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kohanayaki · 4 years ago

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.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

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Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them?

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

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“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi

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chyanxrene · 4 years ago

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Sweetheart Part 2

♡ Sweetheart part 1 ♡

♡ Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Y/N

♡ Summary: Draco and Y/N were friend’s with benefits, now that Y/N was avoiding him, it was only a waiting game until he caught up with her.

♡ Warnings: Degradation, pure smut, male receiving

"Y/N have you found an outfit for the ball yet?" Her friend asked from next to her whilst she ate a slice of toast.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and then opened her eyes in realisation that she had forgotten the winter ball that was on Friday.

"Fuck, I forgot."

"We don't have time to go to Hogsmeade, you'll have to wear one of my dresses" her best friend smiled and continued eating.

Y/N nodded, spreading jam on her toast. She was trying to forget about her last encounter with Draco which had left him fuming. She was trying to avoid him, she wouldn't walk down the halls by herself— in case he caught her.

"Y/N" her friend drawled, Y/N followed her friends eye line.

"Why is he staring at you?" Her friend frowned, quickly diverting her gaze back towards Y/N.

Her eyes found his, he was mad, furious actually. His gaze was intense, he sat two tables away. Despite the large amount of students in the great hall, he was only looking at her.

His hand was tightly clenched around his fork, his knuckles whiter than his normal pale skin tone. Y/N felt uncomfortable from his staring— but she couldn't take her eyes off him.

She watched as Pansy Parkinson tapped his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. But Draco didn't flinch, he continued to stare at her in anger, watching her every movement.

Y/N gulped and excused herself from the great hall, she ran out into the corridor only to bump into someone and fall straight on her ass.

"Oh fuck."

"Shit— I'm sorry, here— let me help you up."

Y/N watched the large male hand in front of her, she hesitantly grabbed the hand. He pulled her up, maybe a little too hard as she crashed into his chest.

"Thanks Cormac."

"You're welcome Y/L/N."

There was an awkward silence between the two. Y/N knew him from a few classes but had never spoken to him like that. She knew he could be a player but that didn't alter is good looks.

"Say Y/N, you don't happen to have a date tomorrow yet? If you do that's fine but if not then perhaps I could take you."

Y/N chewed on her lip, a part of her didn't want to go with him as he was a ladies man, another part of her wanted to— as she didn't have a date yet. The ball was the last thing on her mind.

"I'm surprised you don't yet" she laughed.

Cormac chuckled and brushed his hand along her right arm. "Well, I wanted to go with you but I didn't have the balls to ask."

This was news to Y/N, she had never observed any interest from Cormac. She decided to bite the bullet and agree to going with him— besides she didn't want to look lonely.

"Sure, I'll go with you."

"Perfect!" He pulled her into a tight squeeze, she heard him take a deep inhale and then let out a sigh. He was weird— nether the less she now had a date, so she had to prepare.

Y/N said her goodbye to Cormac after an awkward hug and turned around to head to her dorm room. At the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Draco leaning against the entrance door to the great hall.

Her heart was racing, she didn't want to make eye contact with him. She hurried past him, the wind picked up his smell which travelled into her nostrils. Shivers ran down her spine, the smell of Draco was addictive but she had to be strong.

It was the day of the winter ball, Y/N didn't have much time to prepare an outfit so was left with two options, kindly offered by her friend.

"So, there's the red one with the slit— very Christmassy— also very seductive— the slit makes it easy if you want to— well you know what."

Y/N laughed at her friend's dirty mind and watched as she picked the other dress up.

"The black one is cute— it's what you would wear to your enemies funeral— just to show them up" she laughed.

Y/N thought carefully, the black was nice, slightly puffy at the bottom and long sleeves. The red was silk from head to toe, a slit running down the left leg, it was a straight dress— it would be a tight fit.

"The red."

Her friend clapped her hands excitedly and threw the dress over to her. Y/N went to get ready, she took a long hot shower. She done her hair in her favourite style and applied natural make up. She decided to go for a bold red lip, to match her dress.

"Fucking hell."

"Is it too much?" Y/N said worriedly, she looked down at her dress, ironing out the creases with her hands.

"If Cormac doesn't get you in his bed tonight, you'll definitely be in mine!"

Y/N blushed, her friend wore the black dress which complimented her skin tone nicely. She paired it with a smoky eye and nude lipgloss, they both looked good.

"Come, let's go— I have a date with Blaise and Cormac will be waiting for you" her friend said pulling them out of their shared dorm room.

"You look— lovely" Cormac smiled, his eyes went straight to her chest and then to her exposed leg. Y/N scoffed and now began regretting coming with this boy.

She thanked him, shooting him a quick smile. His hand went around her waist, holding her tightly— maybe a little too tightly. Y/N sucked it up, she hoped that she could loose him in an hour and find her friend.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked, his eyes wandered glancing at other females.

Y/N stood on his toe quickly and then retracted her foot "oh my, I'm so sorry, I'm clumsy you see."

Cormac nodded, a hint of anger on his face as he examined his shoe to see if there was any scuff marks. Once he discovered there wasn't he smiled and then went to get drinks.

Y/N stood waiting for her date, she watched as her friend was being twirled around by Blaise. They looked cute together, she couldn't help but feel jealous as she wanted to be treated the same as her friend.

Cormac was taking a while, she glanced over and saw him speaking to his friends, they kept looking over to her and then smirking. Y/N was utterly repulsed— men she thought in her head.

The air suddenly shifted, it was heavier— stuffy, Y/N's breath was caught in her throat as she found it hard to breath properly.

Everyone else continued dancing, she was the only one that was feeling this, and that's when she felt his body behind her. He wasn't touching her, she could just feel him behind her.

She took in a deep breath, and licked her lips.

"You look— beautiful" Draco breathed from behind her.

He had never spoken to her like that outside of sex. Of course he had called her beautiful many times, only when she was sucking his dick, or riding him— oh gosh.

She felt herself grow wet as memories of her and Draco clustered her mind. She had to stand her ground, she can't let him win again.

"Thank you."

"Where's your date?" He said now standing next to her, he didn't look at her, he just faced forward watching everyone dance.

"Getting drinks."

"Mmm, which one is it again?"

"None of your business" Y/N spat.

He let out a short laugh, his eyes finally meeting hers. She turned her head quickly and faced the front again.

"Where's your date?"

"I don't have one."

"That's a shame."

"Is it? Or are you secretly happy about that?" He teased, Y/N's face grew hot, did he know about her crush on him? She thought deeply thinking if she gave away any hints.

Y/N cleared her throat "oh here he comes."

Cormac walked over with two glasses of punch. He eyed Draco and then handed the drink to Y/N.

"Malfoy, everything alright?" Cormac asked, drinking some of his drink.

He hummed, watching Cormac, he looked annoyed "I'm fine, you mind if I have your drink Y/N?"

She frowned at him and shook her head "no— it's mine, get your own."

I looked at Cormac who had a worried look on his face "yeah— yeah get your own Malfoy."

Draco slapped the drink out of her hands, sending shards of glass onto the dance floor. It was too loud for anyone to hear, so no one noticed, only a Hufflepuff who quickly collected the glass.

"Draco what the fuck."

"He put something in your drink" he growled now holding onto Cormac's shirt collar.

"I did not!" Cormac shouted.

"I watched you, you and your little friends had a game going on didn't you?"

Cormac shook his head.

"Who can fuck first? Right?" Draco shouted.

Y/N had heard enough and ran off, she felt embarrassed. She knew Cormac was an ass but she didn't expect that. She wasn't upset or crying, she just wanted to go back to her dorm room.

She felt more embarrassed at the fact that Draco came to her rescue, she should've figured it out herself. Now she was beginning to get annoyed at him.

She turned down a corridor, speeding to her dorm room. Heavy footsteps trailed behind her, she was finally going to be caught by Draco Malfoy.

He tugged on her wrist and pulled her back, she swung around. His other hand pushed her head towards his and he kissed her deeply. Entering his tongue in her mouth straight away.

Y/N let out a whimper and returned the kiss. Draco backed her against the wall, her back hitting the cold stone sharply.

He pulled back, his eyes were heavy which watched his heavy breath.

His finger was raised, he pointed it at Y/N and laughed.

"You— my sweetheart— have been driving me wild."

Y/N could only gulp, his hand slapped the wall next to her head.

"Do you enjoy playing games with me?"

Y/N shook her head quickly, Draco's other hand trailed down her thigh and went underneath her dress. Brushing her inner thighs slowly.

"Answer me!"

"I—I haven't played games."

"You have, you leave me with blue balls, I haven't been able to get rid of them for nearly a week now!"

"That—that's not my fault."

A smirk fell onto his face, his hand stopped moving.

"You're right— maybe it's mine."

Y/N nodded, her underwear now sticking to her wet pussy, his finger grew closer and closer to where she wanted him most. But he didn't touch her, he was teasing her, getting her back for what she'd done to him.

"You know what I want?" He smiled, his thumb brushing her bottom lip, he smudged her red lipstick slightly.

"I want you— to wrap those pretty red lips around my cock."

Y/N moaned at his words, she just couldn't do it, she couldn't let him leave her again when she had all these feelings for him.

Y/N bit her lip and thought to herself— I guess one more time wouldn't hurt, she convinced herself.

Draco searched Y/N's eyes for an answer, then he smirked when he realised she had come to a decision.

Draco looked around and unbuttoned his trousers, he pulled them down along with his boxers. His dick was hard, the head leaking with precum.

"You missed this sweetheart?" He asked wiping the precum off his tip with the pad of his thumb and then smearing it onto Y/N's lips.

Y/N nodded quickly, her tongue darting out to taste his arousal. Draco's hand wrapped around her throat, he pulled her into a hard kiss and then let her go.

"Make me cum" he whispered against her lips.

Y/N fell to her knees, she rubbed up her hand up and down his dick. His hips bucked forward as he felt her thumb brush across his sensitive tip.

Draco's hands tangled in her hair "show me how much you missed me."

He pushed her head forward, his eyes never leaving her. She ran her hand up and down again, stroking the prominent vein on the side, her mouth opened.

Draco guided his tip first into her mouth, Y/N's lips instantly wrapped around it, swirling her tongue to taste him.

"Fuck."

He pushed her head further, forcing her to take more of his thick cock. Her mouth widened, she struggled to take in everything, so what she couldn't she pumped with her hand.

She hollowed her mouth, sucking as hard as she could. Draco groaned at this and gripped her hair harder.

Y/N choked suddenly, feeling his tip hit the back of her throat. Her mouth filled with more saliva, she looked up at Draco, he smirked and pulled her off him.

Multiple strings of her spit were still attached to his his dick from her mouth. Her eyes were watery and her mascara was now running. Draco looked at her like she was an angel.

He traced his tip along her lips and then prodded them, forcing her to open her mouth.

Y/N sucked in a breath, she knew what was coming. She held onto Draco's thighs and he thrusted hard into her mouth. He done this many times until Y/N was sobbing. Her vision was blurry and her mouth was swollen.

"Fucking— love— your— filthy— mouth" he grunted each word. Spit was falling out of Y/N's mouth onto the floor, she looked up at Draco, his head was thrown back, his mouth was parted as he continued to fuck her mouth.

He suddenly pulled out of her mouth and grabbed her forearm. He dragged her up "lift up— your dress."

Y/N quickly wiped her mouth and lifted her dress, Draco looked around again, to see if there were any onlookers. Not that that would make a difference now.

Draco held both sides of her underwear and snapped them, a stinging sensation running through Y/N's body.

He lifted her up, her legs were over his arms as he used the wall to balance his hands on.

"Fuck— I missed you" he whispered, he lined his dick to her entrance and then pushed inside of her.

Y/N's head flew back, Draco let out a strained groan as he pulled out and pushed back in again.

"So tight— you make it hard for me to last long."

She couldn't speak, she was in a total state of bliss, her eyes were screwed shut as he thrusted in and out of her. She moaned his name feeling his cock fill her up sweetly.

Draco moved at a faster pace, the angle made his tip rub against her g spot repeatedly.

Y/N was whimpering, crying his name as she felt her orgasm approach fast.

"You're mine— aren't you?"

Draco thrusted harder, lifting her up slightly higher so he could push into her deeper.

"Fuck— tell me you're mine!"

Y/N's head fell forward, they looked into each others eyes and she nodded quickly.

"Say it— I wanna hear you say it."

"I'm yours Draco."

He slowed his pace, giving Y/N short, deep, thrusts. She was close now, his head leaned in and sucked onto her neck, leaving red and purple marks behind.

He then thrusted one final time hard, which sent them both over the edge. Y/N came moaning his name, Draco let out 5 curse words in one short sentence.

His forehead leaned on hers as he tried to catch his breath. His lips kissed her forehead as he finally let her down.

Y/N pulled down her dress as Draco pulled his boxers and trousers back up. It was silent, no words were spoken between them, both were still reeling from the amazing sex they had just had.

Draco's back was turned from Y/N's, she heard him zip up his trousers "I'm not sleeping with her."

"What?"

"Don't be stupid— you know who I'm talking about."

"Right, I didn't care if you did anyway-"

"You did."

He smiled and turned around, he strolled towards Y/N, he brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face, pushing it behind her ear.

Y/N's eyes were watering, she didn't want to cry in front of him, but all her emotions were coming at once and she couldn't handle them all. She sucked in her tears and remained calm.

"I—I don't want to do this anymore" Y/N whispered, her head faced her feet.

Draco placed a kiss on her cheek "good because neither do I."

Y/N looked at him, she was confused at what he meant by that.

"What does that mean?"

He let out a laugh and smiled "I want you to go back to your room, burn the list of rules and then come back to my room."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and then widened her eyes realising what he had just said.

"But—but Draco?"

Y/N was worried what everyone would think about her being with a Slytherin— let alone Draco Malfoy.

"I don't care anymore— now be a good girl and do as you're told."

"Right, okay."

Y/N went to walk off but he pulled her wrist, forcing her against his chest. His mouth found hers as he engulfed her into a wet kiss. Y/N pulled away before they got too carried away.

"See you soon— sweetheart."

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #dracosmut #smut #draco x y/n #harry potter #harrypotter #dracomalfoysmut #dracomalfoy #draco malfoy smut

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crystalelemental · 2 years ago

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Fire Emblem Engage! I am...very pleasantly surprised by this one. Initial thoughts through Chapter 6 below.

As expressed by many, the story isn’t like...a huge deal. It’s very much back to basics, in a way that’s like...if you were looking for Three Houses style again, it’s a downgrade, but if you’re familiar with the series has been, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.

That said, I think they’re building up to Lumiere wasn’t your real mother, you’re the child of the Fell Dragon instead. She refers to becoming your mother, not being your mother. One of the antagonists mentioned that she never had a child. There’s just a lot pointing to “She’s not your real mom.”

Characters have been...better than expected? Nothing exceptional but I like them well enough. Framme’s my girl, I really like Celine and Chloe, Yunaka’s fairly interesting. I wound up liking Louis pretty well, and Alfred isn’t what I expected but I like the guy. What I think surprises me most is...I kinda like Alear? They’re not too bad. Like, their dialogue has gotten a good chuckle out of me a couple times, and their decisions are, for the most part, pretty sane. Like okay yeah, why are we stopping to fight, let’s just run the fuck away. Sane move.

Gameplay has been fun. The engage rings are...kinda bonkers. Alear and Marth are basically untouchable with all the avoid stacking, and you get a ton of attacks in. It’s kinda nuts. I gave the Sigurd ring to Chloe, who is...a metric ton of fun with it. She’s kind of nuts, having such wild movement range and no terrain considerations, and Canter, and the ability to charge through enemies. Then there’s Celine and Celica. Oooooh my god. Whoever thought Warp Ragnarok was a good idea? I hope you live a long, prosperous life, because that shit rules. Warp up to 10 spaces to be near an enemy and cast Explode Kill Die on them. It’s one-shot like every boss. I love her. I haven’t gotten to use Micaiah beyond the initial run with Yunaka, but getting a second staff user and light magic out of the deal is pretty great. But I’m also like...but Framme though. Better healing potential. I dunno, will consider options.

The only thing that seriously frustrates me is the chain attacks. I don’t understand them at all. Boucheron seems to be the only one in my army who can do it, but in one chapter, Vander almost got destroyed by a Ridersbane chain attack. Like it’s kinda nuts how hard that hit. And I don’t really grasp why it happens. It’s not my favorite.

What is kinda neat, though, is the way weapon triangle works. I admit, I am generally a huge hater of Break systems. But this one’s pretty solid. You don’t get counterattacked, and you leave the opponent vulnerable to the next combat in this round. It’s been a great method for helping Framme get some KOs. And it doesn’t work on enemy phase, so it’s a neat tool to encourage more aggressive plays.

I’ve also noticed that enemies move mostly in packs. When one is drawn out, usually a whole cluster is, probably to run the threat of chain attacks. Moreover, the boss seems to move pretty often too. That’s...pretty unique. I’m really used to stationary bosses in this series, but quite a few have gotten up and chased. Which is kinda nice.

The last thing is...man, not to dunk on Three Houses, but that game is like impossible for me to replay. The academy sections are so long and drawn out and tedious, and I appreciate Engage having a much faster turnaround time to the next map. There’s still your hub world that’s...fine. Really, all it’s done for me thus far is get me really, REALLY pissed that they had better costuming decisions that whole time and just...opted not to use them. You give me one fucking reason the Somniel outfits aren’t standard. Ugh. Anyway. It’s not a bad hub world. I haven’t felt like I needed to do too much, and it’s, again, a really quick intermission before the next map. Which I appreciate.

But yeah, first impressions are...way more positive than I expected. Legitimately, I expected this game to feel really bereft of charm or investment, and I’m pleasantly surprised at how much I’m enjoying it thus far. There’s always a chance something goes south really fast, but for now, it’s pretty fun.

#fire emblem engage

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

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Professor Cavill, Sir

Summary: Professor Cavill keeps giving you failing grades on your assignments even though you are 100% certain you are a brilliant student. You decide to march down to his office and confront him.

Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 3K

Warnings: Abuse of power, MaleDom / FemSub, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, creampie. (Basically all the good stuff)

A/N: While composing this post, I noticed I passed my 1500 followers. So first and foremost, THANK YOU, thank you for following, believing in me and sending me DMs. You are just as important to me. I’ll probably write a more emotional thank you post tonight. But just had to say something now 🥺

Thanks the anon who made this prompt request! And thanks @agniavateira for being my beta and muse.

I also recommend reading @ladyreapermc astonishing professor Cavil stories!!!

Title: Professor Cavil, Sir

You know you are a good student, you’re brilliant, even smarter than the airheads who harbour the classroom. Yet, Professor Cavill seems to have some sort of beef with you. He marches around the classroom, giving you cold stares and your grades are constantly dropping with each assignment you hand over.

Fine, he is beyond handsome and all the girls are soaked for him but damn, you hate this man with passion and you’ve had it. You wait one afternoon when the halls of the academy are nearly empty so you can march into his office and tell him exactly what you think.

You play the scenario in your mind for hours. You know exactly what you are going to say and how but the moment you barge into his office, your words melt into an incoherent cluster of yelling that don’t make much sense by the look on Professor Cavill’s face.

“I am a smart woman!!! You... you... you have no right!!!”

The professor crooks his right eyebrow, peering at you from an assignment he is browsing through. He seems unimpressed by your dramatic entrance, putting the paper on his desk and then finally gesturing for you to sit at his desk.

Heaving from the anxiety that’s about to burst your heart, you shut the door and take two strides to sit in front of him, feeling the blush burn from your cheeks down to your chest. It takes less than a minute for you to conclude that you are a meek, little fly that walked straight into the web of a big, hungry spider.

Henry laces his hands together, elbows resting on the wooden desk and his eyes seeking yours with a grin, which in your rage you only interpret as arrogance.

“Yes, you’re smart. You are the most brilliant student in my class.” he compliments, which does nothing but make the rush of blood escalate and flow ecstatically to your nether regions.

“But you don’t see much.”

You give a sheepish stare, feeling your ears burn in embarrassment as he gets up from his chair and shifts to half-sit on the corner of the desk, blocking your only way out. Somehow, the only thing that goes through your head is “fuck me”.

These words nearly roll on your tongue as you open your mouth, staring at professor Cavill’s god-like face.

“I...”

“Am I wrong?” he asks you, his fingers reaching beneath your chin, the soft pads of his tips bumping it up so your gaze will entwine.

“Tell me, do you wish to leave?”

“No,” you hear your own voice tremble as you answer.

A deep crease appears at his cheek as his lips stretch into a slanted smirk. His fingers leave your chin to remove his glasses and lay them on the desk. His eyes shine at you, glistening with lust. “What do you want then?”

Your lips part, heart beating through your throat. The tendon at your neck twitches, sure that he can see it too.

“I want you to fuck me on your desk.”

Henry’s icy glare travels upon the outlines of your face, studying each freckle carefully. No words come out from the man who speaks so greatly, his cold silence challenging, tiny sparks of panic waking at the back of your head.

What have I done?! Have I misunderstood his intentions? Was this just all happening in my mind?

You swallow the dry lump in your throat, about to open your mouth to a gush of apologies when Henry’s large palm lifts to ghost above your jaw. His thumb meets the plumpness of your lips and tugs at your bottom lip to dampen the pad of his finger.

"Such a dirty mouth you’ve got there,” he comments. His velvety British accent sends tremors to the walls of your beating core. The slightest of touch makes your panties embarrassingly moist, viscid against the petals of your womanhood. Shifting in the chair uncomfortably, the black knife-pleated skirt ascends and exposes the silkiness of your legs. Much of a treat to his famished icicles.

Saturated dreams of Professor Cavill kept you sweaty in the middle of the night, as any of the women attending his course. It wasn’t just his thick dark hair that curled at the edge and the criminally-sculpted cheekbones, nor was it that broad structure hidden underneath a buttoned-down blue shirt. It was his confidence, his stark charisma. Passion shimmered in his eyes when he spoke about wars throughout history and razed enemy cities.

Damn if you didn’t want him to destroy yours.

“Spread your legs, let me see you.” he demands, his voice deepening along with the shade of his gaze. No thoughts of protest come to mind. You obey, surrendering every will to his demand, thighs pressed open to each side of the wooden office chair.

Henry’s index finger rims your mouth from east to west, toying the red pillows of your lips and sliding the tip inside to flirt with your whispering tongue.

“Now, roll your panties down your knees.”

Cold shivers run through the sinew of your muscles like an electric current, making you spasm on the chair, unhidden from Henry’s satisfaction. He scoffs at your behavior, a small grin painting his chiseled jaw. You’re behaving like a virgin, all doe eyes and trembling knees. You’re certain he finds you pathetic to the point of humor.

“Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you like a bad one.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers onto the elastic band of your panties and slowly pull them down to your knees. The cold air of the room hits the exposed groove of your body and you hiss at the sensation, throbbing with excitement and fright.

The bulge in Henry’s trousers appears to be threateningly large, the outlines of his cock winking toward your desirable image. You nearly bite his fingertip as your mind sinks into momentary fantasies of how specifically large his cock is beneath those cream-colored trousers.

It would be a lie to say you haven’t glanced at that region of his groin during his classes once or twice.

Henry reaches his free hand to lift your skirt and peek at your mound, his tongue flicking over the freckle of his bottom lips as he finds you sleek with arousal. The wooden surface is damp with your sweat and the smooth elixir of your cunt.

It makes him smile in a way that nearly makes you feel ashamed.

“Suck,” he orders and his fingers enter your mouth before you even choose to question. Shoving deep to challenge your devotion to him. Your tongue laps around skin and bone, cheeks hollowing out instinctively as you coat him with your saliva and hum at the sensation of having him in your mouth.

A low growl forms in the pit of his chest, loud enough to vibrate at your reddening ears. He is impressed by how submissive you are to his wanton, completely opposite to the way you’ve rudely barged into his office. When you woke up this morning you had every intention of showing him how little you think of him and his grades, and yet here you are, dripping on his chair like some shameless slut.

This is a dangerous ground; you’re treading on thin ice, but there is no will power strong enough to stop you.

From the moment you walked into this room, you were already his.

“Such a good girl.”

His fingers slide out of your mouth, glistening with your spit in the warm lighting of his cozy office. With shallow breathing and quivering lips, your fists grip the edge of the chair with fear while his fingers descend and disappear beneath your skirt.

A lingering gasp leaves your mouth as his fingers spread open your folds. Probing inside almost clinically, as a thing to be toyed with. His fingers push knuckle deep, exploring the warmth of your soaking pit and grinding in slightly to elicit pathetic little moans from your throat.

“You know how much I’ve longed for this?”

His thick baritone sends shivers down your neck as he leans closer to half-whisper against your ear. Small whimpers escape from your lips in response.

Henry slips even deeper, thumb ghosting over your yearning clit, mimicking phantom circles in the air in order to torture you. Begging, you attempt to push forward and grind at his fingers for more friction but you are answered with the scolding tick of his tongue.

“You’ll come when I say so.”

“Professor Hen…”

A pained hiss shudders through you, tiny creases forming at the corners of your eyes as you shut them tightly due to the pain that stings your scalp. Henry’s fist closes over your hair, tugging your head back to punish your disobedience.

Deep in the cells which survey logic in your mind you know you shouldn’t like this.However, your body tells a different tale: skin tingling, slit clenching around his fingers just from the rush of fear.

“I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy around my cock,” he murmurs in a husky voice, his fingers pumping slightly, curling within your succulent cavern to learn each of your vocal reactions. You are spasming around him as inch by inch he seeks inside you, obsessed with desire to find that one spot that will reduce you to nothing but a boneless being.

“Aww…” he coos at your teetering yips, his lips perched into a mocking pout as he sees the begging in your big, aching eyes. Holding the natural need of your body hurts, like molten fire, all pent-up inside. You can feel it coursing through each organ of your body, intensified by the hard shoves of his fingers. You’re nearly lifted from your seat by the force of his thrusts.

“You want to come, my sweet darling?”

“Please, Sir!” for a moment there you thought you were asking, but what comes out of your mouth is nothing but a humiliating whine. Aching inside, your fists numb over, your shaking legs get drenched with sweat as his hairy arm constantly strokes between your knees. Impassioned, he pumps into you back and forth, thrilled by the way you melt around his fingers as his tips tickle your most sacred pleats.

“You can come, sweetheart.”

The room goes black for a few seconds as pleasure takes the reins, railing you toward your orgasm with incredible force. A cluster of cries drains from your mouth. You’ve never had anyone deny your pleasure, not like this. The pain was harrowing yet the payoff makes you reach stars, your state of paradise was prolonged and for a moment, you float on air.

“Good girl.” Henry growls praises at you, his fingers sliding outside your convulsing cunt and slipping into his own mouth as he suckles on your honey. He lets out a hum, his tongue lapping over his fingertips while his eyes pierce into yours.

Still catching on your breath, you look at the professor, his face glowing as the sunset beams through the window, coloring his criminally beautiful face in gold and amber hues. There is a murmur dancing in your heart, still not believing that this man, who you spent lonely nights pining for, is about to put himself inside you.

Grasping your waist, Henry collects you with surprising ease from the chair, sitting your ass on his desk so harshly the mahogany surface slaps your naked ass. His hands press your legs apart as he moves to stand between them. You see the flames of lust burning in his eyes, as tough and authoritative as he is. Yet his lower lip still twitches with a wisp, desire weakening his roots.

You dare to touch him, tracing the shape of his jaw, dipping your finger in the strong dimple of his chin. Aggravated, he snaps your hand away, forcing it flat against the desk. He then grabs your nape, pulling you into a rough kiss that takes whatever control that was left to you. His tongue invades your mouth, a tinge of strong macchiato and cinnamon tickling your senses as your mouths play with one another.

You hear the metal clasp and the brush of leather as he unbuckles his belt and your eyes immediately fall to his groin, eager to finally see him.

Fuck.

Struck, you break away from his punishing lips, gaping at the vastness of his meaty cock. You clench your thighs around his legs, heart flinching just from the sight of it, intimidated and even frightened by the thought of him spreading your insides. A dry chuckle leaves his throat and his hand reaches to grasp himself, tugging his own pink cock and then slapping it against your cunt. He relishes the hisses and wet sounds that are produced from your pussy.

“Afraid you can’t take it?”

“You’re huge.”

You chew on your lips and moan as he slides the base of his cock between your folds smoothly, patronizingly, coating himself with your thick juices back and forth with an incubus smirk. “You know how amazing is your body, darling?” he asks and slides just the tip of his erection inside before pulling out and stroking himself against the length of your swollen lips once again. Feeble and pitiful you mewl with desperation, slouching your shoulders back, frustrated.

You want to beg but words won’t even meet your tongue.

“How much your cunt can stretch…” his words fall short as he groans with awe once his thick cock enters the narrow corridors of your slit. Inch by inch he invades, spreading you open in an agonizing pace.

Inarticulate sounds birth in your throat as his cock sheaths into your cervix. You are raw and taut, flesh throbbing furiously around his girth that fills you just right. He is thick and pulsating, enclosed by quivering velvet walls.

“Shhh…” he presses a finger to his lips and then to yours as broken moans run through your mouth.

Nodding, you purse your lips, swallowing a whimper that’s as a result of your sex throbbing together with eagerness. Henry kisses your forehead as a praise and pulls back slowly, leaving nothing but the head of his shaft, creating a sad empty void before plunging back in, achingly slow to the rhythm of your gasps.

You are fucked, in every sense of the word. The large man has a majestic hold over you; your organs don’t belong to you anymore, even your breath feels borrowed as Henry begins to pound you over his desk with guttural grunts. His hands latch beneath your knees, ramming into you like an ardent machine, yet not with a lack of style. Every pound edges you across the border of heaven, keeping quiet is nearly impossible and every cry that escapes you is punished by a hard thrust.

Your palms sweat on his desk as you flatten them behind you, your panties dangling from your ankles. Henry controls everything to the very last drop of your lust, fucking into you, slapping your wet pussy like an angry train with passionate speed.

Henry strokes all the right spots inside you, his thickness causing a trillion little spasms to sway from your apex.

Incoherent musings run through your mind; you want him to take everything, fuck you like a slut and empty his cock into your willing womb. He reaches the deepest part inside you and the most insidious thoughts take over your soul as you come undone. Your body jitters with the explosion of stars, your cunt tremoring tightly around him, demanding his rich offerings.

“I’m on the pill!”

You call breathlessly, still teetering on the strands of rapture as he twitches inside you in eager response. Henry stares at you surprised, his mouth agape as if in disbelief. He drops his gaze to where you are connected, staring at his cock sinking into your cage of delights. With his fists cuffed around your needs he slams into you ferociously, his balls thudding against your cunt with zeal, swelling and growling with bliss until he empties all of him inside you.

“Fuck!” Henry grunts, attempting to catch his breath. His sweaty forehead rests onto yours, his lips hovering, trembling at your mouth. You let your shaky hands cradle his square face, fingertips collecting droplets of sweat and smearing it down the lines of his cheeks. The powerful man who just dominated you is nothing but a gentle giant, swaying into your soothing touch.

There is a mess on his desk as he shifts away. His thick semen spills from your pummeled hole and you see the twisted pride in his eyes. You reach to slip your panties on, your chest beating angrily as you struggle to breathe.

“I hope you are not just doing this for your grades,” he warns as he zips his trousers back and leans against his bookcase, staring at you while you make a futile effort to fix your messy appearance. Your underwear is soaked with him and you dread the thought of walking home stained, smelling like sex.

“I am not a whore.” you answer, a tinge of anger at your throat. You wonder for a second if you are the only one and your heart sinks with fear, your head feeling slightly dizzy. “And you just admitted to fixing my grades so you could get me in this position, that’s the kettle cal..”

“I never said you are.” he stops you, running a hand over his hair and fixing an errant curl at the top of his head. His fierce stare searches for something in your soul.

“I’d like to do this again.”

You blink at him wordlessly, trying to figure out what sort of fantasy you just stumbled into. Obviously, there is not a bone in your body that wants you to refuse as you glance at the man of your dreams, offering you a suggestive grin.

Then it finally strikes you. You just entered a dirty bad romance.

___________________________________________________

DM me if you wish to be added/removed

#Henry Cavill #AU!Henry Cavill #Professor Cavill #Professor Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #henry cavill x reader

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azucanela · 4 years ago

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SKIN DEEP DECEPTION

PAIRING: TSUKISHIMA KEI X READER [SOULMATE AU]

SUMMARY: In a world where the number of lies your soulmate tells each day is written in your wrist, Y/N has found that her soulmate has two moods. No lies, or dozens at a time.

WARNINGS: CURSE WORDS (WH*RE). ANGST. MILD VIOLENCE.

WORD COUNT: 4K.

A/N: happy anniversary? marriage? engagement? @bbykutos <3 this is my first time writing an au so pls lmk how i did and uhhh idk i feel like this is bad

HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

IN A WORLD FILLED WITH LIES only one person knew when you were really telling the truth. That person being your soulmate. Though it’s not always a lover, that tended to be the most common occurrence when it came to soulmates. The whole point of soulmates had been to have someone perfect for you, though this wasn’t always the case of course.

Growing up, Y/N had always viewed soulmates as a false ideal, a distant fantasy, though the number on her wrist was confirmation enough that soulmates existed— that didn’t mean they were truly meant to be.

She’d learnt that the hard way.

At times, kids would find their soulmates in their first year of school; which normally went either really well or really poorly. Others in high school, college, some mundane moment at a coffee shop or a more dramatic one at one of the biggest moments of their lives. Sometimes it was romantic, other times it was chaotic, or just plain dull. Most of the times finding your soulmate meant catching them in the midst of a lie... several times. Sometimes people found love, an enemy, or... they just found their soulmate.

Y/N wasn’t the only person who’d become rather apathetic towards the whole idea, though there was no denying the small part of her— in the back of her mind, the part she’d tried so hard to bury— that hoped, that wished, that dreamed of a soulmate who cared for her.

And yet, even her own parents were an example of this false ideal.

Not that it mattered, seeing as she was yet to meet her soulmate. There was no reason to dwell on it, that had become abundantly clear to Y/N, and yet here she was, allowing her mind to wander as she stared— maybe even glared— at her wrist in class.

“I need to use the restroom.”

The word’s pull her out of her daze, eyes rising back up to the board where her teacher stands— smile on her face as she replies, “of course! Go on ahead.” Y/N’s eyes trail over to the student in question, the blonde boy seated beside her, Tsukishima Kei. She was familiar with him seeing as they’d gone to the same middle school. He also happened to be the class’ star pupil due to his stellar intellect.

With a frown, Y/N exhales deeply and looks back down only to come face to face with the number on her wrist having increased by one.

1 lie so far today, huh.

Most days Y/N had found that the lies didn’t start piling up until the afternoon, other times there were slim to none, and assuming they were in high school as well— what were they lying about. It truly left her baffled at what in the world they could be saying. Aside from this curiosity, the thought of her soulmate returned to the back of her mind as a hand tapped her shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts once more.

A green haired boy stands beside her— she recognizes him, Yamaguchi Tadashi. They’d been friends in middle school and remained so when they’d entered high school, though they weren’t as close as they used to be, Yamaguchi had tried and failed to keep it that way.

The bitter memories resurface, though Y/N simply pushes them to the back of her mind alongside all the over thoughts she doesn’t want to address as she turns to Yamaguchi with a smile, “hey Yamaguchi, what’s up?”

He offers her a nervous smile, eyes flickering across the room before returning to her before he replies, “I was wondering if you wanted to be in my group?”

Tilting her head at him, a small laugh escapes Y/N as she asks, “group?”

For a moment Yamaguchi’s brows furrow, though his eyes drift towards her single rolled up sleeve, the number one displayed on it, “oh! We have a group project for the next few weeks.” Comes his response.

“Project...” Y/N mumbles out, eyes scanning the room as she watches people enter clusters of three, talking and writing things down in their journal— even exchanging numbers. “Right.”

She had a feeling that Tsukishima’s sunny disposition hadn’t done them any favors when it came to getting other members to join their group projects. Coupled with Yamaguchi’s need to end all conflict between his friends.

That must be how they ended up here.

Opening her mouth to speak, Y/N quickly shut it as she searched for the right words, bringing an arm to the back of her neck as she scratched it awkwardly. “I just don’t know if that would be the best idea—”

“If what would be the best idea?” Behind Yamaguchi comes Tsukishima, hands shoved into his pockets as he looks between them.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Y/N looks away, brows furrowing as memories begin to surface. Seeing as the last time they’d interacted, Tsukishima had elected to use some... crude words. Well, Y/N had expected awkwardness when they inevitably spoke to each other once more, and the fact that he seemed to unfazed left her wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.

Preferably in a violent way.

Yamaguchi seems to answer for her as he replies, “well I was thinking since we need groups of three, Y/N would just join us.” Yamaguchi looks between the pair before saying, “like old times.”

Y/N wants to gag.

Moving to stand, she offers Yamaguchi a tight lipped smile, “I’ll probably join a different group but—”

“There are no other groups.” Tsukishima interrupts, though there’s no emotion in his words, as though he’s simply stating a fact. Because clearly, he doesn’t care.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods slowly, looking between the both of them before saying, “well you both have my number.” The bell rings, and Y/N can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she continues, “text me about the project whenever.” Before immediately grabbing her bag from beside her desk and swinging it over her shoulder.

Tsukishima is watching as she leaves, a sigh escaping him as he adjusts his glasses before turning to Yamaguchi, “you’ll need to make a group chat.”

“Why?” He asks, brows furrowing as he pulls at his phone to do so regardless, fingers typing away at the screen.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Tsukishima shrugs, “she has me blocked.”

Yamaguchi pauses his typing, sighing. Though he doesn’t look up at Tsukishima as he replies, “Of course she does— well I would too.” Yamaguchi exhales deeply, “you should apologize to her.”

It had always been a touchy subject in their friendship, the way that Tsukishima had elected to end— more accurately, ruin — his friendship with Y/N. Though Yamaguchi wasn’t there to hear what he’d said himself, he’d heard it had been pretty bad from others. After all, Tsukishima had received his first, second and third punch to the face that day.

It was deserved.

“Yeah.” Comes his reply, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

In an attempt to combat the uncomfortable silence between them, Yamaguchi asks, “so where’d you go?”

A smirk breaks out on Tsukishima’s face, “not the bathroom that’s for sure.”

THE NEXT TIME TSUKISHIMA KEI TEXTS Y/N, the message actually goes through. For some reason he can’t bring himself to delete the ones that came before, the apologies from a year prior followed by his messages of realization that she had blocked him.

Maybe it was the fact that his pride had taken a blow or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t want to know if he was forgivable, Tsukishima had never made any attempts to apologize fact to face.

Actually, that’s a lie, he had. But he had chickened out last minute, the panic flooding his veins as he was faced with a situation almost identical to the one that had gotten him into the mess. Seeing her alongside the very person who had punched him in the face that day— well, the first person who had that is— a broad smile on her face.

And who was he to ruin that. Did he even want to know what she’d say? Would she call him ridiculous, a fool for even thinking an apology could mend anything between him?

Would hearing her voice one more time, even if it was just riddled with insults, be enough for closure? He’d done this to himself Tsukishima was well aware but that didn’t make him any less upset at the fact that he’d lost his best friend.

He shakes his head, trying to get rid of those memories as he stares at the message, a simple:

hey, it’s tsukishima.

He was fairly sure that not only had he been blocked he had also had his number deleted, so starting with an introduction seemed right.

we’re meeting at my house tmrw after school. yamaguchi and i have volleyball practice, you can wait for us at the gym or just head over to my house i dont care.

There are so many implications to the message and they all leave Y/N’s head spinning, or maybe she was reading into it. She wasn’t sure at this point, but it was clear that Tsukishima was well aware that she still had the key to his front door.

Y/N elected to show up to volleyball practice rather than face his mother alone.

Stepping into the gym, the sound of shows scrapping against the floor, and volleyballs hitting the ground at an almost rapid pace as people moved around the courts just as quickly.

Y/N scrunches up her nose as she’s hit with the smell of sweat, something to be expected in a gym of course, lips pressing together into a straight line as she steps further into the gym and looks to her left. There stands another girl, albeit slightly intimidating but she looked far more approachable than the other people around the gym

“Excuse me?”

She turns, brows furrowing slightly at the sight of Y/N before offering her a smile and asking, “hey. How can I help you?”

Smiling back— albeit awkwardly— Y/N replies, “I’m waiting for someone,” Y/N quickly realizes that isn’t much information as she adds, “someone in this club. Actually, two people— that’s beside the point. Is there anywhere I can just sit, until the end?”

Once more her brows furrow, “our practices tend to go on pretty long, especially since some of the boys like extra work and we have a few practice games coming up.” Shaking her head slightly, the girl gestures to the bench beside her, “you can sit here with me, I’m Kiyoko by the way.”

“So who are you waiting for?”

“Oh, uh... Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

Y/N finds herself coming by the gym more often after that day, although it isn’t because she has to walk back to Tsukishima’s house after with him and Yamaguchi, it’s because she finds herself enjoying Kiyoko’s presence. She’s a quiet girl, but she’s rather witty behind the scenes, and certainly and entertaining and fun person. And so were the other boys in the club.

They’d quickly become intrigued by the presence of another girl and—

“Another female manager? Nice!”

“Another manager? Why?”

“Kiyoko are you leaving us!?”

Okay so maybe Y/N had inadvertently joined the Boy’s Volleyball Club, but she really had nothing better to do with her time, much less with all the time she had between school and when the practice ended, allowing Tsukishima to go home with Yamaguchi and Y/N. But it’s not like it wouldn’t be over soon, right? The groups would only last two weeks and then Y/N would be free of her old— or more accurately, ex-friend.

Wrong, the groups became permanent. For the rest of year the students have to use them, for every single group project. Leaving Y/N to dread the class each time she entered due to the burning anticipation of a possible group project. Though Yamaguchi had made several attempts to approach Y/N since their last project ended just a few weeks prior, going as far as ditching Tsukishima entirely to sit with her at lunch some days.

Y/N entertained him, it’s not like she wanted to be rude or anything— not to Yamaguchi that is, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t been the one to randomly explode and call her a variety of... colorful words upon finding her with a friend last year.

Neither Y/N nor Yamaguchi bring it up of course, how Tsukishima had driven her away with his crude words that she never expected would ever be directed towards her.

But...

“We’ll be having another group project for the next two weeks!”

The conversation was inevitable.

Y/N nearly rams her head into her desk as she sighs, eyes drifting upwards towards the ceiling as though that would solve any of her current problems, before looking back to Tsukishima with a rather sarcastic smile that he returns with one of his own. Yamaguchi on the other hand, is waving rather enthusiastically from his seat in the classroom, beaming.

It’s not like it was a bad group. They got things done, and when grades were returned, they were good. It’s just that Tsukishima was... Tsukishima. And as annoying and rude as he was, Y/N couldn’t help but feel more annoyed with herself because she still couldn’t find it in herself to hate him.

Backpack slung over her shoulder, Y/N exhales deeply as she looks back at Yamaguchi who remains at his porch, “make sure she gets home safe, Tsukki!”

“That’s really not necessary, Yams.” She assures, giving him a pointed look when Tsukishima turns around with a disinterested shrug. But of course. the boy waves her off, simply shoving her forwards with Tsukki, offering her a thumbs up and a smile.

Y/N simply turns around and follows Tsukishima with a scowl, quickly moving ahead of him as she tugs her backpack strap tighter onto her shoulder.

Tsukishima is rolling his eyes as she moves ahead of him, “how am I supposed to stop you from getting kidnapped when you’re a mile ahead of me?” He calls out to her, maintaining his pace. Y/N doesn’t reply, continuing on ahead, “Y/N.” He repeats, “Y/N.” Once more, she ignores him, until she hears his steps pick up behind her, a hand wrapping around her wrist and stopping her movements.

“Yes Kei?” She exclaims in annoyance, turning back to him. Only for her mouth to gape open as she grimaces, “Tsukishima. I mean.”

He exhales deeply, looking away momentarily before saying, “I’m sorry.”

So, Y/N laughs. “Wow. Tsukishima Kei swallowing his pride to apologize? Impressive.” Tsukishima opens his mouth to reply, only for Y/N to speak first and say, “I hate you.” Before tearing her arm out of his grasp and stepping ahead once more.

Y/N isn’t looking at him as he replies, “no you don’t.”

And Tsukishima would’ve believed had he not looked to his wrist, the number rising with each insult Y/N spewed. Though there was no denying that he deserved it, but that didn’t stop the grimace that came on his face before he asked, “you done?”

WHEN TSUKISHIMA FOUND OUT Y/N WAS HIS SOULMATE, it did not end well. He wasn’t really sure if he had a plan that day, but if he did it went out the window once he saw her with one of her friends from another school. Though Tsukishima had never met the boy in question, it didn’t take long for him to realize that Y/N liked him, whether that was platonic or not it didn’t matter. Because watching her laugh along with him in the convenience store only served as a reminder that there were people better than him.

Tsukishima had never considered himself insecure per se, much less an over thinker or anything of the sort. But the simple fact of the matter was, Y/N didn’t want him, she was stuck with him as his soulmate.

And though she was blissfully unaware of this fact, why did that need to change?

Perhaps she could be happier with that boy, with anyone other than him. Tsukishima had known Y/N for years and though he would never admit it, he respected her, he cared for her, long before he’d discovered they were soulmates. And prior to his discovery he’d always found the system idiotic, so why did his mindset have to change?

It was a bitter ideology, and a jealous and foolish reaction that put him in the place he’s in today. Though Tsukishima was fairly sure it only proved his point, that she deserved better, that didn’t make him any more remorseful of their friendship.

He’d nearly told her several times, like the blunt and straightforward person he is, Tsukishima had almost stopped her in the halls of school and simply said— “surprise! We’re soulmates. Sorry about calling you a whore and all, I was just jealous and bitter because I realized there are people out there better for you and somehow you got stuck with me!”

Yeah, that would’ve blown over real well. Tsukishima was fairly sure he would’ve received an addition hit to the face from her and Yamaguchi, again.

Yamaguchi was not happy when he found out about the convenience store incident. At all.

Tsukishima couldn’t recount many times when he was scared of Yamaguchi Tadashi, until his fist was flying towards his face. Of course, he laughed it off, wiping the blood from his nose, but that didn’t make it a fun experience by any means.

Now, Tsukishima was just trying to amend things, slightly. It’s not like Y/N owed him any of her time, and it’s not like she needed to know that they were soulmates.

It would be better off that way for the both of them, or at least, that’s what Tsukishima told himself— much to Yamaguchi’s dismay. The boy had been urging Tsukishima to just tell her the truth, for a while now, to no avail. And when Tsukishima returned to class one day having discovered he would be in a group with her and Yamaguchi, well he couldn’t help but thing Yamaguchi was scheming.

But looking up to Yamaguchi and Y/N, who are seated at the table of some café Y/N had insisted on coming to, Tsukishima can’t help but think it was worth it.

No, she didn’t need to know.

And so, against her better judgement, Y/N had allowed things to return to normal. The same weekly hangouts they once had becoming daily because of volleyball practice each day, forcing Yamaguchi, Tsukishima and Y/N together for even longer periods of time. Walks homes becoming progressively longer as they all speak amongst themselves— or more accurately, Y/N and Yamaguchi speak. Then again, Tsukishima had always been more of the quiet kind unless he had something witty to add on.

This revival of friendship meant the return of the late night calls as well, of course. Albeit, most of them filled with a comfortable silence that Y/N finds herself relishing in a she lays in bed, eyes glued to the time shining in the corner of her phone screen.

11:52PM.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N rolls over on her bed, tugging at her sleeve to pull it down and reveal the counter on her wrist. There have been a few lies today, though there hadn’t been any in the past few hours. In recent months the number had been fluctuating more which Y/N found... odd.

Tsukishima seems to notice her shift in mood, though he doesn’t look up from his work as he asks, “what is it?” When Y/N doesn’t respond, he simply repeats himself, asking, “what’s wrong?

Y/N’s brows furrow as she huffs, bringing her arm back down and pushing herself up on her bed using her elbows before replying, “what do you mean?”

“The dramatic sigh.” Comes his reply, eyes still glued to the page in front of him as the sound of his pen moving against the paper fills his room.

Y/N looks to him on the screen incredulously as she scoffs, “it was not a dramatic sigh.”

A pause on his part as he looks down before replying, “I don’t even think you believe that Y/N.” He responds, rolling his eyes before adjusting his glasses at the bridge of his nose.

Sometimes Y/N wondered how he’d always been able to do that, read her like a book. Was she truly that predictable? Grimacing, Y/N brushes away the thought, “nothing is wrong?” Her response sounds more like a question, leaving her cringing at her inability to lie.

Tsukishima raises a brow as he dryly responds, “that was convincing.”

Y/N just sighs again, eyes drifting to her wrist once more— the counter now reset to zero as the day starts anew— as she pauses, wondering if the conversation would be worth it.

“Do you ever think of you soulmate, Tsukishima?”

His pen stops, and if Y/N was looking at the screen rather than her wrist, she would’ve seen the way he straightened in his seat as he replied, “no. I don’t.” He clears his throat, “no point in dwelling on someone I haven’t even met yet.”

Maybe Y/N would’ve replied had the counter not ticked up to 2 as he spoke.

But it was a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence.

“So... you haven’t met your soulmate yet?

Another moment of silence before he replies, “no.” With a sigh.

Y/N brings a hand to clasp over her mouth, “you’re kidding me.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “you’re fucking kidding me.” Y/N finds herself inhaling deeply as she attempts to calm herself. “How long have you known?”

Y/N WAS AVOIDING HIM, not that he didn’t deserve it, again. But that didn’t make it any better. Tsukishima found himself frowning as he stared at his eyes pierced into the back of her head, and for the first time he found himself hoping for a group project.

What a change in events.

Tsukishima was honestly more worried about what Yamaguchi would say once he found out that he and Y/N were fighting again but... that was something to worry about for another time.

“We’ll be having a group project once more today! If you haven’t realized already, this class is oriented around the idea of building you collaborative and social skills.”

Okay, maybe not another time.

Tsukishima can practically hear Y/N’s head fall against her desk, his eyes drifting back to her as the teacher drones on about the requirements of this assignment and how they’ll pick up the rubric once class ends and they can further review it tomorrow.

Probably because the bell rings almost immediately after.

Y/N has already shot up from her seat, tugging her back over her shoulder as she beelines for the exit of the class. And for once, Tsukishima finds himself making an effort to keep up with her as he calls out her name, “Y/N, stop.”

This seems to garner Yamaguchi’s attention, who jogs to keep up with the pair as they all exit the classroom, “guys? What’s going on?”

“Everything is fine, Yamaguchi!” Comes Y/N’s response from ahead of them, waving him off.

Yamaguchi’s brows furrow as he grabs Tsukishima’s wrist only to see that the counter has risen, causing him to look up at Tsukishima when he finally yanks his wrist away. “What did you do?”

Tsukishima looks to him incredulously, “what makes you think I did something?”

Yamaguchi looks to him blankly as he replies, “well Y/N isn’t chasing you through the halls, is she?” He rolls his eyes, jogging to get ahead of the both of them and block their path as he looked to them with furrowed brows, “what is going on guys?”

“Not now, Tadashi, please—”

“Tadashi?”

The group pauses in the empty hallway, most of the other students having left now that the day had ended, and the sound of Tsukishima’s voice is unlike anything Y/N has heard before as she sighs.

“I wish you had told me, Tsukishima.” Is all she mumbles out, before dragging a hand through her hair and pushing past the both of them, turning the corner of the hall and leaving them alone there.

A/N: gasp :0 yamaguchi?

#tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima x you #kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #kei x you #kei tsukishima x you #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x you #haiky #tsukishima kei x y/n #tsukishima x y/n #kei x y/n #kei tsukishima x y/n

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btsqualityy · 4 years ago

Text

Assuage: Chapter 7

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: None to note.

By the end of the week, Yoongi had gotten upwards of 15 more offers from multiple Omegas and even a few Alphas. On one hand, he was annoyed because after turning down a few, he would’ve thought that word would spread around the pack that he wasn’t looking for anything serious right at that moment. However, on the other hand, he kind of...liked the attention.

It’s nice to feel wanted and desired, and after receiving the explanation from you and the others as to why everyone was all over him now, he couldn’t help but to feel proud of himself and how he had proven himself to be a capable Alpha. If only his old pack could see him now.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not looking to date anyone right now,” Yoongi murmured apologetically to an Omega named Yeji, who had stopped into the hardware shop to offer Yoongi a pair of mittens that she had knitted for him.

“Well, you could still take them anyway?” Yeji suggested hopefully. “Winter’s approaching and I’d hate for you to be too cold.”

“I appreciate it, but I couldn’t,” Yoongi shook his head.

“Alright. Have a good day Yoongi,” Yeji whispered, turning around and swiftly walking out of the shop, not even giving Yoongi a chance to say goodbye before she was gone.

“Ok, what was wrong with that one?” Kibum demanded to know, and Yoongi looked over at him.

“Nothing. It’s just like I said, I’m not interested in dating or mating,” he shrugged.

“You’re a fool, boy,” Kibum chuckled. “If only I were 40 years younger, I would’ve snatched her up.”

“She was pretty and everything, and her scent wasn’t terrible but I just wasn’t interested,” Yoongi shot back.

“Alright, alright, no need to get defensive,” Kibum sighed. “All I’m saying is that Yeji was what, the 5th person to come in here just today to try and offer you a gift? You keep turning them all down and you’re not getting any younger Min.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you would even know what younger looked like, considering that you haven’t been it for so long,” Yoongi snickered, yelping when Kibum smacked the back of his head in retaliation.

“How about you stop running your damn mouth so much and go cut us some wood down from those trees on the edge of the territory?” Kibum suggested.

“Yes Sir,” Yoongi laughed, quickly skirting around the counter before Kibum could hit him again for laughing. Stepping out of the shop, Yoongi made sure to grab the axe that sat on the small porch before he set off across the territory, past the Head Hall and the school house. A few people spoke to him as he passed and he replied, but no one else came up to him with anymore gifts.

Once he made it into the woods, he continued to walk until he made it to the small cluster of trees that Kibum had showed to him. These trees were specifically for the purpose of wood for the pack and were the only ones that Yoongi could cut down. Just as he lifted the axe and was about to swing downwards, the smell of white peaches stopped him.

He followed the smell, his head instantly turning to the right where he saw you. You were sat on a rock, looking down at the small stream that ran along one end of the pack territory.

“Hey,” Yoongi called out as he began to walk over to you and you looked up in surprise, your body relaxing when you saw that it was only Yoongi.

“Hey,” you replied, your eyebrows raising right after when you noticed the axe in his hand. “Damn, I know we haven’t really gotten along but you don’t have to murder me.”

“I was just about to cut some wood for Kibum,” Yoongi chuckled. “What are you doing way out here?”

“I had to work all morning and I finally got a break so I decided to come out here,” you answered him.

“Is this your little hidden spot?” Yoongi questioned as he leaned against the rock that you were sitting on.

“Yeah, or at least it used to be until you found me,” you rolled your eyes, making Yoongi scoff as he shook his head. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually though, since you’re a part of the pack now. Have you been settling in ok?”

“Yeah, actually I have,” Yoongi replied.

“Good,” you nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry for being a bitch, by the way.”

“Wait, are you apologizing to me?” Yoongi smirked as he turned to fully face you, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m trying to but don’t make me regret it already,” you snapped, even though there was a small smile on your face. “But being in an all new pack is probably really hard and I didn’t really give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“You know what, don’t even worry about it,” Yoongi shrugged. “If someone came into my old pack talking shit about the way we did things, I would’ve reacted the same way.”

“What was your old pack like?” You wondered. “You don’t talk about them much.”

“That’s very much on purpose,” Yoongi chuckled bitterly. “But long story short, they sucked. It was a pack full of mostly Prime Alphas and Alphas, and there were constant fights and just general dumb assery.”

“No Omegas or Betas?”

“A few, but their only purpose was cooking, cleaning, getting fucked and having pups,” Yoongi told you, not missing the way your scent soured a little bit.

“What else is to be expected in a pack full of mostly Alphas?” You huffed in annoyance. “It makes sense why you say the things you do though, about Omegas and their place within a pack. That’s what you’re used to.”

“Yep but if I’m honest, I think I like the way you guys do things better,” Yoongi admitted and you smiled.

“Good, because we are better than them,” you nodded knowingly, making Yoongi laugh. “Hey, are you coming to the full moon party tonight?”

“Full moon party?” Yoongi repeated. “What’s that?”

“Tae didn’t explain it to you?” You wondered, and Yoongi shook his head. “Well, as I’m sure you already know, full moons used to be when a person’s wolf was at it’s strongest and the full moon party was a way of celebrating that. Now that we’ve evolved to the point where we can’t shift anymore, the party is literally just an excuse for us to have some fun before snowfall comes.”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Yoongi wavered. “I’m not really the party type.”

“Come on. If you’re gonna be a part of the pack, you have to participate in the pack traditions and the full moon party is a pack tradition,” you smiled. “Plus, there’ll be good food, games, music and alcohol.”

“Alcohol?” Yoongi echoed, his interest suddenly peaked.

“Yep, the really good shit that the elders make that’ll have you on your ass,” you smirked. Yoongi pouted lightly, realizing that he didn’t really have anything to lose by going to the party especially since he was still so new to the pack.

“Alright, fine,” Yoongi relented. “I’ll be there.”

“Great,” you grinned.

..........................................

“Do you want to knot my sister hyung?” Taehyung wondered curiously.

“Taehyung!” Both Yoongi and Jungkook exclaimed, staring at him in amazement at how he could ask such an obscene question. The two of them had stopped by Yoongi’s cabin to pick him up on their way to the full moon party, and Taehyung had bombarded Yoongi with that question as soon as Yoongi had let them inside.

“What, it’s a valid question,” Taehyung shrugged.

“Please excuse my rude ass boyfriend,” Jungkook said to Yoongi, wincing when Taehyung pinched his arm in retaliation.

“Don’t apologize for me, I said what I said,” Taehyung snapped. “And he still hasn’t answered me.”

“No, I don’t want to knot Y/N,” Yoongi chuckled.

“You’re lying,” Taehyung instantly shot back. “Because last time I checked, the two of you argued anytime that you were in the same vicinity together and now, all of a sudden, Y/N-ah is inviting you to the full moon party?! And before I had the chance to?!”

“It’s literally not that serious,” Yoongi laughed.

“Yeah, stop being so overdramatic Tae,” Jungkook added, letting out a scream when Taehyung full on punched him in the upper arm.

“Keep talking baby Alpha, and you’ll be spending your next rut alone,” Taehyung threatened him.

“Ok, can we go please?” Yoongi interrupted them.

“Not until you tell me what happened between you and my sister,” Taehyung demanded.

“Nothing happened,” Yoongi shrugged. “She apologized for being so quick to judge me, I admitted to being a dickhead about judging the way you guys did things, and that’s all.”

“Mmhmm. Ok, well I’ll let it go for now,” Taehyung said. “But I’m watching you.”

“Nice to know,” Yoongi chuckled. “Do I look ok though?” Yoongi hadn’t exactly been sure what to wear for the party, given that he wasn’t sure if it was formal or not, but he had settled on a thick, plaid button up shirt and blue jeans, with black boots.

“Yeah, you look fine hyung,” Jungkook nodded. “Let’s go.” After locking up his cabin, the three of them walked down to the center of the pack’s territory.

There were multiple large tables surrounding a large bonfire, since it was late October and getting pretty chilly out. There were also large speakers set up around the space, with upbeat music flowing through them. It seemed as though every member of the pack was present, even the pups and elders.

“Hey look, there’s the others,” Jungkook said as he pointed to a table where you, Namjoon, Hyorin, Jin, Hobi, and Jimin were sitting. Yoongi then followed behind Jungkook and Taehyung as they led the way over to the table, everyone exchanging greetings.

“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised to see you Yoongi,” Namjoon admitted with a smile. “I told Tae that you didn’t seem like a party type.”

“I’m not, but what do I have to lose by showing my face?” Yoongi replied and Namjoon nodded in understanding.

“Babe,” Hyorin called and Namjoon looked down at her. “I hate to interrupt but me and this pup are hungry.”

“I’ll go make you a plate then,” he chuckled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before turning to look at the other Alphas. “You guys coming?”

“You hungry?” Jungkook asked Taehyung, who nodded. “I’m coming hyung.”

“I’ll get you guys food,” Hobi said to Jin and Jimin, who just smiled thankfully. Yoongi then turned to look at you, feeling the need to make sure that you ate as well.

“I could get you food,” he offered quietly and you looked over at him in surprise. “I mean, if you’re hungry.”

“If you’re already going, then sure,” you agreed. Yoongi then nodded, getting up from the table and following behind Namjoon, Hobi and Jungkook as they walked over to the buffet table.

“Is this love I’m smelling?” Hyorin teased you as soon as the Alphas were out of ear-shot, and you just rolled your eyes in response.

“Of course not. He’s just getting me food.”

“And you like the fact that he’s getting you food,” Jin spoke up. “Your scent’s telling on you.”

“You like the lone wolf,” Jimin giggled excitedly.

“I do not!” You exclaimed. “Besides, even if I were interested, he has every other Omega in the pack going crazy over him.”

“Hey!” Jimin and Jin both objected.

“Every Omega in the pack except Jimin and Jin,” you corrected yourself. “He’s probably really enjoying that attention too, with him being Prime and all.”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung hummed listlessly. “I overheard Joon hyung talking to Kibum and Kibum told him that Yoongi has turned down every Omega and Alpha that has come into the hardware shop trying to offer him a gift.”

“Turning down a gift doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s turning them down, and you guys know that,” you shrugged. “He could still fuck them.��

“He doesn’t seem like the fuck around type though,” Hyorin observed. “He honestly seems really sweet.”

“He’s Prime though Hyo,” you smiled gently. “They’re all fuck around types.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Jin snickered, making you cut your eyes at him. Just then, all of the Alphas came back, multiple plates in their hands. Yoongi set yours down in front of you before taking his seat across the table from you.

“Thank you,” you told him and he just shrugged his shoulders before beginning to eat. You, as well as everyone else, did the same and began talking to each other as usual. Yoongi didn’t participate much in the conversation, like normal, but he still enjoyed being around everyone and laughing silently at the lame jokes Jin tried to tell them.

“Oh my gosh, I love this song!” Jimin exclaimed as he abruptly stood up from the table, reaching down and grabbing Taehyung and Hobi’s hands as a new song began to play from the speakers. “Let’s go dance!”

“You need to finish eating,” Hobi pointed out and Jimin just rolled his eyes playfully.

“I’ll finish later,” he promised. “Now come on!” Hobi stood up and allowed himself to be lead away from the table, while Taehyung stood up and looked down at Jungkook.

“Please?” Taehyung pleaded, pouting just enough to look genuinely sad. Jungkook didn’t even say anything, choosing just to stand up and allow himself to be led away. You watched silently as Jin, Namjoon and Hyorin all got up as well, leaving you and Yoongi alone together.

Yoongi continued eating his food silently, watching with a soft smile as everyone began to dance together.

“Hey,” you called out, making Yoongi look up at you. “You want some tea?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “But I didn’t see any at the buffet.”

“No, not that kind of tea Yoongi,” you laughed while shaking your head. “Tea is like gossip.”

“Gossip about who?” He asked.

“Look at the dance floor again, specifically at Jimin,” you told him and he did so, noting how closely Jimin and Hobi were dancing together. Jimin reached up and wrapped his arms around Hobi’s neck and Hobi buried his face into the Omega’s neck where his scent gland was, which made Yoongi’s eyebrows raise.

“When did that happen?” Yoongi wondered as he looked back towards you.

“Technically, it still hasn’t yet,” you said and Yoongi made a noise of confusion. “Basically, they're trying to be sneaky about it.”

“Why?”

“Because Hobi is hesitant to mate with anyone because of his position as Head Fighter,” you explained. “Especially with all the tension lately between packs, you never know what might happen.”

“But they can’t seriously think that no one sees that,” Yoongi chuckled as he gestured to the two of them.

“Truthfully, no one else does see it besides us,” you replied. “Jimin is a very wanted Omega and it’s almost expected for him to flirt so no one thinks any differently of it.”

“How do you know that they’re even interested in each other then?”

“Because for the last three months, Jimin has been wearing a necklace that looks eerily similar to the same one that Hobi swears he lost,” you smiled.

“I mean, it makes sense,” Yoongi noted. “Their personalities seem similar.”

“They are. I just wish they’d get out of their own way,” you huffed, making Yoongi chuckle at how invested you were. Just then, the song changed again and your eyes brightened as you cheered.

“I’m guessing this is your favorite song?” Yoongi said and you nodded your head as you stood up from the table.

“Come dance with us?” You offered, frowning a little when Yoongi automatically shook his head.

“I don’t really dance,” he muttered.

“Well, you’re gonna have to start,” you smiled, holding out your hand to him. Sighing heavily, he reached out and grabbed onto your hand, allowing you to pull him up and over to where everyone else was dancing.

The song playing was another upbeat one, but it was more R&B than anything else. Turning around to face him, you grabbed Yoongi’s other hand and began to dance slowly. Yoongi followed your lead, dancing slowly as he got into the rhythm. You smiled at how he was slowly letting go, and Yoongi found himself smiling just because you were.

The two of you danced through three more songs, becoming effectively out of breath by the end of the last one. By the time that you and Yoongi managed to pull yourselves away from your group of friends, both of your chests were heaving as you attempted to regulate your breathing.

“And you said that you don’t dance,” you giggled.

“I don’t,” Yoongi repeated.

“Didn’t seem like it out there,” you pointed out and Yoongi chuckled.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asked you and you nodded your head thankfully. Turning away and walking over to one of the buffet tables, Yoongi made quick work of grabbing two cups and filling them up with ice cold lemonade. However, when he turned around, his eyes widened when he saw you talking to another man.

He recognized him as Minho, one of the Alphas that he had met while hunting with Hobi and Jungkook. Yoongi looked closer and saw that Minho was extending something out to you, and it didn’t take long for Yoongi to realize that he was trying to give you a dating gift. An involuntary sigh of relief escaped Yoongi’s mouth when he saw you shake your head and push Minho’s hands away from you. Feeling a little happy (although he didn’t know why), he watched as Minho nodded before walking away.

“Here’s your drink,” Yoongi said as he walked over to you, extending his hand and giving you the cup.

“Thanks,” you smiled, taking the cup from him and taking an immediate sip from it. You made no mention of Minho trying to give you a gift and Yoongi decided not to either. He figured that it wasn’t a big deal because you didn’t accept it and he was still trying to figure out why he even cared if you did or not.

..........................................

Once the party had finally managed to break up (at a modest 1am), Yoongi offered to walk you back to your cabin and you thankfully accepted.

“So, did you have fun tonight?” You asked him.

“I did actually,” Yoongi chuckled. “You guys definitely know how to have a good time.”

“Well, living out here in the woods, it’s a craft that we’ve perfected,” you told him.

“I see that,” Yoongi smiled. “Question though, does Jungkook get so drunk that Taehyung has to literally carry him home at every party?”

“Every one,” you confirmed with a giggle. “I told you that the elder’s make those drinks really strong.”

“They definitely do, because I had one cup and felt as if I had four,” Yoongi huffed, making you laugh.

“You know,” you spoke up suddenly, making Yoongi look over at you. “I hope you don’t take offense to this, but you’re actually pretty cool to hang out with when you’re not spouting sexist bullshit.”

“Some offense taken,” Yoongi laughed. “But I get what you’re saying. Me acting like that was kind of what was expected of an Alpha in my old pack but I don’t really feel like I have to do any of that here.”

“Yeah,” you hummed in agreement. After another minute of walking, you and Yoongi walked up to a cabin that was painted blue and you stopped in front of it.

“This is me,” you announced and Yoongi nodded his head. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“No problem,” he shrugged. “I don’t mind.” A few seconds of slightly awkward silence passed between the two of you before you suddenly spoke up again.

“Did you mean what you said about my scent?” You questioned him, and his eyes widened slightly.

“What?” He chuckled in confusion.

“You said my scent smelled industrial,” you reminded him and he shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” he told you. “We were arguing and you know that a good way to get a jab in at someone is to go for their scent. I admit though, it was a cheap shot.”

“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t talk about your scent too,” you pointed out.

“True,” Yoongi muttered. “But no, I don’t think that your scent smells industrial. I actually...like your scent.”

“You do?” You asked in surprise, and Yoongi nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly.

“I like yours too,” you admitted. “You smell like the stream that I like to sit by, the one at the edge of the territory.”

“I remember you acting like my scent was bad,” Yoongi teased you.

“It’s not,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “It’s stable, and that’s good.”

“Good,” he smiled softly.

“Well, good night,” you told him.

“Good night,” he responded, watching as you unlocked the front door and opened it, walking inside and then shutting the door behind you. Yoongi then turned around and walked away, smiling to himself as he headed back to his own cabin.

..........................................

Tag List: @jikook-enthusiasts

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plainlo-inthemorning · 4 years ago

Text

Shine a Light, part 6

A Loki series/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

He is already spinning around and bracing himself as his boots touch the concrete, half expecting to see the beast come tumbling towards him.

But the air is mercifully still where the door has snapped shut.

The evening sky above him is heavy with clouds, and a light mist of cool rain touches his face.

Cool.

He looks down at his hands. They are still shaking from the adrenaline, but no longer blue. Nor do his clothes feel rough against his skin.

Did he consciously change back to his Asgardian form as he went through the door? He is not sure. Whatever the shape or shade, his body feels oddly disconnected from his brain and Loki idly wonders if using the tempad so much within a short time span might be affecting him on a cellular level.

Then again, if that was the case would the Minute Men and analysts at the TVA not have been suffering from chronic time travel fatigue?

Who knows, perhaps they did. A number of them certainly looked worn out.

Tempad “jetlag” (an apt mortal word) or not, unwillingly running into variants upon variants of old enemies on this treacherous timeline coupled with the incessant longing for her has caused Loki’s grip on reality to slip ever more from one destination to the next.

What reality? a mocking voice in his head whispers, sounding maddingly similar to the little devil clock.

You have no idea where you are, who you are or where you’re going. You’re a man out of time, for all time, always.

He straightens and draws in a few deep breaths, surveying his new surroundings: A narrow brick terrasse. At the back wall, a glass sliding door reveals a room covered in darkness, but as nothing moves inside (his night vision remains far superior to that of mortals), Loki turns instead to take in the view of … London.

There is a taste of early spring in the air, and before him as far as the eye can see, the rooftops and spires of the city stretch out into the distance.

Millions of little lights flicker in the dark and the fumes of traffic and city grime mix with whiffs of different cuisines drifting out of air vents.

He has been here once or twice before, though not in decades, and there are whole clusters of towering structures of glass and steel that he does not recall from on his previous visit.

The house by the ocean in 2016, Budapest in 2015, New York in 2014 and now London in what he assumes must be 2013. As methodical as the backwards count has proven to be, as confusing are the destinations and varying seasons.

Only they cannot possibly be random.

Free will is an illusion.

The eerie feeling that even this, his ill-thought-out ‘quest’, is being guided by an invisible hand in charge of his destiny is so dispiriting it’s comical. He can’t quite decide whether to feel perversely honored that some higher being – a version of He Who Remains? – would take interest in toying with him, or furious that he has been singled out for this preposterous punishment of drifting through another Loki variant’s timeline.

It is no use dwelling on either emotion. He has no one to measure his pride against, no one’s expectations to live up to expect for his own, and, frankly, by now that bar is scraping the floor. There is no telling where the female variant of him went and Loki has no means of contacting the TVA or the analyst-interrogator even if he wanted to (he really does not anymore).

Loki unclenches his fists.

Seeing as each destination may have been an intentional set-up for whatever bizarre reason, the question is which character from his past he will encounter in this place. He vows to himself that no matter who he bumps into, he will attempt to reactivate that silver tongue of his and gather actual, useful information.

No more chaotic exits.

Provided no one tries to kill him on sight or squash him through a wall.

The terrace is furnished only with an old sun chair and a few plants, but the room beyond the glass door appears very lived in, with books stacked on the floor and several shelves, a large couch, a couple of armchairs, and what looks to be an adjacent kitchen area with a dining table.

Amazing how most mortals spend their years in such small, crowded dwellings.

Using only his magic, he slides open the door. It makes a low swooshing sound. Quiet as a cat, he steps over the threshold.

It hits him immediately, like walking into a wall: The scent of lavender.

And Thor.

The apartment is quiet, but they were here and recently.

He has been delivered right to them.

Loki is once again frozen in place.

His initial plan when knocking out that man in the canteen at the TVA and stealing his tempad was to find Thor and Jane at the scene of his own moral redemption (well…) on Svartalfheim. Where he supposedly saves their lives. Find them and use the momentum of their unfiltered gratitude to deliver the news that, most regrettably, the universe is likely coming to an end if they do not devise a plan together to prevent a multiversal war – preferably enlisting the help of Thor’s colleagues, too, and in the best of scenarios, Asgard.

Seek out Thor before saving Jane’s life, and Loki would have to first win his brother’s trust in the aftermath of the attack on New York. Find Thor after Svartalfheim, and there would be the small matter of explaining how the variant faked his own death and, after having thus broken Thor’s heart again, took the throne of the Realm Eternal.

Not an ideal conversation starter, even for them.

From the reel, he knows that there were other moments, much later, when he and Thor would become friendly again. After Ragnarok, before his end.

But Loki also knows that this need to get to Svartalfheim has as much to do with her as it has with Thor. Perhaps even more so.

Something important transpires between himself and the brown-eyed scientist on that brutal, barren planet and if it is the last thing he does, Loki will find out what it means.

It does not make any more sense now than it did when he sat in the kill me kind of room, transfixed by her face, but if he had had any initial doubts as to whether he was simply imagining the magnetic pull of her, those had been effectively shattered to atoms when she threw her arms around his neck outside the white house.

“Where did you go, handsome?”

Nothing on this timeline seems to be playing out as it should. Which of course also means that the events on Svartalfheim may never have occurred at all.

On this timeline, a variant has more or less befriended the Avengers in the years after New York when, according to the proper Loki fate, he should have been on Asgard. And, in a few years from now, the variant will somehow be with Jane.

Jane, who has stayed in this very apartment. With Thor.

Briefly, Loki is back to wondering if Thor dies and how, but then he remembers what Bruce said about their “family soap opera” and Loki’s “victory”.

Could it be that he and Thor actually fought over Jane?

As much as he wishes it otherwise, even Loki finds it hard to believe that his variant would have beat the God of Thunder in a fight. The might of Mjølner is formidable. And though his brother has not quite discovered it himself yet, Loki has always suspected that Thor has his own kind of magic.

Then there is Jane: Without having ever conversed with her, Loki would be surprised if Jane would appreciate being treated as a prize to be won.

He is getting a headache. A rare thing for a god, but there is no putting the puzzle together with so many pieces missing from the board. Since he has no hope of using the tempad to transport him off Midgard, maybe the best thing to do would be to just wait here and see if Jane and Thor come back. He has been specifically sent here, has he not?

Without really noticing, Loki has moved to the blue, puffy couch. He sits himself down and leans back into the soft cushions, letting out a sigh. When was the last time he slept or ate anything? There is a sense of fresh paranoia as he realizes that he cannot remember doing either at the TVA, expect for when he fell asleep during research.

“Time works differently at the TVA. You’ll see”.

He stretches his legs out in front of him and yawns. On the wall opposite from the couch is a paper calendar: 2013.

He takes in the rest of the apartment but does not magic any of the lights on. There is the open kitchen, a tiny hallway with a coat rack and a few pairs of shoes, and two more doors to the left of where he is sitting.

Getting up suddenly feels immensely tasking, but Loki nevertheless hauls himself to his feet and goes to inspect the other rooms. First, there is the washroom. The scent of lavender is stronger in there, even more inviting, and spotting a stack of fresh towels on a shelf, he considers taking a shower. It is not as if he cannot easily use magic to uphold appearances (wait, were there showers at the TVA?), but that is no substitute for the soothing feel of warm water running down his body, relaxing his tired muscles.

Yes, he will shower. And cast a spell on the apartment, so he will be alerted if anybody attempts to enter.

He takes a small comfort in his powers being restored.

Loki reckons the other door leads to the sleeping chambers but just to be sure, he magics it open with a flick of his wrist.

A window with closed blinds. A wooden bookcase to one side, volumes and magazines piled high. An old, white wardrobe with brass grips. A pile of clothes strewn haphazardly on the thick yellow rug on the floor near a large, unmade bed.

Unmade – and not empty.

Loki stands perfectly still, one hand still raised.

Why did he not sense that someone was here?!

Seeing as Clint (Bird-Eye?) managed to surprise him in Budapest, perhaps Loki’s “wolf’s ears” really are failing him.

Even so, his nose is working just fine. Unless …

Then he knows. Of course.

His tongue tastes bile.

Inching closer, he sees the black hair spilling over the madras. His own lean, sculpted body whose long limbs and handsome Asgardian features Loki has never felt less appreciation for than right this very moment.

The variant is deep asleep. And half-naked under the sheets.

Something twists in his stomach at the scene. Something small and pathetic and evil that wants out. A foul, winged creature batting against his ribcage with sharp claws.

He takes another step forward.

How has the variant not been alerted to his presence yet? He seemed strong – very strong – in 2016.

Loki studies his twin’s face. His own exact face. Same high cheek bones, same long, dark lashes against a pale complexion. Only this close, the man’s skin has a faint ashen sheen to it. A few tiny beads of sweat glisten on his temples and, yes, Loki hears it now, his breathing is slightly labored.

He is injured. Enough to dull his senses.

It is not the madman from the Void, as Loki had feared after their first encounter. His energy is quite different from any of the other variants, and Loki suspects he may be the closest to a perfect double that he’s encountered yet (and please, let this one be the last. No more variants or Loki will forget which life was his own).

Stepping so close he can lean over the bed, the reason for the variant’s sedated state becomes evident:

Tied around the man’s mid-section, just about visible over the sheets, is the upper edge of a large bandage. Loki sniffs. Yes, he can sense the wound and the ugly tinge of dark magic still surrounding it, like a poisonous signature: This was inflicted by a blade of the dark elves. The variant has come from Svartalfheim after all.

The cut must have been near fatal, but from the smell of it, it is healing well, aided by the variant’s own powers and what can only be human medicine, judging by the clinical odor.

Even so, why was he not taken to the healers on Asgard?

Because he is evading his punishment for the attack on New York, Loki guesses.

Thor and Jane must have brought him to London instead of delivering him back to Odin. Although thanks to Heimdall’s watchful gaze, the All-Father will be aware of what has transpired. In his condition, the chances of the variant being able to use his magic to shield himself from Heimdall are next to none.

Still, he is here. No one has come for him yet.

Loki does not know which is stranger: That the variant is legitimately, badly injured and not currently in the process of dispatching Odin off to some home for the elderly in New York, or that Odin has allowed the variant to be taken to Midgard instead of the dungeons.

Presumably neither the All-Father nor Thor are aware of the variant’s role in Frigga’s death.

Though he tries to shake them off, the images remain crystal clear: The queen mother, killed by one of Malekeith’s monster.

A shiver suddenly runs through the variant’s body on the bed and Loki holds his breath. The man shifts under the sheets but does not wake.

So, dear ‘brother’, your Nexus event was that you nearly died for the people who care for you instead of following up your heroism with deceit, as I would have done.

What sentiment.

The winged creature growls.

Loki could kill him right now.

Kill him and take his place.

It would be easy, so easy to slit his throat. It is not as if he has not committed murder before.

“I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t enjoy it …” But this is not ‘people’.

This man is a murderer as well.

The variant has already veered spectacularly off course from his fate, and yet there are no Minute Men next to his bed, holding him accountable for his “crimes against the sacred timeline”, nor will he be apprehended in the following years.

This man got “the Time Keepers’ stamp of approval”, just like the Avengers.

It is so monumentally unfair it is enough to make Loki’s fingers grasp for an invisible dagger. The variant’s existence makes a mockery of the life that was cruelly stolen from Loki by the TVA and for that he loathes him with every fiber of his identical body.

Why should the variant have any more right to live?

Because he will make her happy.

Loki forces himself to rein in the rage. The man will play a part in Jane’s life.

He stares at his sleeping double.

The variant is worthy.

Or just simply unbearably, ridiculously lucky.

No matter what, he must live, but if Loki stays here much longer, he fears the variant’s chances of making it past 2013 will rapidly decrease by the minute.

Loki cannot stand to look at him, nor will he contemplate the fact that the variant is comfortable enough in the apartment to discard his clothes.

If he does, he will stab him to death. And relish in it.

Loki is about to magic himself away to find somewhere nearby to wait for Thor and Jane’s return, when a noise reaches him from the hall outside the apartment.

Someone is coming towards the front door, keys in hand.

Jane.

He should leave immediately. Disappear before she can turn the key in the door.

But he does not.

Still looking at the sleeping, half-covered form in front of him, something finally snaps instead. The winged creature shrieks in delight.

A quick spell ensures that no sounds from outside the sleeping chamber can reach the variant, no matter how light his sleep becomes.

Another one renders all the light switches in the apartment useless.

Then Loki swiftly picks up the clothes from the floor, looks it over, and changes his own black outfit into what he is holding: A dark green, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of soft, well-known black leather pants that makes him feel both a bit homesick and a lot stronger.

Don’t do this, don’t do this.

A voice, not the clock this time but his own. He ignores it.

He does not know what Jane’s relationship with the variant is of this time or what state of mind she expects to find him in, but she has let him stay here – and right now, she is alone.

Her fingers weaving through his hair while the sun beat down on his back.

His conscience will not allow him to kill the variant, yet Loki cannot resist the temptation to be him.

Again.

But just for a heartbeat or two.

This last part he promises to himself and to her, though it does nothing to bury the shame.

Perhaps he did not change at all during his time at the TVA. Perhaps his true, villainous self just lay dormant, biding his time, while various oppressors walked all over him.

Is a stolen moment with her worth more than his honor? Is it worth jeopardizing his one chance of enlisting Thor’s help?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

This is lowest you have ever sunk.

Shut up.

He steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall. His hair. The variant’s hair is noticeably longer. He cocks his head to the side once and the difference is levelled out.

In the hall, Jane is fiddling with the keys. When the lock clicks, Loki is sitting on the blue couch again, trying to appear casual while his pulse is racing as fast as when Bruce turned green before him.

And there she is.

Hair windswept, cheeks flushed from the cool evening air, wearing a dark green parka, jeans and boots.

Her eyes find his in the low light and a warm smile spreads on her face. His heart leaps into his throat.

“You’re back”. She does not stop to take off her jacket or attempt to turn on the lights before coming towards him and, unsure of what to say, he stands up. She stops in front of him, apparently a little unsure of the situation herself. She bites her lip.

“So how did it go?”

Her voice sounds at once both concerned and hopeful and her eyes are wide with expectation.

She is searching for some sort of positive affirmation and so Loki smiles down at her and says the only thing that seems fitting:

“It went well”.

Jane exhales loudly and her smile returns. “It did?!”

“Yes”, Loki replies, grinning at her (her smile is too infectious) and hoping she will not ask him to elaborate on whatever the subject is.

“Of course it did! I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you? Oh Loki, I’m so insanely relieved!” Jane laughs and looks like she is about to throw herself into his arms (automatically he reaches for her) when she stops herself mid-motion. “Sorry! I nearly forgot. Again!”

She takes one of his hands in both of hers, and Loki swallows hard as her fingers softly caress his with unmistakable intimacy.

“But seriously, you two didn’t fight, like fight-fight, did you …? I hope Thor didn’t …”. She trails off and looks at him questioningly.

“No. No, we didn’t fight. Don’t worry. We both … behaved”. Loki tries to catch up while keeping his replies as vague as he hopes he can afford.

The variant and Thor have had words, and Jane has worried about the outcome. Could it have been a discussion of whether to return Loki to Asgard? But then why has Thor not come back to the apartment?

In fact, why go anywhere else to talk at all, with the variant being as beat up as he is?

Because he and Thor both expected a row not suited for the indoors.

“Okay, you sit, you’ve moved around enough for one day. I’ll fix us something to eat and you’re going to tell me everything”. Jane gently lets go of his hand, then shoots him a teasing smile. “Unless you’ve emptied the fridge. Again”.

“Um”, is Loki’s inspired contribution to the conversation.

“Uh oh, pasta it is then”, Jane laughs, and goes to shrug off her jacket and boots in the hallway, revealing an open flannel shirt with a white T-shirt underneath.

Was she wearing the same thing that day in the desert town? It looks familiar.

Jane flips a light switch next to the coat rack and makes a “huh”-sound as nothing happens. She tries a lamp next to the dining table with the same result.

“Has the electricity gone again? Was it out when you got back?”

“Ah, yes. It was”.

“The landlord seriously needs to fix this, that’s the third time this week…good old London”. Jane scoffs but does not sound all that bothered.

“Can you work a little magic for us?”

When Loki does not move, Jane walks up to him (now even shorter without her footwear) and lightly places a hand on his arm, nudging him back on the couch. “Sit. And shine a light, please”.

He lets her push him down, and her hand moves up to rest on his shoulder. Now he is the one looking up at her. She is standing between his legs and there it is, the affection in her eyes that almost makes him forget that he is not the man it is meant for.

He wonders for how long he can get away with not saying anything remotely coherent before she suspects something’s amiss.

Obeying her wish, he holds out his palm and a small, orange flame appears, casting a warm glow on both their faces. Motioning with his fingers, he makes the flame float elegantly over the low coffee table in front of the couch where it stills in the air.

“I was thinking more along the lines of just making the electricity come back on, like last time, but okay, that is very pretty too”. Jane looks at the little light with wonder and Loki thinks he sees the stars in her eyes again.

Then her attention is back on him. Her fingers brush against his hair. They linger by the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know if it’s relief, but it’s almost like you look a bit … different”. Jane’s eyes roam his face, his hair. “Do you even still have a fever?”

Before Loki can answer her hand is touching his forehead.

Jane shakes her head in surprise. “It’s much better than this morning. Maybe it was good for you to get some real air after all. It has been almost three weeks …”

How easily she touches him. How sad that he's not used to being touched anymore.

He has only to lay his hand on her forehead in return and he could use his powers to reveal glimpses of her past (yes, he kept many of his gifts from the female on Lamentis).

More specifically, what has happened between her and the variant.

But not without revealing himself in the process.

Her left hand is still on his shoulder while the other now travels down the side of his cheek. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes, just breathing in the scent of her skin when he feels her bending down and locks of her auburn hair tickle his face.

He opens his eyes and looks right into hers, inches from his.

You have not earned this.

You are deliberately, selfishly, monstrously taking advantage of her.

I am a monster.

And then her mouth is on his and he does not say no.

To hell with his soul.

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

For a second, she thinks she feels him tense up.

But as soon as her lips melt onto his and he immediately, hungrily reciprocates the kiss, everything is right again.

Crazy, sure, but also oh so right.

Jane literally never wants to stop kissing him.

She actually told him exactly that the other night. Or, accidentally blurted it out as they were coming up for air, since she is falling for him so fast her brain apparently cannot keep up with her mouth.

Immediately she had felt embarrassed, but it did not last longer than it took for him to raise a teasing eyebrow at her and pull her close again. “Why, Doctor Foster”, he had purred in that low voice that he absolutely knows makes her go weak, “by all means, please…(and he’d kissed her) don’t…(another kiss) stop … (kiss) Ever”.

Then he had leaned back a little, still gently cupping her face between his large hands, and flashed her the most gorgeous, happy, wickedly lascivious smile she had seen on him so far.

Not many people radiate smoldering sex appeal while simultaneously suffering from the agonizing pain of a wound inflicted by an alien sword, but of course Loki pulls it off with flying colors.

From there on, there had been no returning to ‘movie night’.

Now, trying not to break the kiss, Jane carefully moves to sit herself down on the couch as well, making sure not to press against him. For two weeks, they have been making out like teenagers whenever they are alone. Somewhat hindered by his injuries, obviously, which prohibits him from moving much – it is both very, very hot and insanely frustrating.

The first time she had kissed him, he had been too stunned to move a muscle anyway.

The second time, he had nearly ripped the wound open again.

Since then, they have tried to take it slow, although on more than one occasion, Loki has been all but begging to throw caution to the wind – “I’ll heal!", “It doesn't hurt!” (said as he looked like he was going to pass out), and, Jane’s favorite, “It might make me heal faster”.

His impatience would be quite funny if it was not because Jane was feeling just as dizzy with want.

She has been going for a lot of runs in Hyde Park lately.

“Do you have a death wish?!”, she had asked him teasingly at one point when he had spontaneously grabbed her hand as she passed him the kitchen and pulled her tight against him, only to groan loudly in pain when her body collided with his bandage.

Then he had looked suddenly very serious and let her go, and she had instantly regretted the comment.

She knows enough about his past not to joke about things like that.

“Oh. Oh, no”.

That was all her mind had been capable of thinking when she and Loki had locked eyes in the palace on Asgard, right after she had slapped him (surprising both herself and everyone around her).

He had looked down at her with his trademark arrogant smirk, except as soon as Thor and Sif had turned away, his gaze had turned infinitely softer, and Jane had felt something monumental start to shift inside of her.

Something that had nothing to do with the Aether coursing through her veins.

Not long after that, on that awful, doomsday-looking planet, he had saved her life. Twice in quick succession. And for a horrifying second, it had looked like he would die right in front of her.

The memory makes her involuntarily shudder a bit and, drawing her legs up on the couch so she can twist to face him more directly, she runs her fingers through his long, silken hair, and nips at his lower lip… and is startled when his head jerks. For real this time.

Jane draws back.

“Are you okay?”. Perhaps things did not go as smoothly with Thor as she had hoped.

It was a big ask after all.

Once more she feels a sharp pang of guilt. It is not just her and Loki’s worlds that have been turned resoundingly upside down in a matter of one turbulent month.

Loki seems lost for words, and the sadness flooding his face shocks her.

He is far from okay.

In fact, he looks close to tears. Were it not because she had just felt his cool forehead, she would have assumed it was the fever flaring up.

Jane feels her stomach tie itself into a knot. They are taking him away from her before they have even had a chance be together.

Or, even worse still, he has regretted everything about their unlikely union.

“Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry…”

Here it comes, Jane thinks as nausea builds. Erik is about to be proved right about him.

She lets go of him. He is clearly wrestling with himself.

And he does look different. Is this what him dropping the mask looks like?

It is more than just his facial expression, it is his entire posture. Even wounded and half delirious with fever, Loki usually carries himself with no small amount of pride.

His eyes are so lost.

What the hell is going on?

“Just tell me, Loki”. Jane tries to disguise how alarmed she suddenly feels. His touch is the same, and yet it is like a stranger is taking over the man in front of her.

He inhales deeply and runs both his hands through his hair. Entirely without wincing as he lifts his elbows above his chest, she notices.

“Okay”, he begins. “Jane…” (the way he says her name, like he is tasting the word) “…you have every right to hate me for what I’m about to tell you. I truly deserve nothing less.”

She feels the tears welling up.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Her voice breaks and Loki has the audacity to look taken aback.

“Are you being dragged back to Asgard, or are you dumping me? After trying so hard to get into my pants?!”

It comes out way too harshly, and Loki appears genuinely flummoxed.

Also, his face has gone red.

“Oh, Jane, no, he’s not going to… He won’t leave. I mean- ”

“What?” A chill runs down her spine.

“’He’? ‘He’ who? Thor?”

Before he can answer, they both jump a little as her phone suddenly goes off in her bag by the door.

That inane ringtone.

She still has not changed it.

Erik. She promised she’d let him know as soon as …

Jane wants to ignore it, but then her mentor will most likely keep calling and she cannot put it on silent from the couch. Loki probably could though, but she is not about to ask.

“Wait”. She holds up a hand and gets up.

While rummaging in the bag, a single tear runs down her cheek. No. She will keep her composure and listen to what he has to say like the commonsensical grown-up woman that she is.

Was.

She’s only just begun to get to know him properly, so why does it feel like she won’t be able to live without him?

She pulls out the damn phone and presses the button on the side.

The she straightens up again and turns. “Okay, Loki …”

Jane gasps.

The room is dark. And empty.

No, he didn’t!

“Loki!”

No answer.

She stalks over to the couch and frantically looks around. Nothing.

“Loki, don’t you dare!”

The phone vibrates in her hand. Shaking all over, Jane answers the call. “Erik?”. Her voice is very small. “Yes, hi, Jane, it’s me. Listen, has Loki gotten back yet?”

She starts crying. “Erik, he left. He was here when I came home and just now, he disappeared! He didn’t even say goodbye.”

She can hear how desperate she sounds.

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?” Erik sounds confused.

“He is gone! I turned my back on him for one second and he vanished!” Jane’s voice breaks.

“Look, Jane, I really can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you misunderstood him? He came to see me not two hours ago after that thing with Thor and, well, let’s just say he went out of his way to make a case for himself. And you…”

“What? What did he- ”

“Jane?” Darcy’s voice cuts through. She must have taken the phone from Erik. “The lunatic is absolutely batshit crazy about you, okay? Stop blubbering. He’s probably just bored and fucking with you since you’re not actually f- ”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Muffled sounds, as Erik wrestles the phone back.

“Come on over, Jane, okay? We’re all still at the lab. Ian’s made tortillas if you can believe it”.

“But…” Jane wavers. Is Loki really playing a joke on her?

Erik is not taking no for answer: “Jane, don’t indulge these little games of his, okay? Come have dinner with us, and I’ll tell you what he told me before. And if he isn’t back later tonight, it’ll be my pleasure to enlist Thor to beat the crap out of him. It’s long overdue”.

Despite herself, Jane cannot help but smile.

“Okay. I’m coming over”. She exhales. The feeling of unease is subsiding a bit.

“Good girl”, Erik says. “Tell her to bring beer!” Darcy shouts from somewhere in background.

Jane hangs up and puts on her boots again. Loki and Erik had an actual conversation with no casualties?

She grabs her jacket and slams the front door behind her.

He really is infuriating, that prince of hers.

If he turns up later, she will make him pay dearly for scaring her.

No making out for a week.

(Yeah, right.)

To be continued in part 7 ....

This was supposed to have been the final chapter. Only 'someone' needed extra time star gazing. Please forgive me him!

#shine a light #lokane #loki series #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #tva loki #loki x jane #jane foster #loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #plainlo inthemorning #shine a light fic #loki show

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heliads · 4 years ago

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Radio Silence Chapter Five: Can You Hear Me Now?

Poe Dameron has been assigned to work as an intel receiver to Acer, a Resistance recon agent. They’ve only ever talked through the comms, so when she’s captured by First Order troops he assumes she’s lost forever. When Poe accidentally rescues the absolutely infuriating Resistance spy Y/N L/N from a First Order Star Destroyer, he knows she’s got nothing do with with Acer. Right?

previous / series masterlist / next

What does he do now? What in all the stars is Poe supposed to do now?

Poe checks with another flight officer, two hanger clearance workers, and a recon lieutenant. All of them say the exact same thing: Y/N L/N left on a mission two standard hours ago. Yes, she’ll be going to the Core Worlds. Yes, they are aware that the mission will be dangerous. No, they cannot promise that she will be alright.

The worst part is that there’s this gnawing sensation of guilt that won’t leave him. When Acer was first captured, Poe had felt terrible, but there was nothing he could have done differently to save her. He had been stranded on the other side of the galaxy, and he didn’t even know her name or where she was held. Now, on the other hand, Poe can picture the cheekily grinning face of Y/N L/N, bloodied from wounds and staggering through the corridors of a First Order base.

Some part of him almost thinks that this was his fault, that if he hadn’t blown up at her for not telling him she was Acer she might have stayed. Poe knows this couldn’t be true, that she’d been training for this mission almost since she had gotten back, but the shard of guilt still stays locked away inside of him, stopping Poe from forgetting about her. It is a little true, isn’t it? If Poe had never opened that crate and he hadn’t taken out that data file, he never would have known. He wouldn’t have been filled with that same anger and betrayal, and he wouldn’t have yelled at Y/N for keeping it a secret.

What would have happened then? Would she have told him before she left, or would it stay a secret? At any rate, they would have had a better goodbye then the broken one in the hall. Poe can still feel regret burning up inside of him- Y/N had been minutes away from the riskiest mission in her life, and instead of making her smile one last time, Poe had ripped away any possibility of peace.

Y/N’s mission will likely last a week or two. It isn’t another spy reassignment, it’s an excursion into the Core Worlds. The roles have switched, and now it is Y/N foraying into First Order territory to rescue a recon officer, most likely managing to steal some plans for the newly built First Order battleships and armored cruisers while she’s there. It wouldn’t surprise him- Y/N has had a knack for gathering intel, a trait that had served her well during her undercover work as Acer. Poe can only hope that she’ll be able to stay alive during this mission as well.

Poe does his best to keep his stress under wraps, but evidently he’s not doing a great job of hiding his emotions because he’s approached by a commanding officer a few days into Y/N’s assignment. Leia, thank the suns, has taken pity on him and allowed him access to the command room where all details of the mission will be broadcasted. As Poe walks through the doors, he takes in the navscreen readouts and officers speaking into comlinks, checking in on the pilots and allies who could be in contact with Y/N’s team.

His attention, however, is drawn to the center of the room, where a large circular table displays holo footage from the mission. There’s a live map, allowing Leia to track the progress of Y/N’s team through the Core Worlds. This is the best information they have on the team- other than the comlinks, it was too dangerous to be in contact any further. This close to the First Order, any errant comms channels could be picked up on their scanners.

Poe keeps making excuses to drop by the room and see what’s happening. He doesn’t do anything unless asked directly, just stands in a corner and watches the proceedings. He can feel eyes occasionally flickering over him, officers surely wondering why Poe is this focused on an important but unrelated mission. Poe doesn’t say anything, just watches and makes sure Y/N is still okay. After the days begin to pass, the eyes stop watching him and he blends back into the background.

One day, Poe swings by the command center on his way back from meeting with his X-Wing squadron to find the room in a state of utter panic. Everyone looks frantic, with a cluster of people huddled around the central table speaking hurried commands into the comms. Poe jogs up to Leia, who is staring anxiously at the readout in front of them. “What’s going on?” Leia gestures towards the map in front of them, which shows Y/N’s ship. Usually, the vessel is rendered as a simple white dot, but now it is blinking a furious red.

“They were attacked by a group of First Order soldiers on the ground. They managed to get into space and take off, but they were surrounded by fighters. The ship has been hit pretty hard, and they’re having trouble steering. They have been able to get away from the enemy ships, but there’s no telling whether or not they’ll be able to make it. The ship is falling apart as we speak.” Leia says, her knuckles clenched around the edge of the table. Poe’s pulse feels like it’s skyrocketing. They’ve been attacked already?

There’s a shaking command officer standing across the table from Poe, speaking to someone over the comms. With a rush, Poe realizes he’s speaking to Y/N, trying to give her instructions on how to fix the ship. From the tone of the man’s voice, it isn’t going well. Leia notices this as well. “Ervann, you’re supposed to be talking her through it, not raising her stress level.” The man- Ervann- looks up, face harried. “I’m doing my best. I don’t know what to do, so many systems are down on the ship.”

Poe’s jaw clenches. He can’t just sit back and watch Y/N go down, not if he can do something. Poe rushes around to the side of the table with the comms, forcing Ervann to the side. “Let me do this.” He flips on the comms system once more. “Y/N, you still read us? It’s me.” He doesn’t have to say anything more, not a name, not a call sign. Y/N knows who he is. “Yeah, I read you.” Poe nods. “What’s wrong with the ship?” He can hear her sigh in a rush of static. “You might want to ask me what’s working, I think that will be faster. We sustained heavy fire from the fighters and a lot of parts are down. No shields, electric power is flickering, and oh- we lost an engine.”

Poe starts. “You lost an entire engine?” In the background of the comms, he can hear warning lights from Y/N’s end. “Yeah, the left engine. Shot away.” Poe takes a deep breath, trying to visualize everything in the ship. “Alright, let’s get to work. You’re in a Solarbeam, right? That means your failsafe systems should be pretty good. There’s a lever on the console, probably under the hyperspace controls. Turn it on, and force your power to balance unevenly, hinging on the left. 60-40, a little more for the left engine.”

There’s the sound of whirring machinery, and then Y/N’s voice comes back on the line. “Done.” Poe taps his fingers absentmindedly on the table in front of him. “Alright, good work. Now leave the cockpit and head over to the side of the ship. You’ll want to disengage the fuel rods to the left engine so it doesn’t blow up on you.” Poe can hear a slight grin in Y/N’s voice. “That would be less good, yes.”

Poe can’t help but smirk. “Hey, this is important work. Nothing like that trick with the couplings, anyone could do that.” He can practically see Y/N before him, her jaw dropping in mock horror. “Excuse me, you were very impressed when I knew about that. You were stunned, in fact.” Poe shrugs. “You only knew about that from me, so it’s okay.” Y/N laughs, the sound crackling into static as it runs through the air. “You’re insufferable. Get somebody else on the line to help me.”

Poe rolls his eyes. “Nobody else knows your ship like I do. You need me.” Y/N groans. “It’s the return of Mr. Know-It-All Mechanic. Well, bravo to you for being such a genius.” Poe snorts. “That’s a terrible joke. I thought you were supposed to be an ace at this.” Y/N laughs. “And you think I’m bad? That was class-A terrible.”

Poe feels a quiet smile deepen across his face when he hears her laugh. He hadn’t intended on speaking to her at all during the mission, too sure that she wouldn’t want to hear from him. Yet when he had been standing there, listening to the panic growing in her voice as she spoke to Ervann, Poe knew he had to do something. He couldn’t stay silent in a moment like that. Hearing her laugh now makes Poe’s shoulders finally sink with relief. They can handle the repairs now, the two of them. They’re alright again.

Poe stays on the line for another hour, talking Y/N through the ship repairs. At last, she’s able to get the battered Solarbeam cruiser to limp back to a safe planet, where she’ll be able to buy more parts and have less of a chance of blowing up on impact. They say their goodbyes, and then the line clicks off once more. Poe leans his arms up against the table, spent. He’d been running on adrenaline for so long that even just talking about the repairs was exhausting. Poe has no idea how Y/N was managing, but a bubble of pride is still rising through him at the thought of it.

Poe looks up, realizing the area at the central table is silent. Leia is watching him with something that looks almost like a knowing smile, which worries him. Ervann raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect all that. I thought you hated her.” Poe straightens up, heading towards the door. “I’m not heartless. Not when it comes to her.”

The mission continues. The days progress. Although Y/N’s team still gets into a couple of scrapes, nothing is as bad as that one incident, so Poe can continue to breathe normally. He still checks the command center at least once per day, but he’s never seen that level of panic again, which is good. He knows Y/N has an uncanny knack for making it out of tough situations, he just hopes she doesn’t keep having to prove it.

Just when Poe is finally looking forward to Y/N’s imminent arrival back at the base, the lights on the command center’s holoscreen start flickering, flashing in and out of existence. Poe’s eyes widen from his corner of the room, and he watches as Leia hurries over to a nearby comlink. “L/N, what’s going on?” When Y/N responds, her voice is weak, as if the signal on her end of the comms is dipping in and out of focus. “Not much… I can’t hear… You’re breaking up…” Y/N’s end of the line disappears in a shower of static, and then no other sounds come from the comms.

On the screen in front of them, the small dot designating Y/N’s ship vanishes one last time. Around them, tech crews scramble to patch back the comms channel or get any hold on the ship, but nothing happens. Leia’s brow furrows. “She mentioned that they were having problems with their comms systems. I don’t think we’ll be able to access them for the rest of their return journey.” Poe stiffens. “You mean she’s permanently cut off? What if something happens?” Leia fixes her gaze on him. “Then we wait.”

Waiting, as it turns out, is one of the most painful parts of this entire process. They have no way of knowing where Y/N’s ship is at all, if it’s still moving. The day for their expected arrival comes and goes, with no sign of them at all. Resistance scanners pick up word of increased First Order air traffic, and some skirmishes at the edge of the airspace. No one says what they’re all thinking, which is that the First Order wouldn’t come this far over unless they were following a potential threat. If Y/N’s ship was under fire again and it sustained more injury, it could go down entirely. This time, Poe can’t reach her to help. Y/N and her team are on their own.

Three days have passed since the expected arrival. Three days of gnawing, suffocating fear that blocks out any other rational thought in Poe’s mind. He practically lives in the command center along with Leia and the other command officers, glued to that navscreen in the hopes that something will happen and they’ll be able to reach Y/N’s team once more. Nothing happens, and Poe can feel his nerves growing with every hour.

At last, on the fourth day, a hanger operator bursts into the room. All eyes turn to her, and she stands there for a moment, panting after the exertion of having run across the base. “There’s a ship in the hanger. It’s a Solarbeam, one that couldn’t respond to our comms. We think it might be them.” Poe’s head snaps up, and he isn’t aware that he’s running back through the corridors until he looks around and realizes where he is. Poe isn’t alone- the other command officers are pacing hurriedly beside him. No one says a word, terrified to break the fragile silence and somehow dispel the hope that Y/N’s team has returned.

The ship in the hanger is battered and broken. It’s a minor miracle that it managed to land at all. Poe’s eye catches on the left side, where an engine appears far newer than the one on the right. Y/N mentioned that the ship was missing an engine, so if she managed to get it fixed then this could be her. The access ramp opens with a shower of sparks and creaking metal. One figure limps down, clutching the railing. Poe can see a dingy bandage wrapped around his leg, evidence of a blaster shot.

A second figure appears, walking down to support the first. There’s a pause, and Poe finds that his pulse is pounding in his head. Where is she- why is no one else coming out? Finally, a pair of scuffed military-grade boots appear at the boarding ramp, and a third figure descends from the ship. Poe feels his gaze lock on her. Y/N L/N is looking fairly worse for wear. There are the shadows of bruises lining her arms, and there are several blood-laced scrapes on her face. Yet she still looks utterly whole, the person he’s been wanting to see for days.

Y/N steps down from the ship, shaking hands with excited Resistance workers and nodding a greeting to Leia. She makes her way through the crowd, leaving the command officers behind to examine the other two members of her team. All of a sudden, she’s standing in front of him, her eyes at last meeting his. Poe has been waiting for this moment for a long time, yet now that she’s here, he has no idea what to say. Does he apologize, tell her that he was wrong to be so upset? Does he congratulate her on the success of the mission?

When Poe looks up, he realizes he’s kissing her. One hand is pressed against the small of her back, drawing her close. When he breaks away, she’s staring at him, and for a second Poe thinks he’s really done the wrong thing and she’ll hate him for the rest of his life. Then she leans forward and kisses him back, and Poe finds that he doesn’t care about anything else. Not the surprised looks of the hanger operators around them, or the whistles from that distinctly useless Ervann. The only thing that matters is Y/N right in front of him. This is far more eloquent than words, isn’t it?

radio silence tag list: @kesskirata, @ubri812, @itsnottilly, @20th-centu-fairy-girl, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @cp11, @chocolitelady

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron series #radio silence #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #star wars series #star wars poe #star wars poe imagines #star wars poe x reader #star wars poe series #poe

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ailixandrite2dot01 · 5 years ago

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I have been thinking about a thing I read from Sugar saying that Steven isn’t the forgiving person many of us, me included, thought him to be and that what we saw as forgiving was him ignoring his own feelings due to thinking they’re not important and stuff (let me tell you, this reveal hit me hard) and those posts about not destroying his enemies doesn’t equal forgiveness, and I have nothing new to say about this matter, but I was putting together some ideas about it

Mostly the often overlooked fact that Steven’s choice to talk instead of fight in many cases is linked to how he wouldn’t stand a chance against most enemies? Not on his own, sometimes not even with the Crystal Gems’ help. Of course, his high empathy and him being anti violence (as seen in his reaction to when he learned that his mother supposedly shattered PD, someone he only knew as being evil at the point) play a part in his choice and the show put some emphasis on how he is less about “punching first, asking later” than the other CGs (Marble Madness, Message Received, even freaking Say Uncle) but that doesn’t equal him thinking everything is fun and rainbows. Like, his choices seem to be a combination of these three factors: some rational strategic thinking for his and his friends’ survival, his empathy, and his belief that his own hurt doesn’t matter in the face of other more important things. And it’s fascinating to look back with this in mind

Steven demanded to talk to Lapis in Ocean Gem when she was clearly overpowering the CGs. He could only stare as Centi reformed in Monster Buddies because he had no reliable powers back then, and just because she wasn’t immediatelly attacked she didn’t attack back, which allowed him to realize she was not a mindless monster and bond with her. He suggested not to attack the robonoids in Marble Madness not because he wanted to make friends, but because he knew that understanding what they were up to was the only way they could stop having to fight them every other day. He freed Peridot because he thought what she had to say about the Cluster was important, and that was his only reason to want to talk to her at first - only later, after she showed she was willing to learn a different way of thinking that they became friends. And so on.

The Movie was so shocking to me when I first watched it, because Steven seems so done first with the Diamonds, then with Spinel, and that didn’t fit with how I saw him up to that point. Later Future explained why he was acting like that near the Diamonds, because he was not over all the pain they caused him (how could he, he never even allowed himself to feel that pain). For them all is good, because they changed, they love him, and he hasn’t run away to fake his own death like Pink so that must mean they’re doing it right, right? And Steven, being Steven, probably acts as if all is fine, because fixing the Empire is more important than how he feels, because being gentle and getting them to cooperate seem like the best way, because if they suddenly decided they don’t want to do this Era 3 thing anymore, what could he do?

And Spinel, he clearly wants nothing to do with her at the beginning, he is angry, he hates her. But he once again needs to try and be kind because he needs to know what the fuck is going on so he can fix it (and he takes all of this responsibility to himself because he is Steven Universe and he has to fix everything - really, never before he had such a big team of gems most of whom fought a war before, but he only asks for their help when things look really really bad and he wouldn’t be able to save all of the Beach City citizens alone) so he swallows his feelings and do what he needs to. For all her flaws, Spinel did the best thing she could do when she decided not to stay on Earth. She was right that staying after all she did wouldn’t end well. Steven would force himself to face her and smile but he wouldn’t be happy about it. Not that I don’t think they couldn’t ever be friends or that he doesn’t have any genuine good feelings for her - I think Steven feels bad about her past and wishes her to be happy, but it wouldn’t be right for him to act as if nothing happened while, say, they were still working to rebuild Beach City after her revenge plan.

Anyway, typed all of this to say that I have strong feelings about this all, and this is one of the most interesting developments I have seen lately

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teamxdark · 4 years ago

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I still want to post anything at all so. Here's the first unedited chapter of SatCK.

Also, once it's done, would people rather it all be posted at once, or a chapter a day? Let me know!

The clouds loomed low, obscuring the sun and showering the world in gray as a lone raven landed on the bones of a long-dead animal. He tapped his beak to the skull, as though to test the hardiness of the material, his eyes flashing with what might have been a sense of superiority before he looked back at the empty dirt path that cut through the grass and took off into the air.

The path did not remain empty for long; a girl ran along it just a moment later, her long purple cloak drawn closely over herself and her boots kicking up dust as she ran. In her hands, she clutched a staff tightly to her chest, which heaved with exertion as the girl kept running, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.

At first, everything looked peaceful and devoid of life behind her, and her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

Then, from the endless gray that covered the land, dark creatures spawned from the shadows, transforming from dark spots with glowing magenta eyes to massive beasts of all kinds, both landbound and flying, burly and nimble, and all clad in faded, heavy armor while wielding great blades that glinted dully, even with the lack of sunlight.

The girl stopped as she realized that she was trapped, while from a nearby tree, the raven watched calmly. As the monstrous warriors surrounded the girl from all sides, the bird took flight, swooping high up into air before dropping down, and in the blink of an eye, he transformed.

One minute, there was a raven in the air. The next moment, a pair of black metal boots touched the earth, and the imposing figure of a man in heavy armor stood at full height before the frightened girl. He approached her, drawing his blade, his eyes glowing through the slits in his helmet as he approached, promising death. In the air, thick with tension, his voice cut through, clear and full of malice.

“This is the end for you and your treason. I will see to that myself.”

The girl’s hands trembled as they fumbled with her staff, then steadied themselves with a great show of effort. The girl took a deep breath, forcing down her nerves, and struck the ground with the magical artifact, summoning forth its magical properties as she began to chant, summoning a blue light all around her that had the armored beasts recoiling and the man with the sword halting in his tracks.

That was all she needed to finish her spell.

“O brave knight, swift as the wind! Heed my call!” she implored, looking up at the sky as though the answer to her troubles would fall before her. From all around her, the cyan light glowed bright, until it exploded upwards, a column of magical might, piercing through the clouds and striking the heavens, leaving a sole spot of light in the otherwise gloomy sky.

And something did, indeed, fall down to her, and it fell with a scream that cut itself short as the being, a blue hedgehog, faceplanted in the dirt road.

This wasn’t what Sonic had been expecting out of today.

He lifted his face, shaking away the gravel, and scrambled to his feet, scampering forward until he caught one chilidog that, like him, fell from above, and then leapt in the other direction to catch the second one just before it hit the ground. Sonic sighed in relief, bringing himself back to his feet and taking a look around.

“Hey… where am I?”

The sound of footstep behind him prompted him to turn around, and he saw the girl approach him, her eyes widening and her lips parting as she looked upon him. For a second, no words came from her, but she appeared to find her tongue quickly. “Being from a distant world, forgive my abrupt summons!” She knelt beside him, still shaking from her run, and slid her hood down, revealing delicate features and long, pointed ears.

That’s not something you see every day on a human…

Movement from over her shoulder distracted Sonic from the girl’s unusual ears, prompting him to look over at the group of beasts in armor, which were beginning to encroach upon them. Sonic took a look behind him, beholding the armored man who stood stock-still, beholding him without a word, his shadowy aura growing thick around him.

Sonic let out a chuckle, quickly finishing off one of the chilidogs in his hands. It didn’t seem like he would be having lunch with Amy after all, but he couldn’t let such a delicacy go to waste. Making a mental note to apologize to his friend once this was over and maybe reschedule the whole thing, Sonic tossed the second chilidog to his other hand, spinning it idly around as he spoke to the girl. “Oh, I get it,” he reassured her. “No problem! I’m used to stuff like this!”

Enemies all around? Overwhelming sense of dread? Tension in the air so thick you could choke on it?

He was called in to fight and rescue this girl, he was sure of it.

With a grin, he threw his snack up high into the air and dashed off, leaving behind a gust of wind as powerful as a shockwave. He vaguely heard the girl gasp as he ran through the cluster of armored enemies, creating another shockwave that, to his surprise, made them evaporate without any more fuss. Sonic pushed the surprise away 一 there was bound to be a reason why, and it wasn’t like he had to know it now or anything 一 and refocused on returning to his spot, catching the chilidog before it was anywhere close to the ground.

He glanced back at the girl, who was staring at him with open astonishment, her hand in front of her mouth and her eyes wide. Sonic allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smirk at demonstrating his abilities so cleanly, then turned back toward the last enemy, the armored man, who still hadn’t moved from his spot and was still staring at him.

Sonic began spinning his snack around again. “Don’t forget to blink,” he taunted, and finally, the man moved, bringing his sword 一 a bright, golden blade that didn’t match his dark getup at all 一 up and before him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a face like yours,” the man said, pointing the tip of the blade at Sonic.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You’ve got all that armor in front of your eyes! How about I knock it away and you can get a real good look--”

“No, you mustn’t!”

A hand grabbed tightly over his arm, stunning him enough that he fumbled with his free hand and sent his chilidog tumbling to the ground. Sonic looked from his ruined treat to the girl who stopped him as she swung her staff before them both, causing a vortex of dirt and wind to surround them. As Sonic felt himself begin to get pulled away, he reached out a hand to his fallen treat and the final enemy that he had yet to even try to defeat, but it was all in vain. The armored man charged forward, but his sword only struck empty air.

The man cursed under his breath, turning away from the vanishing point and walking a few paces away, crushing the chilidog underneath one of his boots without a second thought. “She’s slipped away from me again,” he growled, the dark aura around him growing stronger. “And now she has an ally of the worst kind…”

The man kicked at the ground, wiping some of the remains of meat and beans away as he did so, and wasted no more time in jumping into the air and transforming back into a raven, shedding a single feather as he soared away, over hills and valleys, clearing a town and swooping over the outer wall of a magnificent castle, landing before five people standing in wait, clad in polished, presentable armor. He transformed back into his true form, and all five knelt before him, bowing their heads without hesitation.

My knights...

For just a moment, the man’s gaze swept over the five before him, something akin to pride sparking deep within him, before the feeling extinguished itself as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but coldness in its wake.

“She’s escaped me again, but I shall continue to give chase,” he informed them, seeing a few ears perk up as he spoke. “At this point, I cannot stand another day knowing that she evades me. Spread out, and slay her on sight. I no longer care if it is by my hand or not.”

Five heads nodded, still bowed, and the man felt satisfied until he remembered the other important piece of information.

“She has recruited an ally, a magical warrior. You will know him when you see him. Do not fall for his tricks, and slay him as well. Mercy is not an option. We have no time to lose.”

With that, the man turned away and leapt into the air again, transforming back into a bird to continue his search, while behind him, the five lifted their heads and got to their feet.

“That was vague,” one spoke; a green hawk with two fanned blades.

“Hush, Brother,” another one said; a purple cat wielding a rapier. “Our king has much to handle and no time to spare. It is our duty to help shoulder his burdens as best as we can.”

“I apologize, Percival,” a third one piped up; a pale gray hedgehog with long spines, “but I must agree with Lamorak. We do not know what this ‘magical warrior’ of hers looks like!”

“More likely than not, he will be travelling with her,” yet another spat; a black hedgehog with red streaks in his fur. “If we find one, we will almost certainly find the other, and even if we don’t, our king has made it clear that we will know him when we see him. Now, let us depart.”

“But must we?” the final one asked; a red echidna with two axe-like swords. “She is the Royal Wizard, after all!”

The black hedgehog’s head snapped over, his voice taking a hard edge as he spoke. “She was the Royal Wizard, and in any case, the king’s orders are absolute, Gawain.”

“Yes, but--”

“We have been given our task,” the gray hedgehog said, walking up between them both. “If he demands that they be slain, then slain they shall be.”

This seemed to pacify the black hedgehog, who nodded once before racing off, with the gray hedgehog close behind. The one named Gawain heaved a sigh as the one named Percival approached him. “Without loyalty to the king, we are nothing,” she reminded him sternly, though the next second she looked off to the horizon, where the hedgehogs had become little more than specks. “Still, the king… he has changed,” she murmured, much softer and thoughtful. “And this kingdom…”

“That would be putting it lightly,” the one called Lamorak scoffed, nudging Percival with his shoulder, much to her annoyance. “I need no magical gifts to see that there are troubling times ahead of us. However, there is not much else for us to do.”

“Only our jobs, and to trust our king’s judgement,” Gawain finished the thought, looking at one of his blades with a resigned slump to his shoulders. “Very well. I shall not be the one to disappoint him.”

Yet even with those words, the unease did not leave the knights as they left the castle walls in search for their targets.

#Smash speaks.#Sonic and the Cursed King.

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