did not want to be found and no amount of swearing or whacking the console would change that. The closer you got to your destination the more you felt the malevolent presence grow. You found yourself wondering if it had always been with you, finding it hard to remember a time when it wasn't gnawing at your conscience. Each time you feel it scratching at your doors you remember Ashoka's words “be careful who you let into your head.” You'd made that mistake once with devastating consequences. You would not be making it again. Your energy was now primarily being spent keeping the presence at bay, not allowing it to penetrate any deeper than it already had. Sleeping only acted as an open invitation for the figure to torture you so you opted to forgo it altogether. Perhaps not the wisest decision, but what other choice did you have.

“The planet’s still a few days away.” Din says, noting the unraveled look in your eyes as you take your place next to him.

“Anything to do on this ship.” You ask, fidgeting in your seat. “like games or something” he doesn't respond “Hey beskar head! You awake under that helmet?”. You ask partially joking, partially annoyed that he wasn't talking to you.

“Yes.”

“Yes to games or yes to being awake?”

“To games” you smile, you never knew if he was actually making jokes or if you were just reading into it. The finer details of his personality artfully hidden beneath the metal exterior.

“Got Dejarik, you know how to play?” he asks, glad that you were back to yourself for the time being.

“I'm alright” you say smiling, you were better than alright, at least you think. To be fair you'd only ever played against one person and she was family and probably inclined to letting you win.

“You're cheating!” he exclaims, his annoyance apparent even through the modulator. Your skills were better than you expected especially after all those years, well either that or the Mandalorian was just that bad.

“How?” you ask, laughing at how frustrated he was getting. It was funny when you beat him the second time, but by gods it was even funnier when you beat him the seventh time.

“The force!” He says clenching his hand as he stares down at the board.

“I don't think the force bothers itself with helping me beat you at Dejarik.” you point out, as he grumbles something indistinguishable.

“Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are.” You tease pointing your finger at him eyebrows raised and a smirk plastered on your face.

“That’s not what I’ve been told,” he responds.

“About Dejarik or?” he laughs it off, but you seriously wanted to know the answer. After Cara told you he was allowed to have sex it was a question that you’d thought about a lot, more than you probably should have, but hey you were curious. Realizing the Mandalorian was now turning the game board over to see if it was rigged, you decide to change games.

“You still got that indestructible spear. The beskar one?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Yes, not something i'm planning on losing” he nods

“Fancy a match?” you offer you needed to work on your fighting skills, practicing on the air only went so far.

“Only if you promise not to slice through my ship.” He says, standing up.

“Only if you promise not to cry when I beat you.” you return causing him to scoff

“Oh im not going to be the one crying” he assures.

You stand in the ship's far corner across from Din who haphazardly twirls the spear in his hand as you open up your saber, raising it waiting for him to make the first move. He stays his ground, you and him were both defensive fighters and you knew he was far too stubborn to change his routine. Leaping forward you land in front of him, your saber making contact with the spear. After a few seconds spent testing his strength you know there's no feasible way for you to out muscle him. You'd have to out maneuver him. He’d seen you fight stronger opponents before so you’d have to think outside the box on this one. You move out from under the spear the release of your counter force causing Din to stumble forward. You turn aiming for his shin, but his arm reaches back the spear stopping your hit from connecting with his armour. You circle round him so you're once again face to face giving him enough time to stand back up. He turns quickly, swinging the spear as he does, aiming for your waist. You jump over the swipe landing behind him, hitting him in the back.

“Point to me.” you say

“No using the force” he says, turning to look down at you, his presence suddenly looming.

“I wasn't, I can just jump really high!” You lie.

“Likely story” he says brushing past you as he moves back to his starting spot

“What was that I said about crying earlier?” you question.

He's got you talking too long and he sweeps your feet out from under you knocking you on your ass and gently tapping you on the head with the spear.

“Point me” he says, offering you his hand.

“That was dirty” you say as he hoists you up.

“Who says we're playing clean sweetheart?” The term catches both of you off guard, but he's flustered himself more than you, allowing you to land the next two points.

“Hope your ego isn't too hurt darling.” you mock back at him as metal and light collide once again.

“It’s not over yet” he says, using all his strength to march you back towards the wall pinning you against it with his spear.

“You need to work on your attack, you leave a lot open” he says, breathing heavily.

“You need to work on a codpiece, it leaves a lot open” you retort, kneeing him in the groin, hard enough for him to drop you, but not so hard that it kept him down for long.

“Not enough beskar” he murmurs, hoping to get the last word in.

“Oh big brag for a man who just lost several games of Dejarik in a row and” your sentence is cut short as the spear taps the small of your back giving him the winning point

“And what?”

“Oh real classy Din, can’t win a fair fight” you say hand on your hip.

“It was fair considering I wasn't going 100%”

‘Oh you weren't” you mock, the smile telling him you were amused and not upset by his antics, the gentle slap on his arm further verifying this. The moments like this were nice, but as you continue to gain on your target they became fleeting. The Mandalorian watches as your ability to focus waivers, your frustration becoming increasingly evident in your training. Miraculously, you hadn't sliced through anything important, but the ship’s interior was constantly needing to be patched up. At least it kept him occupied and out of your hair. You looked like you were fighting a hidden battle, one he would gladly fight with you, if you'd let him. He didn’t know the full extent of your struggle, but he knew the anger he felt simmering inside you wasn't being aided by your refusal to sleep.

Your irritability, although caused by exerting tremendous energy keeping the figure at bay, was no excuse for the times you had lashed out at the Mandalorian. The most recent outburst occurred when he'd stepped on your foot after you had explicitly told him to watch out. In hindsight, threatening to melt his beskar down and turn it into a hearing aid for him so he could stop being such a nerf herder was a touch harsh. Alright, incredibly harsh especially considering he'd attempted to apologize before you went off on him.

“Sorry I threatened the beskar” you murmur sitting down next to him

“Are you going to tell me what's going on?” he asks

“Going on where” you ask

“Well it can't just be air in your head” he jokes, causing you to laugh for the first time in a few days.

“Seriously though , I'm sorry Ive been out of line, and it's not fair on you, you’ve been so understanding.”

“You know what might help with the outbursts?”

“A lecture?” you remark, your tone harsher than intended

“No, sleep, you should try it sometime”

“I'm fine without it” you say, the yawn escaping your lips contradicting your words.

“You should sleep.”

“ You don’t.” you remark hoping to catch him off guard, but he's obviously rehearsed this conversation a few times.

“ I don’t need to.”

“Neither do I.” You lie, almost a year later and you still had no idea how he slept so little, though your current working theory was that he would just take naps under the helmet when he thought he could get away with it.

“No, you can't sleep, there's a distinct difference.”

Not wanting to lash out at him for the third time that day and knowing he was right, you make a swift exit. You push the button that opens up to the tight sleeping quarters where you'd spent many hours lying awake. You were hoping that you'd reached an exhaustion point where your body would just shut down. You lay back on the bed not bothering with the covers, you weren't expecting to get comfortable. Anya had stopped trying to sleep in the same bed as you, usually getting inadvertently kicked or shoved out the bed by your constant movements. Your eyes can’t have been closed for more than a minute when they snap open. Despite their alertness your body's gone limp. What fresh hell was this? As your eyes adjust to the darkness you can only just make out the hauntingly familiar shape sitting at the edge of your bed. You go to call out for the Mandalorian, but no sound is emitted, nothing comes out at all not even air. You watch helplessly as the figure's arm extends ensnaring you in a choke hold, the yellow iris shining out beneath the hood, confirming your worst fear. A Sith. You scream yourself awake, the force causing items to fly to the ground, no doubt alerting the Mandalorian. You bring your knees to your chest grabbing at your scalp telling yourself it wasn’t real, but it didn't matter what you said. The truth was you couldn’t tell anymore all lines had blurred together. You get up off the bed looking around the room already exhausted at having to clean up yet another mess you had made. You lean over picking up the weapons that had fallen off the armoury hanging them back up when you hear the Mandalorian drop down the sound startling you.

“I'm sorry” you mutter embarrassed, not looking up as you move to grab the few dishes currently lying on the floor.

“What did I say about breaking the ship?” he says, chuckling slightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. He bends down to help you but you grab his arm stopping him.

“I made the mess. I'll clean it up.” You say gathering up the utensil and placing them back on the table absentmindedly stroking your throat as you turn to pick up the rest. As you reach for the chess board he grabs your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you back over to the bed.

“Get some rest, I'll clean up,” he says softly, sitting you down on the bed.

“Stop telling me what to do Din, besides it's not working.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I can’t and unless you can think up a way to make me then were shit out of luck.”

“I can think of a few ways.” he mumbles hoping it was loud enough for you to hear.

“Like what? Knocking me out with a blaster?” you scoff

“ A less violent way,” The words leave his mouth before he can fully assess the pros and cons of what he was offering to do.

“Reciting the entire code of conduct of the mandalore race to me?” Gods, how were you still not getting this.

“A less boring way.” He prays that you either catch on or he passes away suddenly so as to save him from any further embarrassment.

“Oh” you punctuate, lips parted slightly suddenly realizing exactly what was being offered to you “you think you can tire me out?”

“Only if you want.” he says, more confident now you hadn't outright rejected him

“Well I have been dying to see what’s under that armour”

“ You’ve seen it before”, and you couldn't wait to see it again.

“Not all of it”

“The helmet stays on,” he asserts.

“Not what I was referring to.” He stands there for a moment unsure how to proceed, not wanting to have misread the situation. “Well are you just going to stand there or are you not a man of your word?” That’s all the encouragement he needs.

“You want me to stop at any time, you just say so cyar’ika”

Once again the Mandalorian was right ; he was able to tire you out. Neither of you say anything after both at a loss for words, and not wanting to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing. You fall asleep with his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the other runs up and down your back. His heartbeat lulling you into a deep sleep, his presence managing to stay off any nightmares, at least for now.

He stays with you long after you’ve dozed off watching your back rise and fall in time with your breathing, he thanks the gods you were finally resting. He intently studies the faint purple markings covering your body, wondering how long they'd been there. His hand then tracing over the scars on your back, he wants to know how you got them. He wanted to know everything. Once this was all a distant memory he’d ask, if you chose to stick around that is. Knowing you won't want to find him in your bed when you wake up, he slides his arm from your waist and quietly, so as not to wake you, he puts his clothes back on. Re-donning his armour he heads back upstairs to check on the ship.

Your body shivers inadvertently at the loss of heat and your eyes slowly open. The room’s still dark, but the Mandalorian had gone. He must have left sometime in the night presumably his way of telling you it was a one off. Knowing Din to be a man of few words you knew talking about what had just happened was fully off the table. You sit up and stretch out, allowing your elbows to pop and your shoulders to crack as you roll them out, feeling a way that you hadn't felt in months. Well rested. Making your way over to the fresher you allow the water to wash over you removing any remaining scent attributed to the Mandalorian. After dressing you head up to the cockpit, slightly bow legged from the night before. You’d had your fair share of lovers and for a human, he was very well endowed and very eager to please.

“How far” you ask brushing any thoughts about last night from your head as you shoo Anya off your seat.

“You’re up sooner than I thought.” He says looking at you. He’d noticed the slight stagger in your walk causing him to smirk under the helmet, but the smile fades when you don’t look down.

“How far are we?” you ask again, picking up Anya who’s refused to move of her own volition.

“Close. About last night” he starts, wanting to make sure everything was okay, and that you weren’t regretting what had happened.

“ Look, we don’t have to talk about it. I know it wasn’t a big deal.” You say.

“It may not be a big deal for you.” you don't know why, but you take that tone as being pointed, referring specifically to your time spent in the rings.

“Why? because I've slept with half the galaxy? Something I did in order to survive an environment let’s not forget you put me in?” you spit out

“ No, I-I didn’t mean,” he starts. It's the first time you've ever heard him stumble over his words.

“ You never do.” You say, shutting him up for the remainder of the trip.

“Dropping out now.’ He says, 5 days, that's how long it had taken to get to where you were going, whoever was on the planet was committed to not being found, or at least committed to having you as sleep deprived as possible.

You step out with the Mandalorian close behind you, the planet's surface reflecting the ship's underlights back into its metal exterior. The mirrored rock had sprouted out into various forms and sharp geometric shapes, resulting in a beautiful, but sinister skyline.

“You sure this is the place? Doesn't look like any living thing could survive here.”

“Yes, I can sense a disturbance. You stay here with Anya.” you say placing a hand on his chest plate.

“No way.” Din responds

“I have to do this alone. It's too dangerous for you.”

“For me?” he says in disbelief.

“Wait here if i'm not back within the hour, leave.” You state ignoring his last question.

“ I'll give you two for good measure” he offers, holding out a blaster for you to take.

“It won't help.” You say pushing it back towards him before pulling up your hood and setting off into the unknown. Once he's sure you're out of sight, he follows you.

You close your eyes, letting your senses lead you through the sharpened planet careful not to cut yourself on the dark obsidian refelcting blurred images of the stars. A rock snaps under your foot and your eyes open. A voice calls out to you, uttering your name.

“Who are you.” you ask aloud, turning to face the cloaked figure who stands before you.

“ That is not important” he answers, lips not moving. Telepathy. So that’s how he'd gotten into your head.

“You tried to kill me I think it's at least relevant.” You return in thought.

“You came alone.” he asks, yellow eyes darting from side to side, despite the power this figure held you send a nervousness harboured deep within him, perhaps you should have brought the Mandalorian along with you.

“ Yes” you lie, hoping your force was strong enough to shield the bounty hunter.

“Good.” he snarled.

“Why did you kill me.” you ask not wanting to beat around the bush

“To see if I could. I needed to see your abilities, you’re stronger than I thought if you brought yourself back to life. The empire is rebuilding”, he offers not clearing the situation up in the least

“The empire died with Palpatine, they’re nothing but warmongering desolates now” you say shaking your head, not believing you had flown halfway across the galaxy for this.

“That’s what they have told you. We have been growing an army, led by the spirit of the emperor. We are seeking those with your abilities to help us rebuild.”

“You’ve lost your mind. The Sith were defeated long ago, the Jedi with them.” You turn to leave, no longer fearing this man, he holds no power over you.

“No” he shrieks, the sound drawing your gaze back to him, the noise frightening you slightly “You cannot leave. You cannot go. You will join us and rebuild a stronger galaxy.”

“I have no interest in joing a cult of fear and genocide.” you state calmly.

“It is more than a cult I offer you, something much better, power.” he was getting desperate, a few more days without sleep and you may have fallen for it.

“Power to what? Give you all the blood in my body so you can commit futile experiments on innocent people. You cannot create force sensitivity nor can you push it on someone who it has not chosen. Join you? No, I'll have to pass. Death and destruction will not be my path.”

“Not yet, but it will be. I see it in you, the pain, the sadness, the loneliness, that will all disappear once you join us.”

“Over my dead body” You say drawing your sabre. A violent clash of red and purple ricochet off the mirrored rock, lighting up the shadowed planets.

“Your grandmother trained you well.” He exclaims.

“ If you knew her then you should know that i'd never turn” You continue the fight. Managing to back him into a rock wall. Holding saber at his throat the light purple hue gleaning in the yellow irises beneath his hood.

“I understand why you ambushed me, not much of a fighter are you.” you snarl, pushing the saber into the robe, the scent of burning fabric filling the air. Then you feel it, the pulse of the fibers interwoven throughout the galaxy, something’s amiss. Something else appears under the glow of you saber, yellowed teeth, smiling under the light. You release him pushing yourself back, he wants you to kill him.

“ Do not fear it, I have seen this moment. It is what begins your reign”

“No” you say aloud to yourself, “No” you repeat turning off the saber and turning to leave.

“If you let me live, I kill the man with you.”

The Mandalorian whose been watching from afar hasn’t heard a word spoken in a while, watching you move towards him he thinks it must be over, whoever this person was, Sith or not, you must have come to an agreement. He almost walks out from his hiding spot when you stop dead in your tracks. He sees you look up, your eyes meeting his but only for a moment, before you pivot back to face the man.

“There’s…” you start.

“Don’t play me for a fool child, I have been playing this game long before you were even a thought in your mothers pretty little head. I know he is here. I know what you feel for him. You kill me and in time you will betray him, but you’d rather that, than lose him altogether.”

There's no thought process, no decision to make. With a flick of your wrist you throw the saber. You watch as it slices through the Siths neck before returning to your hand. You close it as his head tumbles to the ground. If Ashoka's words were a warning this, this was an omen. You had made a choice and now a path of irredeemably evil was laid before you. A path you were not prepared to drag anyone else down.

“I know you're there” you say after composing yourself. “I told you not to follow me.” You say making your way to the Mandalorians hiding spot.

“Are you alright? What did he say to you?” he asks, reaching a hand out for your arm.

“Nothing.” You say dodging him. The less he knew the safer he'd be. You weighed your options in your head on the walk back, but you knew there was only one way to avoid harming anyone. You had to hide away, become anonymous. Fall back into legend, never to be seen again. It was the only way Grogu would be safe, it was the only way Cara would be safe, it was the only way Din would be safe. As the ship takes off you say three words that would change everything.

“Take me home.”

“We're on route to Hoth now,” he says reassuringly.

“No, take me to my home. Grogu is back and safe. Our deal is done. Our alliance is over” You say, eyes plastered to the windshield.

“What did he say to you?” Din stresses, but you don’t answer. Silence was the only way to stop him from convincing you to stay.

“Don’t shut me out” he says slamming his hand on the panel. You don’t flinch, you don’t even look up. “We can figure this out together.” He says softly, if you hadn’t known any better you would have thought he was pleading with you.

“You’ve done enough. Take me home. If you don’t the force will.” He resets the GPS coordinates before standing up and dropping downstairs. Anya muzzles into you as you let out a sigh blinking back the tears you felt forming.

#alliance #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x you #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x y/n #mando x reader #chapter 9

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

Text

The Name Written on My Heart

Sequel to Name on a Coffee Cup requested by Anon. Happy Valentines/Galentines Day my darlings!

Modern!Tommy and Ava continue their relationship outside the cafe.

After his first date with Ava, Tommy felt like his heart was slowly being restarted. After Grace passed, he assumed that the rest of his love would be given to Charlie. But even then, he felt like he was failing.

Oftentimes his son would much rather go spend the day with his aunts or uncles or have playdates with friends. Polly assured him that it was natural for the young boy to want to be independent as he got older. But still, Tommy felt like he was always the second pick for Charlie and he was afraid it was because he just wasn’t enough for the boy.

When Ava began to spend time at Tommy’s flat, Charlie gravitated toward her like a magnet. Not that Tommy could blame him. She was much better at interacting with him. She wasn’t afraid to get down to his level to play and go along with his wild imagination. Still, Tommy was a bit dismayed he wasn’t the kind of father Charlie needed.

Until he subconsciously took cues from Ava to relax a bit. He wasn’t as strict and felt like his relationship with Charlie was getting better and more natural.

~~~~~~~~~~

On the other hand, Tommy was easing back into a serious relationship. There were a few roadblocks along the way. Around Halloween one year, Ava came over to carve pumpkins and bake some sugar cookies in the shape of bats and ghosts. Charlie had a ball and demanded that Monster Mash be played over and over again as he darted around the living room on a sugar high. When he finally crashed, Tommy carried him to bed before helping Ava clean up the mess in the kitchen.

“It’s late.” She noted.

“Yeah, I’ll drive you home. Don’t want you taking the tube this late.”

“Oh.” Ava glanced by the door where she’d left her bag. The bag that she had packed a change of clothes and her toothbrush in. Her face went red as she realized how stupid it was that she thought it would be the first night she might sleepover.

Tommy read her expression and paused. They’d been dating for quite some time. Almost two years at that point. He was even beginning to think that maybe they would spend the rest of their lives together. He could certainly see it happening, even if it was a bit soon to know for sure. And yet, there was always that hesitation that he felt. The protectiveness he had for Charlie. The thought that Tommy didn’t deserve love. The fear that he would lose someone else that he cared so deeply about.

“I understand, it’s alright,” Ava said as if she could read his mind.

Tommy didn’t move for a moment. Half of him wanted her to stay, half of him wanted to just drive her home so he could be by himself. Something he thought he deserved. She was far too kind and forgiving for him. Far too sensible. Far too sweet. Far too understanding.

“Stay.” The word came out before Tommy could realize what he’d said. “I want you to stay. You belong here…you’re perfect with Charlie and you get him better than I do. I know I don’t deserve you but I would do anything to have you here, even if it’s just for a night.”

Ava hugged him close and kissed his cheek. “I think you’re selling yourself too short.” She murmured. “Charlie adores you and so do I.”

Tommy took a deep breath and held her for a moment before she slipped away.

“C’mon, let’s take care of this mess so we can go to bed.” She smiled at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was what Tommy loved about her so much. She made having emotions so much easier. There was no big spectacle of it, she never called him out for feeling upset or depressed. She always knew exactly what to say.

The next year, once Ava’s lease was up, she moved into Tommy’s flat. Charlie was overjoyed that he had there every day. And she meshed perfectly with their schedules. On the days that she was opening the café, she woke up early, around the same time Tommy did. They went about their morning routines and welcomed in Charlie’s nanny who would wake up the boy for school. When Ava worked later shifts, she took care of getting Charlie to school on time. It worked exceptionally well.

Almost to a point where Tommy expected things to go wrong. Everything was going too well and he became very suspicious. About a year after Ava moved in, Tommy self-sabotaged.

~~~~~~~~~~~

One night, Ava had gone out with friends from uni that she hadn’t seen in a while. Tommy was up late working at the flat when she came home. Although a little tipsy, she was coherent as she kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“I take it you had fun then.” Tommy chuckled.

“It really was. Of course, we didn’t close the pub like we did back in those days. My ex-boyfriend wanted to stay but we were all so tired.” She laughed softly.

It set off a trigger inside Tommy. “Didn’t know your ex would be there.”

“Our whole friend group was. We’ve been planning a little reunion like this for a while.” Ava didn’t immediately pick up on his icy tone.

Tommy set down his pen and leaned back in his desk chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Just something I thought you’d tell me.”

“I didn’t think it would matter.” She frowned and withdrew her arms. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

He didn’t answer, looking ahead at his laptop on a home screen.

“Tommy, honestly.” Ava tried again to make him talk with no avail. “We dated years ago. I’ve been dating you longer than I’ve ever dated anyone else. You really think I’d throw that all away?”

Tommy simply shrugged.

She scoffed at his attempt to be blasé to the issue when she knew he was stewing inside. “You’re impossible.” With a huff, she stormed out of the room and went to the bedroom, locking the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~

The next day was even worse. After spending the night on the couch, Tommy felt like an ass for what he’d done. Although it wasn’t an argument like they’d had before, it still cut deep. He had basically spelled out that he didn’t trust her. It wasn’t entirely true. Tommy trusted Ava because it was unlike her to be unfaithful. But he didn’t trust the world. He’d seen what could happen to good people. In his eyes, Ava had a target on her back because of her tendency to be so warm-hearted and vulnerable.

That morning, Ava had left before Tommy could even get a word of apology in. She didn’t answer his texts throughout the day and it drove him insane. He had to settle for the breakroom coffee because he couldn’t gather up the courage to go down to the café and face Ava.

The rest of the office picked up on the fact that he was in a sour mood. All but Arthur, who walked in whistling to himself.

“So, what’ve you got planned for Valentine’s Day?” The eldest Shelby asked.

Tommy looked up from his paperwork, then to the calendar on his desk. Indeed, Valentine’s Day was that weekend. He’d ordered a custom bracelet for Ava and had it hidden in his desk drawer. But other than that, he’d completely forgotten. “I’m not sure.” He mumbled. “I upset her last night.”

Arthur sighed. “Tom, we’ve talked about this. You don’t think you deserve happiness so you ruin your own life. You can make it up to her. Just put on the ‘ol charm, aye?”

~~~~~~~~~~~`

Ava was giving Tommy the silent treatment for most of the week. He felt it was deserved and just prayed Arthur was right and that he could redeem himself.

Come Sunday, Ava came home from work. She still felt hurt, especially since Tommy appeared to have forgotten it was even Valentine’s Day. But then Charlie rushed to the door.

“Ava, Ava!” He was bouncing up and down. “C’mon!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen.

Tommy was chopping up vegetables. He glanced up and smiled sheepishly.

Ava looked a bit confused. “What’s all this?” There was an array of items all laid out on the counter. Balls of dough were resting on cutting boards next to little bowls of toppings.

“I asked Charlie what we could do special for Valentine’s Day.”

“And I wanted pizza!” The little boy piped up. “Look, he climbed up onto a stool and patted the dough.

A small smile formed on Ava’s face. “Well, that looks fun.” She said and walked over.

“Here, Charlie,” Tommy handed his son the rolling pin. “Try to flatten it, but not too thin.” Then he turned to Ava.

“So, you were scheming today, huh?” She asked.

“Av, I’m sorry.” He took her hands in his. “Whenever I have a good thing, I never think I deserve it. And you’re one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

“I don’t want you pushing me away.” She replied quietly. “If you have an issue, tell me. I’m here to be your confidant.”

Tommy nodded and took a deep breath. He kissed her softly.

“Daddy, s’a square pizza!” Charlie exclaimed.

The two pulled away and chuckled. Indeed, the little boy had rolled the dough out into a square.

“I guess it’ll taste the same.” Ava smiled and went over to help him.

Tommy lingered to the side a bit, watching her with Charlie. The two laughed as they made a mess with the sauce and cheese.

This was a good thing. He would hold onto the good and keep it close to his heart. Everyone deserved love. Tommy was just thankful that he had Ava and Charlie.

“Daddy, look,” Charlie called.

Tommy chuckled when he saw a smiley face made of pepperoni on the pizza. “Why don’t you make it a heart? It’s Valentine’s Day.”

His son made a face. “That’s yucky.”

“Oh, Charles, you won’t be my Valentine?” Ava pouted.

“No, gross. Girls are gross.”

“Are they, then?” Tommy raised an eyebrow then went to give Ava a big dramatic kiss.

“EW!” Charlie pulled his shirt over his head to hide his face.

They laughed. “Alright, alright. I guess your dad will be my Valentine. And maybe we can add a nose to the smiley face.” Ava put another piece of pepperoni on the pizza. “Go on and add some peppers and onions. I’ve got to get your Valentine gifts.” She washed her hands and went down the hall.

Tommy took the cue and grabbed Ava’s necklace from his briefcase.

Ava returned with two wrapped gifts. “Charlie, love, this is from dad and me.” She gave him a box which he happily tore into to find an art supply kit.

“Wow, cool! Thanks!” He beamed.

Ava and Tommy exchanged gifts as well. He opened his to find a photograph of his newest racehorse with his name, Kingsman, carved into the silver frame.

“To add to your collection.” She smiled knowing that Tommy kept a photo of all of his winning horses in his office.

“I love it.” He remarked at the stunning picture of the pure black stallion.

Ava didn’t answer. She had opened the jewelry box to find the silver necklace with a teardrop diamond pendant. She had never owned anything so beautiful before. “Tom…” Her eyes welled up with tears.

“D’you like it?” He asked hesitantly.

“Of course.” Her voice shook. “It’s gorgeous, thank you.” She touched his cheek and kissed him deeply.

“Daddy, I don’t like mushrooms, I’m not putting mushrooms on the pizza.” Charlie interrupted them.

“Alright, it was worth a shot.” Tommy sighed and went back over to the counter.

“That looks very nice, Charlie.” Ava praised. “Why don’t we let dad put it in the oven and we can check out your new art supplies.”

“Okay!” Charlie hopped down from the stool and carried the box to the kitchen table.

Ava kissed Tommy’s cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She said softly.

//It felt so funny writing the tube. Like I feel like it’s some sort of slang that Americans think British people use but they don’t? In my city we call the subway the T. That’s also stupid but our subway lines are bastards who don’t deserve full names or loving nicknames. Fuck you T.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

PB Masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelbyxofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #one shot #cillian murphy

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petals-and-bullets · 3 years

Text

Spirits III

Pairing: ? x Reader

Word count: 1237 words

Info: Please read the prologue before reading this fic! You can find the prologue here, Part One here, Part Two here, and moodboards for Axl, Izzy and the reader’s birds here, here and here respectively! Maybe William and Jeff were bad influences on you. But maybe you wanted to let them be bad influences. Especially when you found yourself in LA.

A/N: This is another experimental piece; it’s an AU - everything is the same, albeit the fact that everyone has wings and can transform into birds. I will be answering questions in my ask box if anyone has any (please do send some in, it can help me clear up the lore a little better in my own mind while I’m writing!). I hope you enjoy it, and please do give me any feedback you have!

Tag List: @dustnbones @ubernoxa @star–wolf @slashscowboyboots @smokeandmirrorz @littlemisscare-all

Maybe you shouldn’t have left them in the middle of the morning, you noted, as you pushed past crowds of annoyed people in suits and ties, on their way to work.

Maybe you shouldn’t have walked out without grabbing your umbrella first, you noted, as the heavens opened and it began to pour, your hair sticking to your face as you hunched your shoulders up to your ears and wrapped your wings around yourself in a somewhat useless attempt to keep yourself dry.

You cursed Izzy out under your breath as you wandered along, digging your nails into your arms as you allowed yourself to get more and more annoyed the more you thought about how Izzy had lied to you, how he had pretended that he hadn’t been doing the very thing you’d both promised to never even look at, let alone touch. And then he just played it off, claiming it to be no big deal. Your eyes narrowed and your feet began to carry you faster, determined to get out of the rain and away from your anger, if only for a moment.

At least, that was the plan until you had walked into someone, stumbling back with a small huff before you glared up at whoever had failed to clearly see you stewing and failed to move out of the way, only to pause and take in the scruffy state of his wings. Almost immediately, he closed them and pressed them too his back, a sheepish grin being the only answer he had to your silent questioning.

“I’m moulting,” he excused, rubbing the back of his neck before he cleared his throat and offered a hand. You hesitated, not yet buying the excuse he offered; after all, who’s to say he wasn’t secretly Izzy’s dealer? After a moment, you mentally slapped yourself for such an absurd thought and took his hand, shaking it before you tilted your head.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Duff.”

“Duff?”

“Duff,” he shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You merely shook your head, not wanting to debate the question of his name any more than you already had; after all, you were friends with two guys called Izzy and Axl. After a moment of awkwardly staring at each other, he snorted a laugh and you were unable to hold back your own, shaking your head as you stepped back a little.

“… So, Duff, you know anywhere that’s warm and dry so we don’t catch our death out here?”

Duff tilted his head, furrowing his brows in thought before he nodded and took your hand, dragging you over to an inconspicuous looking coffee shop, holding the door open for you gracefully. You regarded him carefully before you smiled and stepped through, noting how much of a brilliant blue his hair actually was; especially compared to the grey and tattered state of his feathers. Once the pair of you were seated at a table, you continued to watch him, before he let out a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck again.

“I get the feelin’ that you’re trying to look into my soul, dude.”

“I’m just trying to understand you. What are you doing wandering around the streets in the pouring rain?”

“I was walking home from work. Why were you wandering around the streets in the pouring rain?”

He raised a brow when you bristled, and looked down with a small glare as you picked up a sugar packet and began to fidget with it, pursing your lips as you mused with whether or not you should give him the truth.

“… Hey. Doesn’t mean you have to tell me if you don’t wanna, you know,” he eventually spoke up, reaching across the table to gently take your hand before you ripped open the sugar packet and spilled its contents across the table. After a moment of watching him through your lashes, you sighed and sat back, dropping the packet.

“The guy I’m living with turned out to be dabbling in coke. And we’d agreed we wouldn’t touch it, but when he got caught he just said it was no big deal. Like, yeah, Izzy, it is a big deal, you dick,” you grumbled, crossing your arms as you glared at the table in front of you. Duff’s head tilted to the side and he furrowed his brows, looking like a confused puppy before he shrugged and sat back.

“Who’s to say he’s doing it? He might be dealing. LA’s expensive to live in, you know.”

“We agreed to not touch it under any circumstances.”

“Maybe he thought you meant not snort it.”

You paused, blinking a few times as you processed what he said. And briefly, you mused that he may have just been right. Your agreement hadn’t been explicitly clear in the terms, and it wasn’t like Izzy thought the same way you did. It wasn’t like he could read minds, either. After a moment, you sighed for what felt like the 700th time that day, before you nodded in agreement to the man’s words.

“You’re right. I guess.”

“You guess? No, you know I’m right, Flutter.”

“Flutter.”

“Yeah, Flutter! Your wings haven’t stopped flutterin’ since we came in.”

“And what do I call you for a nickname? Moulty?”

He snorted, tilting his head back as he held back a laugh, before he shook his head and leaned forward, his eyes trapping yours in a solid, unwavering gaze.

“Try Duff. You know. My actual nickname.”

“Maybe I don’t like Duff,” you shot back, grinning when he pouted at the jab, “but you’re in luck. Because I do. Although… I can’t quite figure out what bird you are.”

He cleared his throat and glanced away, his hand idly scratching at one of his wings before he looked back at you, offering a sheepish smile.

“I’m a swan. We… Uh. We don’t technically hit the adult feather stage until we’re teenagers, and I’m just shy of 20.”

“Ah. Mute?”

“Yeah. Although I’m not exactly part of a mute family,” he let out a chuckle then, and you smiled at the way his smile seemed to just light up the room, regardless of his slight embarrassment at the unkempt state his wings were in. You’d heard about the poor states of those who’d abused substances or were suffering from illness, where their wings barely held any feathers and they were unable to fly. Moulting, though? Moulting made sense. At least, you’d hoped that Duff wasn’t trying to pull your bluff. Maybe he was, especially after he’d heard your ranting about Izzy and his broken deal.

“I know it looks like I’m on somethin’. But I’m not. Promise. Gives me panic attacks,” he admitted, offering you a weak grin before he looked out the window with a raised brow, “quick question. You know the guy who’s been staring at us through the window?”

You glanced over, only to suck in your cheeks in annoyance when you realised that Izzy, the asshole in question himself, was stood in the pouring rain with not even a coat to protect him from the droplets. And even though you were inside and across the street from him, you could see the distinct pain of jealousy cross his face before he turned and stalked away.

“Fuck,” was all you could utter before you dropped your head to the table.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #gnr #gnr fanfic #gnr fic #spirits au #duff mckagan #x reader #guns n roses x reader #izzy stradlin #wow look who's back

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